Thunder Road (Rain Chaser Book 1) (8 page)

The waitress returned with Cade’s coffee and my milkshake, and I was too grateful for the calories to bother correcting her. Maybe she’d bring my food faster if she thought I was eating for two.

Cade sipped his coffee in contented silence while I ate my weight in carbs and fat, barely taking time to breathe between bites as the plates were dropped off. I was ravenous. Pancakes and eggs had never tasted so good to me before. I’d have traded just about anything for some honey garlic chicken, but it was much too early in the day to go hunting for a Chinese restaurant.

While I ate, too focused on the food to think of anything else, Cade pulled out his phone. It occurred to me I hadn’t looked at my own in almost twenty-four hours, meaning my app requests would be astronomical. Whatever genius decided to make a digital way for people to request answers to their prayers was someone I would like to meet and introduce to my powers firsthand. Every day I got dozens of requests for things ranging from
Water my flowerbeds
to
Flood my street so I don’t have to work tomorrow.
The app also showed how much had been tithed to go along with the prayer.

More money didn’t necessarily mean a prayer would be answered, but it did boost it to the top of the pile. Cade was scrolling through something on his phone, frowning with deep concentration. I swallowed a bite of sausage and asked, “Lots of requests?”

He shook his head. “The temple took me offline when I called this morning. They’ll be dealing with things locally I guess.” He lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug.

“Then why do you look like you’re reading your own obituary?” I dipped a slice of bacon in my leftover syrup and popped the salty-sweet perfection into my mouth.

“I’m trying to find a birth record for this kid we’re looking for.”

Oh. That was actually…well, that was actually super smart. My mouth was too full to say so, so I nodded approvingly. I didn’t behave like a lady at the best of times, but I wasn’t going to try carrying on a conversation while stuffing my face.

Realizing I wasn’t going to say anything else, he added, “There’s no birth record for a Leo Marquette in the last twenty years. I can’t find him in any of the public school listings.”

“Do they post those online for the public?” I asked.

He gave me a sly smile. “No.”

“So…where does that leave us?”

“Well, there’s a Jacqueline Marquette living in LaPlace, but she has no listed dependents.”

“Okay, you
definitely
didn’t find that online.”

“Define
online
. Because I technically
did
locate it on the Internet.”

“Criminal.”

“I prefer to think of myself as clever, thank you.”

“If you were so clever, you’d have found our guy.”

“I found two Leo Marquettes in a criminal record database. Only one with a known address in Louisiana, but he’s thirty-two. Isn’t our Leo a kid?”

It was my turn to shrug. “That’s the implication I got from Seth.” Of course time and age would be very different for a god, wouldn’t it? Could his idea of a few years actually be over three decades?

That could explain why I’d never heard of Leo. He actually predated my time at the temple. And on Earth.

Cade put his phone back in his jacket pocket, evidently finished with his search for the time being. “We can’t do much until we get there, but hopefully Manea’s people are under the same impression we are. If Seth’s son is actually an adult, we have more time to find him.”

As long as Death’s goons didn’t go around killing any kids who fit the bill, this was good news. Leo being an adult would go a long way to easing my mind about Manea trying to kill a child. But it might also make bringing him to the temple a lot harder. If he was a child, we could tell Jacqueline we were there to protect him. If he was a grown man it meant I had to convince him he needed the protection of his wayward deity father. No doubt that would go over swimmingly.

My headache was starting to return.

Cade pulled out his wallet, but I beat him to the punch, stuffing the billfold with twenties before he was able to. He hadn’t even eaten anything, like hell I was going to let him pay for me to glut myself. That would be too much.

Back in the car I made the triumphant error in judgment of attempting to choose the music.

The radio was tuned to a classic rock station, and as we neared the Wyoming border it began to crackle. Not wanting to do Def Leppard a disservice by listening to “Pour Some Sugar on Me” improperly, I adjusted the knob, looking for another station that was coming through clearly.

Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places” began playing.

Cade didn’t even give me a chance to change it before shutting off the radio entirely. “No country in the car.”

