That sounded a lot better. And how could it hurt? Jack seemed confident that his symbols or spells or whatever they were would keep out the bad guys. She had to let herself trust him. She was completely out of her depth here. Anyway, he’d said his talent was defensive spells, so maybe his signs of protection were a lot stronger than those drawn by an ordinary witch or warlock.
An ordinary warlock. There was an oxymoron.
“All right,” she said after a long pause. “If you think it will help.”
“It should.”
Not exactly the most stirring reassurance she’d ever heard, but she’d rather he was truthful than try to tell her it was all going to be okay. She hated that.
They got off the freeway a few exits earlier than they otherwise would have if going straight to the main police department headquarters. This was a more industrial area, no doubt chosen for its cheaper real estate. Jack pulled up to a fenced-in lot and parked in one of the spots next to a shabby-looking cinderblock building. On the side of the building were the words All-City Towing.
“Come on,” he said. “I’ll make sure you don’t have to pay any damn fees.”
Well, she’d believe it when she saw it. Not that she had any real doubt about Jack Sandoval’s authority here, only that dealing with bureaucracy could be a real bitch sometimes.
But there he was, showing his badge to the hard-faced woman behind the counter, working that amazing smile of his. The woman’s gaze flickered to Kate for a moment before returning to Jack. “I’ll need to see her I.D.”
Kate stepped up to the counter and fumbled to get her wallet out of her purse. Then she opened it so the woman could see her driver’s license.
“Take it out.”
No “please,” but Kate wasn’t going to quibble right then. She slid the license out of its little plastic-faced compartment and handed it over to the woman, who made something of a show of inspecting it minutely before turning to her computer and entering something on the screen she pulled up.
More typing, and then the printer off to one side of the woman’s workstation started to spit out a series of pages. “Sign here,” she said, pointing toward the line at the bottom of the first page of paperwork. “And initial here, here, and here.”
Under other circumstances, Kate might have scrutinized what she was signing a bit more minutely. Right then, though, she just wanted to get her car back and get the hell out of there. Besides, if there had been anything questionable in what she was signing, she was sure Jack would have said something about it.
The woman picked up the signed documents, scanned them briefly, and nodded. “All right. Detective Sandoval, you go around back and let Arturo know the fee’s been waived. He’ll bring the car up to the front parking lot.”
“Thanks, Mavis,” Jack said. “I really appreciate you helping me out with this.”
The woman didn’t exactly smile, but one corner of her mouth lifted. “Just don’t try to sweet-talk your way out of too many more of these impound fees, or I’ll have to explain them to my supervisor.”
“Oh, you know I’d never take advantage of you like that.” Still wearing a smile of his own, Jack turned to Kate. “Just wait out front. I’ll be around in a minute.”
She nodded, offered a murmured thank-you to Mavis, and headed back out to the parking lot. Even though she knew everything had been handled, she couldn’t help but experience a small stab of worry that something might still go wrong, that Arturo — whoever he was — wouldn’t relinquish her Jetta without a receipt or something, despite Jack’s assurances.
But no, there was her little white car pulling up, and a heavyset Hispanic man squeezing himself out from behind the wheel. The car looked dusty, probably from sitting out all night when it was usually sheltered by a carport, but otherwise none the worse for wear.
“All yours,” said the man, presumably Arturo.
“Thanks,” she responded, and got into the driver’s seat. She had to make a few minute adjustments to get the seat and her mirrors back to where they were supposed to be, but she didn’t notice any other obvious signs of the inspection her car must have endured. It felt so good to sit in it again. Until she had it back in her possession, she hadn’t realized how important the car was to her, how it provided her with a sense of autonomy, of freedom…even if that sense might not be completely accurate.
“Okay,” Jack said, leaning down next to the driver-side window. “I’ll follow you back to your parents’ house, and then I’ll handle…that other thing we discussed.”
