Thunder Road (Rain Chaser Book 1) (2 page)

We all learned young that in the game of divinity there was no such thing as friends.

I’d once found him handsome, even charming.

That time had long since passed.

Yet there were occasions where we fell into old, familiar habits, and the way he said my name reminded me that this was someone I
knew
. I’d once seen him cry over the body of a dead dog.

Prescott hadn’t always been so cold.

I hadn’t always been so nasty.

Time ruins everyone in the long run.

I relaxed my fists and focused on the rain as it trailed down my bare arms, tiny rivers dripping off my fingertips. Thunder growled its animal warning, shaking the ground. It vibrated up through my legs and made my soul tremble with anticipation.

Prescott had the good sense to look worried.

“I won the idol fair and square,” I said.

The air smelled of ozone, a sharp, peppery odor that reminded me of fresh cardamom. In spite of the rain, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. The creaky
whoosh
noise of the wipers on their two sedans was the only sound. Goose bumps prickled my skin.

“You haven’t played fair your whole life.” His accusation stung. We might not like each other, but his words sounded like they came from a place of personal spite. I’d never hurt him in a way that should have earned me such a hateful tone.

“If Manea didn’t want to risk losing it, she shouldn’t have offered it in the first place.”

He blanched, and I realized he must have bet it without her permission. Before I could point this out, he said, “You cheated. Give it back, or I’ll be forced to—”

I lifted my hand, and he flinched. Maybe he didn’t underestimate me after all. The three undead thugs suddenly had guns in their hands, drawn and trained on me. They weren’t thrilling conversationalists, but they
were
known to have decent aim. If your only directive was to kill, you managed to be quite precise.

“You try to touch me, pretty boy, and I will leave a crater of ashes and burnt metal where you and your friends used to be.”

His lip curled up in distaste. So it was okay for him to threaten to kill me, but not vice versa?

“I have a job to do.”

I raised my other hand and held both out to my sides. Rain pooled in my palms and dribbled between my fingers. Tilting my face to the sky, I reveled in the sensation of each heavy drop wetting my cheeks.

Seth, hear me
.

The words didn’t need to be said out loud. The prayer itself wasn’t necessary. The power of the god was in me, whether he was paying attention or not.

“You might want to get out of here,” I told him. “Storm’s coming.”

I grinned, and the sky was suddenly brighter than midday, a flash of lightning forking overhead. Barely a heartbeat later the thunder boomed, so close and loud it rattled my teeth and made my knees feel weak. The sound promised power. It offered menace no mere words could.

Don’t mess with me
, it said.

Prescott had to touch me if he was going to kill me.

I could obliterate him from a mile away, and we both knew it.

He moved a step closer, and my grin faded. A smart man would back down, and I used to think he was a smart man.

“Don’t,” I warned.

“She wants it back.”

“I don’t care.” Hell, if it was up to me, she could have the stupid thing. But I hadn’t won it for myself, and if I handed it over now, the wrath of Seth would be far scarier than Prescott’s handshake of death.

“Tallulah,
please
.”

I gathered that he was equally concerned about going home empty-handed, but his well-being wasn’t my problem.

“
Stop
.”

He ignored me and took another step closer, so he was now well in front of the cars. The three undead had their weapons raised still, nary a trembling grip in sight.

I raised my hands higher, and the hair on the back of my arms stood on end. My whole body felt electrified, as if I’d stuck my fingers into a live socket. I didn’t
want
to do this, but he gave me no choice. After knowing me this long, Prescott should have understood I didn’t bluff.

He needed a reminder.

A deep, scary rumble of thunder shook the hill, and he paused, raising an eyebrow at me. But I wasn’t going to stop, not this time. He clearly didn’t believe I was serious.

Angling my palms outward, I gritted my teeth like a soldier bracing himself for amputation. This was going to hurt. It always hurt.

The sky turned bright white, illuminated into temporary daylight as lightning shredded the night like it was tissue. The bolt hit me harder than a ten-ton truck, slamming into me so ferociously I felt as if every atom in my body were being crushed.