“I wasn’t—”

“No. Country. In. The. Car.” His expression was dead serious, hand covering the power so I couldn’t turn it back on.

“This would
not
be an issue if you had an iPod adapter like a normal human being.”

He huffed and dropped his hand, but looked ready to cover the button at a moment’s notice if I made a move.

And that’s how we went through half a state in complete silence.

We switched drivers near the Wyoming border, I think mostly because he was getting sick of me fidgeting in the seat next to him. The second I got into the driver’s seat I popped a cassette into the deck before he could stop me. Bon Jovi started to sing “Livin’ on a Prayer.” I could tell he wanted to argue, but when I pulled my hand back from the tape deck, he didn’t eject it.

I’d take my victories where I found them. I knew there was a reason I kept tapes in my purse in case my adapter crapped out.

Just over the Colorado border, our good luck ran out.

I should have known it was only a matter of time, considering who my copilot was, but I thought perhaps we might get a pass on the bad tidings since he wasn’t actively working a job.

A flat tire was the first sign the tides were shifting in an unfortunate way.

That we got the flat on a barren strip of highway, miles from any assistance, was the next sign of ill tidings.

I pulled the car over to the side of the road, and we got out, assessing the damage. We’d been driving for over fourteen hours, and the mounting stress of our situation was starting to wear on both of us. At least that’s what I told myself when Cade took one look at the flat tire and snarled.

He didn’t use actual words to express his annoyance, but as he went to the trunk and started rifling around—I assumed for the spare tire—he kept making irritated grunting noises, like the English language didn’t have any sufficient turns of phrase to get his point across.

When he returned with the donut spare and a jack, I moved to take the tire from him, but he elbowed me out of the way a little too roughly, sending me staggering back a few steps to the guardrail.

That was the last straw.

“
Hey
.” I came back up to his side, where he was now crouched next to the flat, setting up the jack. He pretended not to hear me and continued working, his entire focus fixated on the car. “Dude, drop the macho act. It’s not impressing anyone.”

He was on his feet in a flash, suddenly mere inches from me, breathing hard.

Oops.

“This is not an
act
. This is not me trying to
impress
you.” His voice was low and vaguely threatening, but something deep inside my body went tight, and goose bumps erupted on my arms in spite of the sticky-hot night air. He was much, much too close to me.

“Sorry.”

Cade gave me a hard stare, and we stood there for a moment, neither daring to move an inch, sharing the same breath as we struggled to decide exactly what this standoff was meant to prove. Finally he yielded with a frustrated snort and went back to the jack.

“Hand me the tire iron.” He held out his hand.

As far as I could tell, this was the closest thing I was going to get to friendliness, so I collected the tire iron from the trunk. I was about to return to him when the fine hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

Whatever it was I was sensing, I wasn’t the only one. Cade froze, his hands on the jack but not moving, as though he was worried any minor adjustment might make him lose what he was listening for.

“Do you feel that?” he asked, turning his attention to me. His voice was so quiet it almost carried away on the breeze before reaching my ears.

I nodded, my grip tightening on the tire iron. The sun was hanging low, dipping behind the tree line, creating a moody, cool light. Still miles off, a line of clouds had begun to build, marring the previously clear sky. They weren’t a sign of Seth’s arrival, just normal clouds, yet their presence soothed me slightly.

If something was coming for us, it would help to have a source for me to draw power from. I
really
didn’t want to channel lightning again so soon, not after two such intense encounters yesterday. My body wasn’t a machine. I needed rest and recuperation. If I maintained this pace, I was going to shave twenty years off my life expectancy before we reached Louisiana.

Cade was standing again, coming towards me. When he was by my side, I eased my grip on the tire iron but kept the metal bar raised. I didn’t know what was setting my inner alarm bells off, but it paid to be vigilant.

“Manea?” Cade asked.

I shook my head, scanning the barren highway. We hadn’t seen a single car since we’d pulled over, which now that I thought about it was pretty strange, even for a road that wasn’t a massive interstate. Surely a semi would have passed by now, or at least one or two other cars, right?