“Got it.” She turned the key in the ignition, and sat there idling for a few seconds as the air conditioning spooled up and she watched Jack go back to his Jeep and get in. Once she saw his backup lights come on, she figured it was safe to ease her car out onto the street and head back to the freeway.
As she came out of the driveway and gave the car a little more gas, though, it suddenly leapt forward, the accelerator plummeting to the floor even though she’d barely applied any pressure. Startled, she lifted her foot, thinking that would bring the car to a halt, but instead the pedal remained glued to the floor mat, as if an invisible hand was holding it there.
Shit. Shit.
She jammed her foot on the brake, but that didn’t do a damn thing. In fact, her speed only increased. Fifty-five…sixty-five….
Her phone started to ring from within her purse, but she ignored it, because she didn’t dare take her eyes off the road. And oh, God, there was a big FedEx van looming ahead where it was stopped at the light, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop the Jetta’s headlong flight. She was going to crash into that thing, possibly hurt the person driving it, someone with the hideous misfortune to be in exactly the wrong place at the wrong time.
No time to think. She had to react, and there was only one thing she could do. Her body already clenching against the impact, Kate wrenched on the steering wheel so her car went up and over the curb, plowed across an empty parking lot, and careened into the vacant building there.
The airbag exploded in her face, and the world went dark.
7
Jack watched the whole thing unfold like a slow-motion scene out of a horror movie — the car accelerating far past a speed that could be considered safe anywhere except the freeway, the way it turned sharply at the last minute and went plummeting across a parking lot and into the side of a defunct HVAC supply store. Dust from disintegrating concrete floated on the warm air.
He pulled into the empty lot and threw the Jeep into park, then hurried over to the sad, crumpled heap of metal that used to be a Volkswagen Jetta. Cursing under his breath, he grasped the door handle and wrenched it open. Inside, Kate was slumped over the steering wheel, blood pouring down her face from a gash in her forehead, the exploded airbag like a limp jellyfish beneath her body.
God. With frantic fingers, he undid her seatbelt and pulled her out, reaching with one hand to snag the strap of her purse and retrieve it as well. Maybe he should have waited for the paramedics, but he knew this crash hadn’t occurred because of any natural malfunction. If he’d had the opportunity to look, he had no doubt that he would have found a sigil of destruction somewhere in the vehicle, maybe painted inside one of the wheel wells. Now, though, he smelled gasoline, and knew he had to get Kate away as quickly as possible.
He carried her over to the Jeep and maneuvered her sagging form into the passenger seat, then fastened the seatbelt so it would hold her firmly in place. Once she was secured, he dropped her purse on the floor next to her feet. As he backed away from the totaled Volkswagen, he reached over with his right hand and placed two fingers against her throat.
A pulse. Thready, and weak, but it was there.
Jack knew what he had to do next.
He grabbed the portable emergency flasher from where it sat on the dashboard, and opened the window so he could mount the light to the roof of the Jeep. Then he floored it, tearing away from the scene of the crash.
Not to the hospi
tal, though. Too many questions. Also, after what had just happened, he knew he didn’t dare leave Kate alone. The hospital wouldn’t be safe. All it would take was one orderly or nurse’s aide to be compromised, and then the young woman’s life would be at risk.
No, he would take her back to his apartment. Even as he reached that decision, he pulled the phone from his pocket and said, “Call Alba.”
Thank God, she answered almost at once. “What is it, Jack?”
“I’ve got someone with a head and possibly neck or back injury. Car accident. I’m taking her to my place because the hospital isn’t safe. How soon can you be over?”
“I’m leaving now,” she replied, sounding completely unperturbed by the information he’d just provided. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, twenty at the most.”
“Thanks, Alba.” He ended the call, cursing that the impound yard was basically on the opposite side of Scottsdale from his own apartment, which was located north and west of the downtown area. Well, it couldn’t be helped. At least the flashing light on the roof of the Jeep helped to clear the way, allowed him to maneuver in and around traffic, to barely slow down for traffic signals, just in case some numbnuts ignored the blaring emergency beacon that currently sat on his roof.
