Bitter Night

by Diana Pharaoh Francis

  She put the car in gear and let go of the clutch.

  “I meant what I said before,” he said suddenly from behind her. “I belong to you now. You are a Prime worth serving. Do not for a moment think I would choose a paltry witch like Selange over you.”

  Max slammed in the clutch and the brake. The tires squealed as they skidded to a stop. She gripped the steering wheel so hard that she heard the plastic cracking. She did not look back at Alexander.

  “It isn’t a choice between me and Selange. You belong to Giselle if you belong to anyone. As for me’” She broke off, the muscles in her jaw knotting. She didn’t want his admiration or friendship or whatever it was he was offering. She wanted nothing from him. She didn’t even trust him to tell her whether she had food stuck in her teeth. “As for me, I’m just an idiot who ended up a Shadowblade, and I’m still kicking myself. I happen to be good at the job, but mostly because I want to live long enough to kill Giselle. I’m no hero and I’m no saint. Don’t think I am.”

  With that she gunned the engine and popped the clutch. Another screech of the tires and they were racing back to the freeway, back to Julian.

  15

  WHERE ARE WE?” MAX DEMANDED AS THEY reached the on-ramp for the freeway.

  “Granite Hills on Interstate 8. Go east. After about twenty miles, turn north on Highway 79. Follow the signs.”

  Alexander was breathless and his heart was racing. His wounds burned fiercely. Max let off the clutch and turned onto the freeway. She floored it. The engine whined protest, but soon they were going over ninety miles an hour. The tension rolled off of her and he knew it had more to do with what he had said than the coming of dawn.

  “How long have we got?” he asked, then coughed raggedly. His body throbbed. Kev’s claws had cut deep, and his body was too depleted to handle it. The bullet wounds Thor had given him had closed, but fire wormed through his flesh where each had passed, and there was still a slug in his thigh that needed to be cut out.

  “Sunrise in less than two hours,” came Max’s terse answer.

  She took the turn onto Highway 79 as fast as she dared, the Celica sliding sideways and fishtailing before straightening out. She was forced to slow down on the winding road. The tires squealed with every curve, and it was all Alexander could do to keep from throwing up.

  “Where did you learn to drive? NASCAR?” he asked when they snaked through a series of sharp turns. He braced his arms and legs to keep from flopping around the backseat.

  “Once upon a time in the nineties, there were no speed limits in Montana,” she said. “Horngate is in the Rockies and I drive Giselle around a lot.”

  Alexander grinned despite his agony. She had a streak of malevolence running through her that he liked. He wanted to ask her more’to find out more about her and Giselle and Horngate, but he was afraid to. Likely she would think he was spying for Selange.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, surprising him again with her concern.

  “I will live,” he said lightly, then added softly, “I promise you that I have no loyalty to Selange anymore. I only wanted to get you away safely.”

  She did not respond. Alexander closed his eyes as they swerved around another turn in the road. Neither spoke again.

  They reached Julian in just over forty-five minutes from the time they had got on the freeway. Max pulled off on the shoulder of the road and shut off the car. It dieseled, then died. She looked over her shoulder.

  “Wait here. I’ll get the truck.”

  She disappeared and Alexander struggled to get out. His body had stiffened and every movement was a triumph. He heard the truck roar to life and half expected Max to drive away without stopping. Instead she pulled up beside the Celica and hopped out, coming around to help him. She wrapped a blanket around his shoulders before settling him into the passenger seat. He was shaking, he realized. He’d lost a great deal of blood, and the claw wounds were like streaks of acid sinking into his flesh. Realization struck him. The bastard had had poison on his claws.

  Max pulled away the makeshift bandage on his shoulder. The poison had festered, turning his flesh a greasy black. Mixed with the blood that continued to leech out was a greenish yellow discharge. It was thick and crusted Alexander’s skin all around the wounds. Beneath it ulcerous sores opened. Her expression turned hard. Without a word she opened the rear door of the crew cab and pulled a wood box from beneath the seat. She flipped it open and pulled out a plastic jar. The smell was foul’like rotten onions and animal entrails. The salve itself was white and lumpy. Alexander gagged and held his breath. Max dipped two fingers in it and scooped out a dollop. She stroked it onto the cuts slicing across his shoulders. He jerked and bit back a groan.

  “Been a bad couple of days for the two of us,” Max said as she leaned across him to apply the salve to his chest. “You should steer clear of me and Giselle. We’re bad news for you.”

  He caught her wrist, snaring her gaze when she looked up. “I made my choice. I do not regret it.”