“Manea’s power feels different,” I explained. “Colder.”

Not that this sensation was exactly warm and fuzzy, but it didn’t have the same cool, clammy unease the presence of Death did. That didn’t mean I wasn’t unnerved by whatever this was though. It was familiar, but not so much I could name it, like something I
should
know but couldn’t put my finger on.

Cade, too, was apparently struggling to make sense of it.

“I should finish changing the tire.”

I nodded, but my eyes stayed locked on the highway, waiting for something to come around the bend at any moment. A ruffle of wing beats drew my attention up, and I spotted a crow flying overhead right before it landed on the guardrail near me. Its beady black eyes trained on me, full of intelligence and maybe the tiniest bit of condescension.

Crows are smart.

But this was no normal crow.

“Badb.” Just when I thought Cade was going to be the worst omen I’d encounter on this trip. Bad luck was one thing. Badb luck was a whole other kettle of stinking, rotten fish.

The crow cocked its head, and its eyes gleamed. It stretched its wings, nipping at a feather and preening until it shone glossily in the dying light. It cawed at me, catching Cade’s notice.

He glanced at it, then did a double take before coming to his feet. Badb and Cade knew each other
well
. I’m pretty sure she was secretly bitter about him being bound to Ardra instead of her. Their paths were similar, and Cade would have fit well beneath Badb’s wing. Which I think she reminded him of often.

The bird made a creaky gargling sound and cawed twice.

I glanced around, wondering if her sisters were lurking anywhere, but bless the gods she appeared to be by herself. Badb was one thing. I didn’t also need the burden of dealing with the rest of the Morrigan.

Seemingly satisfied that she had our attention, she began to flap her wings wildly. I choked up on the tire iron, though I wasn’t going to use it to lay the smackdown on a goddess. I’d be better off just killing myself.

As she flapped her wings, her figure expanded, growing taller and wider. The wings transformed into a long cloak of feathers with a high collar framing her now-human face. She wore a crown of bird bones with a crow skull resting at the center of her forehead. Her skin was pale and similar in shade to an opal, shifting from rose to blue hues depending on the light. Her hair was a shade of red I’d never seen on a human, deep garnet, like a ruby, and glowing with inner flame.

She was something to behold, terrible and beautiful and simmering with quiet menace. Her two sisters, Macha and Nemain, were equally fierce, but not as common to see. At least not stateside. Together they were harbingers of war. Badb also foreshadowed carnage and grisly death.

So you can imagine how stoked I was to see her when I knew Manea was biting at our heels.

“Rain Chaser.” Her voice reminded me of dry leaves skittering through a graveyard. It was chilling and somehow managed to convey the inevitability of death in every syllable.

I bet she was a hoot at parties.

“Badb of the Morrigan. Your presence honors us.” I bowed my head in a sign of respect. Next to me, Cade gave a curt nod but let my greeting speak for us both, like he didn’t trust what he might say if he opened his mouth.

Badb waved a hand, dismissing the formalities. “You’re causing quite a stir, Tallulah. The winds are atwitter with your name.”

I wasn’t sure I needed the wind or anyone else spreading my name among the gods. It was hard to fly below the radar if everyone knew who you were. Especially when you had a penchant for breaking the rules more often than not.

“That’s nice,” I said.

“Mmm.” Her lips formed a thin line, and she looked us over. “I’ve come to offer a few friendly words of advice, if I may.”

Like we could stop her.

She moved towards us like light dancing across water, graceful but spooky in how disconnected it was from human motion.

I backed up instinctively and ended up with my butt pressed against the open trunk of the Dodge. The smart thing to do would be to put the tire iron down, but it made me feel better having it in my hands, even if I knew I wasn’t going to use it.

Badb was close enough now to see all the fine details of her face. Her eyes were coal black with no iris, just solid black circles in the middle of the whites. It was creepy the way they reflected whoever she was looking at, as if they were mirrors made of ink or oil. Everything about her was meant to entice, intrigue, and repulse. This form put people off their guard, made them uneasy.