Less than ten minutes later, though, he was pulling into the parking lot at his complex. At that point, he plucked the light off his roof and shut it down, because the last thing he wanted was to attract any more attention than was strictly necessary. Bad enough that he would have to carry a comatose woman up the steps to his place, although he knew all his immediate neighbors should be at work. With any luck, no one would be around to see what he was doing. Unfortunately, none of his defensive skills included making someone invisible, so he’d have to hope there wouldn’t be any witnesses to his next few movements.
He shut off the engine and hurried around to the passenger door. When he pulled Kate out, he was relieved to see that the flow of blood from the cut on her forehead had slowed. However, the pale blue cotton top she wore was basically ruined.
Telling himself they had far more important things to worry about, Jack lifted her from the seat and grabbed her purse, then shut the door behind her. The briefest of pauses to engage the security system, and then he was half-jogging, half-walking the distance from the carport to the path that led to his building.
As he’d hoped, the grounds seemed to be deserted. A couple of black-feathered grackles jeered at him from the rooftop of his apartment, but they provided the only real sign of life. Then he all but ran up the steps, although he did his best not to jostle the woman he held. He was no healer; he didn’t know the extent of Kate’s injuries. But he’d seen Alba perform near-miracles of healing, especially when a wound was as fresh as Kate’s were, and so he had to hope he hadn’t caused any additional damage by bringing her here, even if he didn’t have much choice.
Cool air wafted over him when he opened the door to his apartment; he always left the A/C on low on days that promised to be warm, as this one was. A few steps to cross over to the couch, and then he laid Kate down on the leather surface. A soft moan escaped her lips, the first real sign of life he’d seen from her, except her pulse, but it told him she was aware enough to note the change in her surroundings, even if she didn’t have the strength to open her eyes.
Although he knew she wasn’t in any shape to drink anything right away, he went ahead and got a glass of water from the kitchen, then brought it back and set it down on the coffee table. At least it would be there for her once Alba had performed her healing spells. Jack recalled how thirsty he’d been when Alba had healed him of a gunshot wound, one he didn’t want to report to his superiors, since he knew he’d be sidelined for days. Anyway, it was something to do while he waited for the healer to arrive.
Which she did only a few minutes later. A soft knock at the door, and he let her in at once. Alba was a trim woman in her late fifties, with a no-nonsense air about her. She nodded at Jack but then immediately crossed the room and knelt down on the carpeted floor next to the couch. “A car accident, you said?”
“Yes,” he replied, trying not to let the extreme pallor of Kate’s complexion worry him, or the slack way one arm hung off the edge of the sofa. “Her car was hexed. She had to be going about fifty when she plowed into a vacant building. The airbag deployed, but….”
Alba nodded, then passed her hands over Kate’s body, letting her gift tell her the locations of all the injuries the other woman had suffered, as well as their severity. Her dark brows drew together, but Jack knew that wasn’t necessarily an indication of the harm Kate had suffered, since Alba often frowned in concentration as she worked. “A concussion,” she said quietly, “three broken ribs, and a perforated spleen. No neck or back injuries, luckily. It’s good she’s unconscious, though…this is going to hurt a good deal.”
“Do what you have to.”
“Of course I will.” Alba’s eyes shut, and she pulled in a deep breath. Then she laid her hands on Kate’s midsection, resting them lightly against the areas that had suffered the worst injuries. She remained that way for some time, as though she had to expend a lot of energy to repair the damaged ribs, and the wounded organ beneath them. At last, though, she lifted her hands and placed them against Kate’s forehead, ignoring the dried blood there. After remaining that way for a moment, she nodded, then opened her eyes and got to her feet. “She is healed. But because her body suffered so much trauma, she will probably sleep for at least another hour. When she awakes, make sure she drinks plenty of water. Nothing heavy to eat. Soup would be best for this evening. Tomorrow she can probably manage solid foods again.”