Electricity coursed from the top of my head through my limbs, and I held my ground, feet planted firmly in the wet mud. A tear trickled down my cheek as I pulled the energy of the lightning into me and directed it, shoving it back out again, but this time at my command.

Another flash of lightning brightened the hilltop, only now it came from my hands instead of the sky. It sizzled past Prescott, ruffling his suit jacket and sending him sprawling backwards so fast he collapsed into the mud, scrambling to get away. The three undead guards also retreated, finally lowering their weapons. They might not be able to die, but Manea made sure they cared about self-preservation all the same.

The lightning hit the front car in an explosion of sparks and fire. The gas tank went up in flame, sending pieces of the sedan raining down all around us like sharp, metallic snow.

The husk of the car landed next to the still-functional one, and everyone stared at the burning ruin.

Smoke unfurled from my fingertips, and steam rose from my skin. I was breathing hard, and all I wanted right then was to eat five thousand calories and nap forever.

“Tell Manea if she wants the idol, she can get it from Seth.”

Pieces of the wreckage crumbled into the mud with a loud, grinding sound. The rumble of thunder had lessened, but the rain was still pounding down around us. I glared at Prescott, ignoring the three henchmen. I wanted him to acknowledge me, so I could drive off without having to look over my shoulder.

“This isn’t over.” His voice was surprisingly cool, given that he was slick with wet dirt and I’d almost blown him up.

I scoffed. “It never is.”

Chapter Two

Whitefish, Montana, was like most of the small towns I’d driven through in the last decade. It was charming, deeply all-American, and postcard pretty. The buildings were old brick or built to resemble housefronts. Even the Ace Hardware looked like it had been extracted from an Old West village.

Located at the base of Big Mountain—an accurate if somewhat too literal name—the town was removed enough from big-city life they still practiced some of the old rituals. In the center square was a statue of Khione and Oreithyia. The mother-daughter pair were depicted naked but for robes made of snow and wind, which provided them the illusion of decency.

Oreithyia, the goddess of mountain winds, and Khione, goddess of snow, were popular totem deities in ski-resort areas, though Ore had her detractors among serious slope junkies. It wasn’t uncommon for those doing climbing expeditions up Everest to make offerings in order to keep her away.

Seth and Ore had a complicated relationship, as did most gods. He felt she sometimes took attention from him and that as god of the storm the winds should be his as well.

Seth would love to be the god of everything, if he had his way.

Blessedly, Ore had infinite patience and didn’t seem to let Seth’s outbursts bother her much. Khione, on the other hand, had a feisty temper. More than once I’d had to deal with rainstorms turning to sudden flurries because she and Seth had butted heads over one thing or another.

In spite of the warm August night, trinkets were laid out on the statue, offerings to the goddesses for a good season to come. This practice had fallen out of favor in larger cities, where offerings would often be stolen. Home shrines and small outlet temples had become much more popular since the eighties.

I loved the look of elaborate public shrines. It meant the people of a town were still friendly with the idea of gods and hadn’t yet become embittered.

Making a quick detour from the main street, I stopped at the Cheap Sleep Motel, liking the straightforward simplicity of the name. I had yet to find a Best Western that was actually
best
, so I tended seek out the most interesting and vaguely terrifying small-town motels I could.

Plus Sido loved to lecture me about my expense accounts, and chains were often outside my per diem costs.

I slipped my jacket on before going into the main office, hoping to get through the entire encounter without giving away what I was. While the town appeared to be amicable to worship, there were always those who wanted to voice displeasure, and I was in no mood to hear about the time someone’s roof caved in because of a particularly bad storm.

They seemed to think I, personally, did that sort of thing for fun.

You crush an ex-boyfriend’s car
one time
and suddenly everyone thinks you’re a monster.

I paid a sleepy-eyed middle-aged woman for one night’s stay and pretended not to see the enormous
No Pets
sign. As long as Fen could keep his chirrups to a minimum, we’d be fine. No sense in drawing attention to rule-breaking.

