“You can stop now,” I said, putting a hand out to halt Holly’s headlong charge. “These guys are with us.”
Steele strode out into the plaza, hot as ever in tight black T-shirt and jeans. No riot gear for him. It was probably the first time in my life I’d ever been happy to see a shaper.
“Is that Jake Steele?” Holly asked. “What’s he doing here?”
“Believe it or not, he’s helping us.”
Steele motioned for the provosts to let the tourists leave. A gap opened up in the circle and they were bustled away. They didn’t go far, though, only joining the crowd that was starting to form around the perimeter of the plaza. The Plaza of the Sun wasn’t usually this exciting. No one wanted to miss the action.
A familiar black cat sauntered up to us and rubbed her head against Holly’s leg.
*You didn’t stay human for long.*
*I don’t think I’ll feel secure as a human until that douchebag is in jail.*
*Well, shouldn’t be long now.* Screw not gloating over your enemy’s downfall. I’d hardly dared to dream that such a moment would ever come, and I planned to enjoy every minute of it. If that made me a bad person, so be it.
A hush fell over the plaza as Steele stopped in front of Anders.
“Councillor Anders, you’re in possession of stolen property.” His voice wasn’t loud, but I heard him. All my senses were focused on this moment.
“You mean this little trinket?” Anders wore the ring now, and he held up his hand to display it. “I’m afraid you’ve got me. Caught red-handed.”
Steele paused. He probably hadn’t expected an insta-confession. Anders’ mocking tone bothered me too. Did he think he’d get out of this just because he had friends in high places? The Ruby Adept was his chief supporter on the council, and he was hardly likely to be impressed that his protégé had arranged to steal a ring of power from him.
Steele gestured to one of the provosts. “Captain, arrest Councillor Anders.”
The wall of provosts stood unmoving, shields up, guns at the ready.
“Whoops,” said Anders. “I don’t think he heard you.”
Uh-oh. Everything changed in a millisecond. The smirk on Anders’ face, the provosts standing in rigid silence—the bottom was still falling out of my stomach as my brain caught up with the realisation that we’d been betrayed. I screamed a warning to Steele and started running, but he was too far away. I couldn’t get to him in time. So I reached for a flock of the ever-present pigeons and hurled them straight at the provosts.
The captain brought his gun up, but a pigeon smacked him in the face as he fired. Steele jerked as the bullet thudded into him, then he sent a sheet of flame roaring across the plaza.
“Jake, no!” I fought my way into the storm of pigeons. “Look out for the tourists!”
The air filled with screams and singed feathers. Clouds of steam boiled skyward as Anders met Steele’s fire with a wall of water. Maybe there were times when it was useful to be a fireshaper with a water secondary. Too late to save most of the provosts, though. Their blackened shapes on the ground reeked of burnt flesh and sour smoke. I choked, gagging on the smell. It was that night in the apartment all over again, as if I were trapped in a recurring nightmare where people burned because of me.
Jake’s blue gaze met mine for an instant amongst the chaos, and then he staggered, nearly dropping to his knees. Bright blood ran down his arm as he snatched up the riot shield of a fallen provost. Shapers, for all their power, weren’t immune to bullets.
Flames of his own burst from Anders’ hands, and he raised them high. I renewed my aerial assault on him, doing my best to ignore the smell of roast bird and the pitiful burnt pigeons littering the ground. A handful of provosts clustered behind him, momentarily too distracted by the dive-bombing pigeons to take any further part in the battle. They were all that was left of the twenty who had marched into the plaza a moment before. I had less pity for them than for the birds.
Jake summoned fire, too, though it wasn’t as impressive as his first blast, which had scorched deep black grooves into the cobblestones all the way to the edge of the plaza. Blood dripped from his fingers, and fear clutched at my heart.
“Get Holly to safety,” he yelled at me. I ignored him, of course. There was no way I could leave him there, even if he was a shaper—though I was fast running out of pigeons. That bastard Anders was searing them from the sky. “Go!”
