Wish Hunter (The Savannah River Series Book 1)

by Hero Bowen

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Heart pumping overtime and adrenaline flowing like electrified motor oil, Nadia felt every burning tendon of a body unused to running so fast. But it wasn’t her body. Not unless she’d gained over a hundred pounds, hairy forearms, and totally different anatomy in the span of a few seconds.

  What the hell? She knew the words were hers, but they didn’t come out of whatever mouth her mind—or her being, or whatever astral echo of a person she’d become—was attached to.

  Stop! Go back! Just stop right where you are! Freeze, damn it! She tried a bevy of commands, but nothing worked.

  Through eyes that could’ve used a trip to the optometrist, she saw the familiar lichen-covered benches of Oglethorpe Square as the body her mind was piggybacking on charged along the center path, startling a sweet older couple. Nadia had the urge to turn around and apologize, but her bodily host kept running.

  She was an unwilling passenger, along for the ride.

  That wasn’t quite right. She was Dominic, in a way. Every ache and twinge, each breathless gasp pulling in the mossy smell in the air, the smack of shoes on concrete that filled her ears—all of those sensations were shared. But not his mind. If he was still in there with her—and he must’ve been, considering someone was deciding when to turn and when to look around—she couldn’t feel his thoughts.

  To make matters even more frustrating, she was so close to home. If she could just commandeer Dominic’s mind, she could run to the Kaminski Mansion and . . . She drew a blank. What could her mom and grandmother do for her? Basha would still be pissed, and Grace would still be picking splinters out of her ass cheeks from sitting on the fence. Plus, after what Kaleena had said about the car accident, how could Nadia trust them?

  Dominic pounded on down Abercorn Street, past Nadia’s favorite Thai place, the tantalizing aroma of lemongrass, garlic, and Thai basil flaring through Dominic’s nostrils. He cut straight over Oglethorpe Avenue, the pedestrian crossing light on red. Car hoods came a little too close for comfort, and horns blared their disapproval, but Dominic charged on.

  His feet thudded against the sidewalk, the black-painted railings of Colonial Park Cemetery on his left. He ran past weather-stained headstones and yellowed grass that had scorched beneath the Savannah sun. Dominic glanced over his shoulder, as if he thought one of Kaleena’s lackeys might charge across the field of dead people, vault the fence, and knock him flat before dragging him back to the Wishmaster’s headquarters.

  A valid concern, honestly.

  Dominic’s incessant head-turning was starting to make Nadia feel dizzy, and their shared neck bristled with imminent whiplash. His eyes fixed forward again, his breath so loud in their mutual ears that it drowned out her every thought.

  Passing the corner of the cemetery, Dominic stuck out a hand and hailed a cab. One stopped abruptly at the curb, ignoring the stoplights and the traffic behind. Dominic threw himself into the back.

  “Corner of West Forty-Eighth and Bulloch,” Dominic wheezed, sinking back into the leatherette seat as though it were the only thing holding him together.

  His words were final proof that not only was he in here with her, but he had no idea she was his passenger. She doubted a cab ride address would’ve been the first thing he said since she’d joined him if he sensed her in his head.

  The cab driver gave a subtle nod and pulled away from the curb. Dominic settled into his seat, likely thinking he was safer with every yard he put between him and the Wishmaster. He closed his eyes, leaving Nadia with only the stench of his sweat and the vibration of the cab. Soon enough, he was snoring softly.

  Locked inside Dominic’s sleeping head, all she could do was think. You’re wanted by the Wishmaster! Hello? Earth to Dominic! This isn’t the time to be snoozing!

  His eyes only opened again once the cab pulled up on the corner of West Forty-Eighth and Bulloch, where adobe bungalows with fenced-off gardens lined the street. A nosy neighbor eyed the cab from his bike as he cycled past.

  “That’ll be sixteen dollars,” said the driver, holding out an expectant hand.

  Dominic pulled himself from the car in a fluster as he delved into his pocket and took out a crumpled twenty. “Keep the change.” He flung it over the driver’s seat and stepped onto the sidewalk, gazing up at the full-canopied trees—a small moment that surprised her, especially as he closed his eyes once more and let the warm breeze wash over him. A man enjoying a freedom he never thought he’d have again.