  Something flickered in her eyes. She shook her head and pulled free. “You’ve got a serious problem, Slick. You should be running for cover. Are you stupid? Or a masochist?”

  “Trust me, I do not like pain, and I trust I have some intelligence or I would not have made Prime,” Alexander said drily.

  “Then I think you’re a few clowns short of a circus. Should I be fitting you out for a straitjacket? Sending you off to see a shrink?”

  “Is it crazy to know when you have found something worth having?” he asked, ignoring her sarcasm.

  Her brows went up. “Worth having? Buddy, you need a mirror. ‘Cause I don’t know what’s worth this. Not when you have a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

  He did not answer. Nothing he said would convince her. But he knew that there was more to Horngate than most covens. There was friendship and loyalty and a sense of doing what was right. He wanted that. Max had it and did not know how valuable it really was.

  Max finished applying the salve and straightened, wiping her fingers on her pants and screwing the lid back on the jar. “That should help. One more stop and we can go find cover for the day.” She glanced over her shoulder at the orchard behind. Smoke made it hard to see the trees. Her mouth tightened. “In a few hours this place is going to be charcoal.”

  She slammed his door and got behind the wheel. They reached the driveway to Julian Springs Orchard, and she turned in without slowing down. When they neared the house, she turned off, driving across the lawn to the grotto. The truck bumped over the uneven ground and the debris from the house.

  “What are you doing?” Alexander asked.

  “We came for the Hag and we’re not leaving without her.”

  “Is there time to search for her?” he asked, sensing a sudden brittleness in Max. She was walking the edge of something and he was not sure what. It felt dangerous. Her mood had shifted in that moment of looking at the smoke, and he had no idea why. Her face had pulled into harsh lines and she had gone inward again. He was beginning to understand that this was a mechanism for protecting herself, and from where he stood, she needed protecting. She was brave and capable and tough. But she also had a habit of flinging herself into danger to protect her own with no consideration for herself.

  He snorted softly. Somehow she had decided he was one of hers. Enough that she had defied Giselle and helped fight off Kev and treated his wounds. And she thought he was insane.

  She pulled the truck to a sharp stop and jammed it into park, but did not shut off the engine. Ash fell thickly, coating the hood and the windshield. She said nothing as she jumped out. Alexander followed, stumbling. The ointment she had used had eased the pain of his wounds, but he was still as ungainly and weak as a newborn calf.

  He followed her around the truck. She had dropped the tailgate and was wrestling with a rock’the same one she had been standing in front of when he had attacked her from behind. Her muscles corded and bunched as she lifted it on end. For its size, it s
eemed remarkably heavy.

  Alexander jogged forward and grappled the stone with her. “A rock?” he asked as he helped her lift it. They staggered toward the rear of the truck.

  “The Hag,” Max corrected raspily as they set their burden on the tailgate. The rear of the truck sank beneath its weight. “Legends say she usually spends summers as a stone. I don’t know how the redcaps lured her out in human form or what she’s doing in SoCal, though.”

  “How can you be sure it is her?”

  “Blood ties. I can feel her.”

  They pushed the stone inside and closed up the rear before clambering back into the truck.

  “Hold on tight,” she said as she put the truck in gear and turned it sharply around. “I think we can make Escondido. I’d rather not spend the day in the box in back.”

  The truck did not take the turns as well as the low-slung Celica. But neither did it slow to go up hills. Max drove like a demon, sliding over into the left lane to take the corners faster. Luckily there was no other traffic.

  Twenty miles brought them into Ramona. Max did not slow down as she blew through town, passing several hotels. As if sensing Alexander’s curiosity, she said, “Too close to the fires here, and Escondido is bigger. If Selange comes looking for us, I’d like to be somewhere less obvious.”

  Dawn was starting to break when she pulled into a Super 8 in Escondido. She left the truck running and pulled a credit card from a pocket on the visor. “Wait here,” she told him, then was gone.

  Five minutes later she returned. “Room 126 around back.”

  She parked and handed Alexander the door key. As she stepped out, despite the covering smoke, blisters rose on her skin from the creeping light.

  “Fuck. Hurry.”

  She tossed him his bag and grabbed two of her own from the floorboards behind her seat. She followed close on his heels as he let them in. He went to the window and drew the shade closed. Max was unzipping one of her packs. She pulled out two rolls of duct tape and a folded aluminum blanket. She pulled off long strips of tape and hung them from the edge of the desk by the window in readiness. Then she shook out the blanket. It was big enough to cover the wall. She folded it in half and began tacking it down over the window, covering the curtain, too. Alexander grabbed the tape to help. When it was hung, they went over the edges to fill in any gaps. Then Max taped over the cracks in the door.