“You’re hurt.” I had to shout to be heard above the roaring of flame and the screams of the onlookers. Somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard a siren’s wail. “Come with me! I’ll hold him off.” While there are still birds left. Come on, Jake, please.
For answer, he turned his flames on the great statue of Apollo.
“What are you doing? Let’s go!” My throat hurt from screaming in the smoke-filled air.
Jake’s flames danced over the statue’s surface, his arms held out to it almost in entreaty. They shook with effort.
A great metallic grinding shrieked through the smoke, and the ground beneath my feet shuddered. I blinked my watering eyes, sure I was seeing things.
Apollo turned his huge bronze head. His horses tossed their heads and stomped their massive hooves with the sound of a hammer striking an anvil. The chariot rumbled into life, ploughing straight through the low wall surrounding it. Stone blocks the size of my head tumbled aside like pebbles.
Anders’ flames winked out in a heartbeat. His mouth fell open as the god drew back his mighty arm, his spear tip pointed unwaveringly at the traitorous shaper. Anders backed away, slowly at first, then faster as the chariot began to pick up speed.
Jake collapsed to the buckled ground just as Anders turned and sprinted for the edge of the plaza, the surviving provosts hurtling after him, the bronze god in lumbering pursuit.
“Can’t … keep it up … much longer,” Jake ground out through gritted teeth.
I hauled him to his feet, tucking myself under his good arm. “Then let’s get out of here while Apollo’s still got our backs.”
My car was only a few blocks away, but I doubted he could make it that far. Holly met me as we staggered into the nearest side street, and an almighty clang made me look back over my shoulder. Apollo’s massive bronze spear was embedded into a building on the far side of the plaza. I hoped Jake was as rich as I thought. There was going to be one hell of a clean-up bill from this little fiasco.
Apollo was still moving, but only at a walking pace. I couldn’t see Anders and his men through the clearing smoke, but it was obvious that Jake’s metalshaping was nearly at an end. It looked as though Apollo would roll to a halt right in the mouth of one of the streets that fed onto the plaza. Peak hour traffic might be a little more challenging than usual this morning.
Time for us to be somewhere else. Jake swayed on his feet, and Holly didn’t look much better.
“Wait here.” I ran back into the plaza and grabbed a chunk of stone.
*What are you—* Syl stopped as I smashed the window of the nearest car. *Oh, damn, I thought so.*
*You got any better ideas?* I threw Syl a dirty look as I helped Jake into the passenger seat. *You going to turn human and help me carry these two three blocks through the city with Anders on our tails?*
*How are you going to start it, genius? You think people leave their keys handily placed for thieves?*
I brushed broken glass from the driver’s seat. *Get in the back with Holly and make yourself useful.*
“Jake!” I patted his cheek, none too gently. “You still with us?”
His head lolled back against the seat, but he opened his eyes at the sound of my voice.
“I need one more magic trick from you, all right?” His face was so pale it scared me, but I kept my voice cheerful.
“I’m not your performing monkey, woman.” Well, he wasn’t dead yet. He still had his shaper ego intact.
I pulled my own keyring from my pocket and ripped a key off it. “Shape this so it star
ts this car.”
His fingers trembled as they closed around the key. After a moment he shoved the key at me and closed his eyes again.
Turned out my hand was shaking, too. It took me three tries to get the damned key into the ignition, watching the plaza in the rear vision mirror the whole time in case Anders and his goons reappeared. Sirens wailed louder now. The noise seemed to be coming from all sides. In the back seat Holly moaned softly.
As I pulled out, I heard a scream of rage behind us. I looked out my smashed window and saw a figure emerge from the smoke, running hard in our direction. Anders.
I gunned the motor and took off with a squeal of tyres.
*What’s his problem?* Syl asked. *He got what he wanted.*
*I guess he figured out it wasn’t the real thing.*
16
What had Jake said about the gods laughing at the plans of mortals? I was no longer so sure the gods weren’t real, but if I were a true believer, I’d be royally pissed with them about now.