  Finally, he seemed to realize that though he had escaped, he was still in trouble. He broke back into an exhausting, lumbering run down West Forty-Eighth before stopping about halfway along the street. He paused to catch his breath, clutching at his searing sides, then he turned down a gap between two houses. At a cabin-like structure at the back, he dragged himself up three rickety steps toward a black door. There, he knocked.

  “What day is it today?” a harsh, raspy voice slithered through the heavy-duty door.

  “Independence Day,” Dominic replied, panting so hard Nadia feared he might have a coronary. If he did, would she be stuck in this body? How did this spy thing work? Could she go back to her body, or was this a one-time deal? The idea of being permanently trapped inside Dominic’s body . . . Surely, Kaleena wouldn’t have done that to her. Would she?

  Bolts scraped back and the door opened, allowing Dominic entry. Inside, the safe house—or whatever this might be—was drenched in shadow. An anemic lightbulb dangled from an unfinished ceiling, casting a dim glow around an equally stark room. Nadia waited for Dominic to look at the person who’d let him inside, but the bastard kept his eyes down, almost as though he knew Nadia was watching. Though, of course, that shouldn’t be possible.

  “What brings you here?” asked the same person who’d called for the code. Nadia didn’t recognize the voice, but it sounded like it belonged to a middle-aged woman with a penchant for smoking, especially judging by the cigarette stench.

  Dominic leaned up against the wall. “The wolves are after me.” He dabbed his sweaty brow with his sleeve. “Meet me at the terminal in three days. Get everyone. We need to ditch this city and scram into North Carolina before the Wishmaster puts us all in the ground, like she did with Adrian.”

  “I had a feelin’ this day was comin’.” The stranger sighed. “You best get your ass out of here before they come searchin’. Three days—we’ll meet you. But you can’t stay here.”

  Dominic nodded. “I know. I just came to warn you.” His breathing evened out, giving Nadia a reprieve too. “In the meantime, act natural. Don’t give anyone any reason to think you’re loyal to someone else. The Wishmaster thinks it’s just me, Tony, Lemmy, and Mike who’s still fighting for Adrian, and I don’t want her doing to you what she’s done to me.”

  “What’s that?” the voice inquired.

  Dominic waved a hand through the gloomy air, the dust tickling his nostrils. “I’ll tell you all about it when we scram. Right now, I need to keep running. You’ll be safe enough here, so long as you and the others stay low.”

  “I’ll get the word out,” the accomplice promised.

  Dominic pushed himself away from the wall, dislodging a flurry of sawdust, and headed for the back door. He drew back the sturdy bolt and slipped outside, taking a few strides across a barren wasteland of a backyard, before he lurched into another painful sprint through the unfamiliar neighborhood.

  I don’t want to go to North Carolina! I don’t want to stay stuck in this body! Nadia had no idea how long this little trip into Dominic’s mind was supposed to last, and she didn’t have a guidebook on how to get back to herself. And as Dominic’s heart rate skyrocketed once again, his thighs burning with every juddering impact of his feet against the tarmac of the main road, Nadia’s panic exploded. What if there was no way to return to her body? What if she had to stay stuck in this head until he died, or her body died—whichever happened to come first?

  Amid that wrenching panic, she became aware o
f the “thread” of her real self pulsating in her thoughts like a homing beacon. Whether it had been ignited by her terror or not, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t going to turn down the lifeline. All she could do was focus on it and hope that something would come of finding that center of herself again.

  Take me back. She tried to picture herself through an outsider’s eyes, the way she’d pictured Dominic.

  No sooner had she imagined her brunette braid, the moles that speckled her face, and her green irises with rings of brown, her vision warped back to that disjointed fishbowl lens and didn’t stop until she felt reality itself warp with it. Her line of sight narrowed to two pinholes, and then the twin circles of darkness whirled into a black vortex. In that twisting weirdness, she felt some part of herself being sucked out of Dominic’s body, and she had to hope she would end up back in her own.