The woman didn’t even glance up at me as she processed my credit card. “Check out time is eleven. But if you want to stay until noon, that ain’t no trouble, okay?”

“Thanks.”

“Continental breakfast starts at seven.”

“Is it any good?”

“Do you like stale muffins and cereal?”

I smiled, taking my card back from her. “I like anything that isn’t a McSomething in a brown paper bag.”

“Then sure, you’ll like it just fine.”

Thanking her, I took the key for room ten and drove around the back of the building, where one other car was parked.

A black 1970 Dodge Charger.

I sucked a breath in between my teeth and pretended not to see it. Of course, it was parked in front of room eleven, which made it pretty hard to ignore.

I knew my luck couldn’t last.

I ignored the butterflies in my belly and the flare of excitement in my ladybits and grabbed my duffle and Fen’s carrier out of the car. I darted towards my room quietly, hoping I could get in and out without seeing the Charger’s owner. My libido suggested it might be
very
nice to see him, but my brain was in charge, thank the gods.

Inside, I flipped on the lamp above a small table and used the remote to turn on the TV. Rifling through my bag, I found Fen’s water dish and a big Ziploc bag of kibble. I made a mental note to stop at the grocery store tomorrow and get him some fresh produce. Hell, we could both stand to eat some veggies.

Blue light flickered against the wall as the comedy network played on TV. A fake news show was talking politics, which was a nice change of pace from their usual shtick about the gods. I loved election years for that.

After releasing Fen from his cage, I sat on the bed and watched him.

Fennecs are ridiculous and perfectly useless as divine familiars. I’d been given Fenrir as punishment for insolence when I was fifteen. Twelve years later, the immortal little shit had grown on me, and I was actually glad to have his company. I’d spent my whole adult life crisscrossing the country following storms. Without Fen, I think I’d have gone mad.

But, unlike other Rain Chasers’ familiars, he was barely useful for any magical or protective purposes. Most got ravens or owls. Nocturnal birds of prey were great for scouting ahead or surveying the land.

Me, I had a bad attitude, so I got a hyperactive miniature fox with giant ears who ate kibble and spiders and liked to talk back.

Fen sniffed his dry dog food, then sneezed at it. Never mind it was super-expensive gourmet stuff, apparently made from real meat. What a brat.

He pipped loudly at me, then let out a screech noise, similar to a bat.

“Oh, shush. It’s just for one night.”

Fen hopped, spinning in a circle, then dashed into the bathroom, scrambling on the tile and making a soft thud against the tub when he couldn’t stop. He ran back into the main part of the room, ricocheted off an armchair, and landed on the bed. Fennecs were nocturnal by nature, so he was at the peak of his energy right about now. I was hoping if I let him run off some steam, he wouldn’t keep me up all night. Thankfully he was small and light, and none of his rambunctious behavior was likely to draw attention from other hotel guests. If he got riled up, he could make loud shrieking sounds that would convince anyone listening a woman was being murdered inside, but he knew better than to draw that kind of attention unless it was actually serious. He wasn’t exactly a normal fennec.

Outside, a car engine roared to life, and I waited, holding my breath. He must have seen my car.
Must
have. And if I knew his, there was no way he hadn’t realized the Mustang belonged to me. Especially not with my stupid storm-cloud air freshener.

Not to mention, muscle cars were sort of a calling card for the divinity-adjacent. We tended to favor them over more practical vehicles, because our cars were often the only thing we had any personal say in selecting.

At least I got to pick my clothes. Some others weren’t so lucky.

The car drove off, engine growling the whole way, and when the sound had faded out, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Fen shot off the bed and started tearing around the room from one end to the other, pausing periodically to give me a look like he was testing me. Would I ask him to stop? Yell at him?

“You do you, buddy.” I got a couple pee pads out of my bag and laid them out inside the small, open-front closet. After twelve years the fennec knew how this worked. Normally I’d take him outside since he wouldn’t bother trying to run away, but I didn’t want to get in trouble for having him here, so for tonight he’d need to go indoors. To his credit he didn’t even sneer.