I’d only driven five minutes before stopping at a supermarket to buy basic first-aid supplies. Jake was bleeding like a stuck pig in the front seat, and Holly could well be bleeding in the back seat before long. I picked up an armful of towels, too, just in case.
*Can’t we just drop these two at the nearest hospital?* Syl asked as I threw the supplies in the back with her.
*I’d love to.* I really would have. I knew nothing about labour or babies, and Anders’ comments about the danger of being around a labouring werewolf had struck a chord. Usually shifters gave birth surrounded by their own kind, who could help them stay in control—or deal with the consequences if they couldn’t. But how could I dump Holly among strangers and skip town? What was I going to do then? Ring Joe and say, Hi, I just left your missing wife at a random hospital, and she may or may not have given birth to your baby by the time you get there? I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror any more.
As for Jake, that got even more complicated. Anders was still on the loose, and clearly he had more allies than Jake knew about. Even leaving him at his own house could be signing his death warrant. He seemed oddly weak, even considering the shoulder wound. Had the effort of animating the giant statue weakened him beyond recovery? If metalshaping was so hard that even creating the fake ring had been an effort, how much more must animating that much metal have taken out of him?
His head lolled against the seat, his face grey with exhaustion. I longed to help him, but I knew so little about shapers—I had no idea what to do. One thing was for sure: he was in no condition to defend himself. I couldn’t risk leaving him.
*But it’s not safe,* I told her. *And we need to get Holly back to Berkley’s Bay. Back to Joe.*
*What about Hot Stuff?*
*He’ll have to come along for the ride.*
There was a good hospital in Berkley’s Bay. Alberto was there, too. He’d know what to do. Ever since I’d met him, I’d had a good feeling about Alberto. I was sure he’d be able to help us. He could hide Jake, if it came to that. And I knew I could count on him if Anders came calling.
Not that I expected Anders to show up. Berkley’s Bay was the last place I should be going. Given our mutual history, he was more likely to assume I’d pull another disappearing act.
I started the car, and Syl grudgingly took human form after I pointed out that I couldn’t drive the car, bandage Jake, and help a woman in labour all at the same time. I was good, but not that good. Syl leaned awkwardly through the front seats and rigged a temporary bandage for Jake’s shoulder while I drove.
“I don’t think it’s as bad as it looks,” she said. “There’s a lot of blood, but the bullet’s gone straight through. Once we can get him cleaned up, he won’t look so much like the walking dead.”
“I think it’s more than that.” I risked a quick glance at him. If anything, he looked worse, but I didn’t tell her about the metalshaping problem. I had a feeling that information wasn’t meant for sharing. “I think he’s got some kind of shaper sickness.”
“Damn.” She brushed his sweaty hair off his face. “Just when I was starting to like him.”
“Let’s not write him off just yet. Alberto might be able to help.”
Perhaps my faith in Alberto was just wishful thinking, but with the situation rapidly going from bad to worse, I needed something positive to hold onto. I kept an eye on Holly in the rear vision mirror. She was flushed, her hair limp and stuck to her face with sweat, and I could tell she was gritting her teeth against the pain.
“How far apart are those contractions, Holly?”
“Don’t. Know. Closer … than before.”
Just what I needed to hear.
“I’ll time it,” Syl said. “Tell me when the next one starts, all right?”
I finally made it to the highway. It was peak hour, but all the traffic was on the other side of the road, heading into the city. Some of the kinks in my neck unwound as I hit the open road. I could finally put some distance between me and Anders—although telling myself he was unlikely to be following didn’t stop me from compulsively checking the road behind me. Still clear.
Syl and Holly were occupied in the back seat. I glanced across at Jake, who still had his eyes shut. Asleep or unconscious? At least he was a better colour now. I reached across and tapped his bare arm. No response.
Good. I slid my hand into the front pocket of his jeans. It was kind of awkward with him slumped over the way he was, and me with one hand on the wheel and half an eye on the road. But I knew he’d have it with him. He wouldn’t have risked leaving it somewhere.