  Nadia staggered forward, her hip colliding with a hard edge. It took her a full ten seconds to realize she was completely corporeal again: her limbs, lightly downed forearms, passable cardio threshold, twenty-twenty vision, and familiar anatomy were entirely her own. She could’ve sworn she had been in the wishing cellar when her “test run” had started, but now she was somehow back in Kaleena’s luxurious galleria.

  “What . . . what was . . . that?” Nadia tried out her voice, the familiarity washing her in cool relief.

  Kaleena was perched majestically on a cream-colored armchair, not far from the long dining table. The chair reminded Nadia of an oyster shell, thanks to its segmented upholstery and scalloped-edged wood trim, though Kaleena was no pearl. In fact, Nadia wouldn’t have minded crushing her back into sand and dirt.

  “Yeah, I’m waiting for her to come back. She’s still—” Kaleena, phone pressed to her ear, stopped talking as she watched Nadia. A second later, she resumed. “She’s still on autopilot. Keep me informed.”

  Nadia stared down at her hands, flexing and curling them as though she’d never seen fingers before. She had no idea how much time had passed, or how she’d come to be back in this room, but she definitely didn’t remember walking all that way—or being carried. It puzzled and concerned her in equal measure. If she couldn’t recall what her own body had done while her mind had been elsewhere, did that mean her “shell” had just been doing its own thing all this time? How could it even function without her mind present? These were philosophical and neuroscientific questions that she couldn’t even contemplate answering, as she was still managing the sensation of having a mouth and fingers that did what she wanted them to do.

  Seemingly out of thin air, Val appeared at her side, making her jump in alarm.

  “Holy hell!” Nadia shouted. She had zero recollection of Val coming back after escorting Dominic and losing him, but she supposed she should just add it to the growing list of things she couldn’t remember.

  “Ah, you’re back!” Kaleena smiled, still on her call. “Hold on a moment.”

  Nadia pointed at herself. “You want me to hold on a moment?”

  “No, not you,” Kaleena said to her and then spoke into the phone. “Yes, I want you to hold on while I find out what she knows.” She turned her attention fully on her sister, holding out the mouthpiece of her phone toward Nadia. “Tell us what you saw and heard.”

  A thought tiptoed into the back of Nadia’s skull. Her sister had put her out on a test run, but perhaps this was Nadia’s opportunity to do some experimentation of her own. She was supposed to be the “perfect spy,” but no matter how detailed the wording, there was always a chance that a wish could be misconstrued through the prism of the Wishing Tree. Maybe that meant the wish had loopholes that Nadia could use to her advantage. It hadn’t said anything about being perfectly honest with Kaleena, after all.

  “I saw Dominic running through Oglethorpe Square and down toward the cemetery. From there, he took a cab and . . . backtracked to the river.” The words flowed off Nadia’s tongue without a hitch, with only the slightest bump of her own hesitation. “He met someone at a safe house, though I didn’t see the person. I only heard them talking. They’re planning to run to North Carolina in three days.”

  Kaleena clapped her hands in triumph and returned her attention to the person on the phone. “You heard that? Good. That means we’ll finally be rid of these termites, in three short days. I know exactly the traitor who has a place up in North Carolina. Yes . . . mm-hmm. I’ll be there in a few to talk logistics.” She hung up and unleashed a satisfied sigh, then got to her feet.

  “Sounds like that was what you wanted to hear?” Nadia said coolly.

  Kaleena grinned. “Oh, it was. And now, I have to head out so I can do the fun part.” She paused. “But you need to go back into Dominic, to keep an eye on him.”

  Nadia swallowed. “I thought I’d done my part?”

  “The spying doesn’t stop until I say the job is done, little sister,” Kaleena replied, walking toward the exit. “If you’re worried about your body, don’t. Val can keep an eye on you while you keep an eye on our target. I’d say we could chain you up, but that’s a touch medieval for my tastes.”

  Val smirked. “I’ll be right here in case—sorry, when—you come back from your trip to Dominic.”

  “Oh, I’m coming back,” Nadia muttered, trying to buy herself some time before she had to enter that disorienting vortex again. It had left her feeling on the verge of vomiting.

  “Then chop, chop!” Kaleena ordered, already halfway out the door. “Get your front-row seat before it’s gone.”