“Thank you, Alba.” Jack didn’t bother to hide the relief in his voice. Seeing Kate like that, so still and lifeless when she was normally such a vibrant young woman, had struck him harder than he wanted to acknowledge. Deep within him burned an anger that wouldn’t go away anytime soon. Whoever had done this would pay. He’d make sure of it.
“You said her car was hexed? Who would do such a thing?”
“I don’t know yet,” he replied. “But I intend to find out. For now, though, we need to get the clean-up crew to take care of the evidence. I brought Kate here because I couldn’t be sure that she’d be safe in the hospital, but as soon as someone I.D.’s her vehicle, I’m going to be left with way too many questions to answer.”
“I’ll make the calls,” Alba said. “Or rather, I’ll call Luz and have her handle it.”
“That’s not necessary — ”
“Perhaps, but you need to keep watch over your patient. We’ll make sure it’s all taken care of.” A pause, and then Alba slanted a speculative glance up at him through her lashes. “How long do you plan to keep her here?”
“As long as it takes,” Jack replied. “Until I can track down the person responsible. She was staying with her parents, but a couple of civilians are no match for whoever is behind all this. Right now, I’m her first and only line of defense.”
“Understood. I’m sure Luz would never fault you for stepping in. Take care.”
Alba picked up her purse from where she’d set it down next to the coffee table, then went ahead and let herself out. As soon as the door closed behind her, Jack turned the deadbolt. An automatic gesture, no more. That deadbolt couldn’t protect Kate from whatever was stalking her. No, the defenses here were not as clearly obvious — the sigils he’d traced around the front door, the slider to the balcony, around every window and even the flue of the small fireplace — but those would do far more to keep her safe than any lock.
And if something got past any of those deterrents, well, he would be here. Because Jack knew he sure as hell wasn’t letting Kate Campbell out of his sight for the foreseeable future.
Slowly, Kate opened her eyes. Her head ached, and something about her midsection didn’t feel quite right, as though someone had punched her repeatedly in the stomach. The room that came into focus around her didn’t look at all familiar — white
walls…black and white photos in black frames…a stainless steel torchiere lamp in one corner. Everything very clean and sleek and modern, and quite different from the pleasant jumble of colors and styles in her own apartment.
“Where…?” she began. “What?”
Jack Sandoval’s face, leaning down over here. “How are you feeling?”
“Like dog shit,” she replied honestly, and he chuckled.
“Well, I can understand that.” She realized then that he was sitting on a metal folding chair that he’d placed next to the couch. “Do you remember anything of what happened?”
“I….” The words trailed off as she frowned, trying to see if she could recall what had taken place in the time between when she’d left the impound yard and when she’d ended up here, apparently on Jack Sandoval’s couch. Bits and pieces began to trickle in — the accelerator pressed to the floor, no matter what she did. Yanking on the wheel so she wouldn’t hit that FedEx van. An empty building with plate glass windows looming in front of her. “I crashed, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t your fault.” For the first time she noticed how taut his mouth was, the way the laugh lines around his eyes now seemed to be creases of worry. “Someone put a hex on your car.”
“A what?” Maybe if her brain didn’t feel so foggy, she’d have an easier time understanding what he was trying to say to her.
“A hex. A curse. A particularly nasty spell aimed just at you. I told the clean-up crew to look for it, and they did find a sigil drawn underneath the front bumper of your car.”
Her head was spinning. Did she have a concussion? She must, if she’d crashed full-force into that empty building. But if that was really what had happened, shouldn’t she be in far worse shape than she was right now? Why was she here, rather than at the hospital?
So many questions crowded her mind, she wasn’t sure which one to ask first. Something Jack had said jumped out at her, though. “‘Clean-up crew’?”
Defender (The Witches of Cleopatra Hill Book 11) Page 9