And I was right. My fingers touched something cool and metallic. Gradually, I wormed it out of those tight-fitting jeans and closed my fist around it.
“What are you doing?” Syl asked as I drew my hand back. She had to raise her voice to be heard above the wind buffeting through my smashed window now we’d picked up some speed.
“Just checking the bandages. He’s fine.”
If she’d noticed that my hand hadn’t been anywhere near the bandages, she said nothing, distracted by a groan from Holly.
“I can’t believe it hurts this much,” Holly panted. “Why does it have to hurt? It’s supposed to be a natural process.”
“More proof that God is not a woman,” Syl said, using one of the towels to wipe Holly’s dripping face. Holly growled and shoved her hand away. I had no idea what kind of gods, if any, werewolves worshipped. In any case, Holly wasn’t in the mood for religious debates.
I shoved the ring deep into my own pocket and checked the rear vision mirror again. No sign of pursuit. In the back seat, Syl had left a bigger gap between herself and the labouring werewolf.
“Sorry. It’ll feel like … bad period pain, they said.” Holly bit her words off as the next contraction hit. “Period pain … my arse.”
Then the words disappeared altogether, replaced by a whimper of agony.
Syl leaned forward, speaking right into my ear. “They’re only a minute apart now. Do you think the baby’s coming?”
I met her eyes in the mirror. Neither of us knew the first thing about this. We were way out of our depth.
“We should ring Joe,” Syl said. Holly didn’t give any sign of recognition at the mention of her husband’s name, if she even heard it over the rush of wind. Her eyes were closed, her face tight with pain as she panted.
“Joe? What use is he going to be?” Maybe if he were here, but over the phone?
“He went to those shifter antenatal classes with her, didn’t he? He must know more than we do.”
Just about everyone would know more about it than we did, but I was getting the uneasy feeling that lack of knowledge wasn’t going to be our main problem. Holly’s eyes had a wild look to them that didn’t bode well.
“Lie down,” Syl urged, her face pale. “Try to rest in between contractions.”
Holly snarled. “You try resting with someone sticking knives into your gut.”
&nbs
p; She tore impatiently at the button on her maternity jeans, as if she couldn’t bear the touch of the fabric any more. The look on her face alarmed me.
“Holly, stay human,” I said sharply.
She struggled out of her jeans as fluid gushed all over the seat.
“Oh, hell, her water’s broken,” Syl said.
“Stay calm. That doesn’t mean anything. It could still be hours.” So I’d heard, anyway. I checked the clock on the dash. Maybe another two hours until we reached Berkley’s Bay. Less if I put my foot down.
“Hours? I can’t do this for hours. Oh, God.” Holly knelt up on the wet seat, clutching the back of it. Her head banged against the rear window of the car but she didn’t seem to notice.
“That’s good,” said Syl. “Lean your body against the back of the seat like that. It’s supposed to be better to stay upright, isn’t it? So gravity can help?”
I didn’t know who she was asking, because I had no idea and Holly wasn’t listening. She screamed and grunted, such animal sounds that I had to keep checking she was still human. Jake stirred, roused at last by all the noise.
He glanced into the back seat, then turned his gaze resolutely forward. “Where are we going?”
“Berkley’s Bay.”
“How much longer?”
“Couple of hours, tops.”
“We need help.”
“Indeed. If you have any hidden baby-delivering skills, now would be the time to reveal them.”
But my sarcasm was wasted. His eyes had slid closed again. Damn. Worry for him leapfrogged to the top of my list of problems again. How much blood had he lost, exactly? Or was it just the effort of animating that enormous statue that had worn him out?
The needle on the speedo crept higher. I couldn’t get to Berkley’s Bay soon enough.
The next hour was a nightmare. I tried to focus on the road but the agonised sounds coming from the back seat were horribly distracting. Syl kept up a steady stream of encouragement, but Holly seemed beyond hearing her. Maybe it just made Syl feel like she was being of some use.
Stolen Magic (Shadows of the Immortals Book 1) Page 16