  Val’s snarling face was only inches away from Nadia’s. “You heard the Wishmaster. Get on with it.”

  Nadia sent a glower at Val to tell her to drop dead, then thought of Dominic again. This time, the unsteadying fishbowl blur was a mere flicker as her mind flew out of her dearly beloved body and hurtled back into Dominic’s.

  At first, she wasn’t sure if she’d landed in the right lump of flesh. She’d left Dominic running on the road, but now they seemed to be inside a building, where an eerie gloom swallowed up the only vision she had to rely on—his. A strong saline smell, with a bottom note of rancid fish and a middle note of something distinctly chemical—chlorine, perhaps—bombarded their shared nostrils. If she could’ve hurled, she would’ve. Underneath those overwhelming stenches, however, she could make out the subtle, earthy tang of rotting wood. Maybe they were near the waterfront.

  No! I lied for you, and you came here anyway? What the hell is wrong with you? She wanted to grab his brain and shake it, but her hands were back at HQ.

  Had hearing the word “terminal” somehow influenced the lie she’d chosen? She immediately wished she’d said a park or a shopping mall, or literally anything else that didn’t remotely involve the river. Maybe the “perfect spy” part of the wish made it so that any lie she tried to tell Kaleena was swapped with the truth. That was a terrifying possibility she’d have to keep in mind for the future.

  Dominic must’ve taken a cab as soon as she left. Either that, or there was a bit of time-bending to go along with the mind-bending. Nadia cursed herself inwardly as she watched a flame ignite in front of her. Dominic’s lighter. It didn’t do much in the way of illuminating the dark space, but it was better than the alternative.

  Following the distracted flit of his eyes, she realized he was searching for something. In front of him stood an angular mass draped in a blue tarp. His meaty hands reached for the bungee cords that held the plasticky cover in place and tugged them free with the frustration of a man who knew he was on borrowed time. When he stopped to smear at his forehead with his sweat-soaked sleeve, Nadia couldn’t blame him. It was stuffy as all hell in here, and she would’ve given her wandering body for a cold drink.

  What’s under there, eh? What would someone like you hide in a warehouse like this? With a touch more light on the situation, she glimpsed the high, corrugated sheet metal ceiling of the building and the hulking dark shapes of other tarped goods. Something about the warehouse felt less than legal, but maybe that was
just the vibe Dominic’s shifty behavior gave her.

  He yanked the tarp away with a grunt and set to work, sifting through a stack of moldering crates that looked ready to crumble. After drawing a hunting knife to use as a pry bar, he levered the lids of the nearest crates and started scrabbling around inside, only to swear like a sailor every time he came up empty.

  Guns . . . I bet it’s guns. Maybe she missed some part of his code earlier. What if he had no intention of running? What if that actually meant launching an attack against the Wishmaster? Nothing would surprise Nadia after the last couple of days. She wanted to scream into Dominic’s mind that attacking the Wishmaster was essentially a death sentence. But he’d made his own bed when he’d hitched his wagon to Adrian. Hell, he’d tried to kill her. It wasn’t like she owed him a warning.

  And yet, thwarting Kaleena’s plans seemed so much more satisfying than seeing Dominic walk into fatal danger.

  At a slight scuffing sound, Dominic whipped around, and Nadia was keenly aware of the primordial fear that surged through him. His adrenaline spiked, turning his legs to jelly. As a man who had once been bulletproof, how long had it been since he’d truly felt afraid?

  He moved his trembling hand slowly inside one of the crates, where his fingertips closed over something rough and cold and slightly indented—a pistol.

  Don’t you dare get yourself killed while I’m in here! She shuddered right along with him as his gaze settled on a crack of light that she could’ve sworn hadn’t been there before. It was a door that’d been left ajar.

  On feet that weren’t made for delicacy, Dominic crept toward the far side of the warehouse, where the dim green light of a fire exit glowed. Nadia experienced every ebb and flow of his nauseated stomach, the constriction in his throat, and the rasp of his breaths. The only time in her life Nadia had ever been more afraid was the day she opened the door to find police officers with their hats held against their chests, as if they were already standing graveside at Nick’s funeral.