  When she was through, she sat on one of the two queen-size beds with a sigh, scratching her arm. “That was too close.”

  “That was too close?” Alexander asked incredulously. “Not taking on Selange’s Shadowblades in Julian? Or getting out of the Conclave alive? Or standing between Giselle and the angel? Or what about getting the hailstone out of that damned box?”

  She shrugged, the corner of her mouth moving up in a half smile. “I wouldn’t complain about having a boring couple of days,” she said wryly.

  “May I ask you a question?”

  “You can ask,” she said with a wary look.

  “The moonlight burned you. And outside’you are more susceptible to sunlight than any Shadowblade I have ever met. Why?” Her expression closed like a door shutting. He sighed. He’d crossed the line again and bounced into the wall of thorns she surrounded herself with. But then she surprised him again.

  “The honest answer is that I don’t know. I’m not even sure Giselle does. If you figure it out, let me know.” With that she stretched and stood. “I’m going to shower. You shouldn’t until the salve finishes doing its job on those wounds.” She rifled through the bag that had contained the blanket and duct tape. “Here. Eat these.” She tossed him a ziplock bag of powerbars.

  “I am getting really tired of these,” he said with a curled lip.

  “Better than nothing. Should have snagged the cooler out of the truck.”

  She grabbed the other bag and disappeared inside the bathroom. Moments later he heard the toilet flush and the shower start.

  He kicked off his shoes and lay on the bed nearest the window and stared up at the popcorn ceiling, slowly chewing one of the bars and listening to the water, thinking of it flowing over her skin, between her breasts’He broke off the thought before he could pursue it. That is not going to happen. Not in this lifetime. He rolled on his stomach to hide the sudden swell in his groin. Max had not come out of the bathroom before he fell asleep.

  He sat up straight when she shook him awake.

  “We’ve got a half hour before we can head out. You’ll want to clean up. Eat some more. You didn’t get much this morning.”

  Alexander swung his legs off the bed and stood. The crusted mess on his chest and shoulders cracked. He looked down at himself. Red stripes remained where Kev had clawed him, and stiff soreness permeated his muscles. He looked at Max. She sat cross-legged on the opposite bed, her elbows resting on her knees. She looked drawn, but the bruises on her neck from the noose had faded to yellow splotches. Her fingers shook and a tremor ran through her. Her jaw was set in a tense line.

  A thrill of unease ran up Alexander’s spine. “Something wrong?”

  “Want me to make a list?”

  “I could probably use a scorecard.”

  “I called Horngate. No one is answering. I can feel my bindings to Giselle’she’s alive. But something is very wrong.”

  Max’s voice was flat, but emotion churned in her eyes. A tremor shook her again. It wasn’t fear’her compulsion spells were hammering on her to get home and protect her witch. They would not stop attacking her during the day when she could not travel. They could literally cripple her before she could get back.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, knowing she was not.

  “I’ll survive. I always do. Go shower. I want to get on the road as soon as we can.”

  Alexander hesitated, then did as told. Max did not like sympathy. The last time he had offered it, she had nearly torn his throat out. They had a fragile peace between them at the moment, and the last thing he wanted to do was blow it.

  They were on the road by eight. The vestiges of the sunset burned Max’s skin as they loaded into the truck. The darkened windows blocked the rays, but it took several minutes before the burn rash subsided.

  She drove through a Burger King and they ate while they drove. It wasn’t Alexander’s usual fare’he did not usually like fast food’but he ate the greasy burgers and fries with gusto.

  They drove up through Victorville and Barstow, across into Nevada, through Las Vegas and then up into Utah. Max stopped only when she had to for food, fuel, and bathroom breaks. She did not speak, turning inward so deeply Alexander was not sure she could see the road. Tremors continued to ripple through her, though she never acknowledged the fierce pain she must be feeling. At every stop she tried to reach her coven with no success.

  They stopped in St. George just before dawn. There was not enough night left to reach another town. Max got a room at the Holiday Inn, then they went to the Wal-Mart and loaded up with food before returning to the room.

  Max paced as she ate. Alexander watched her, leaning against the headboard. He was feeling better, though his body still felt unwieldy and weak. Max continue to look drawn, like she’d lost ten pounds just that night.

  “Certainly Horngate must be safe. Giselle is a powerful witch with a full coven. Perhaps there is a phone outage in the area?” he suggested, though it was unlikely.

  Max’s mouth twisted. She looked at him consideringly, then blew out a slow breath. “Did you hear what the Hag said about a war coming?”

  Alexander nodded.

  “It’s already begun. That’s what this business with the angel and the scrolls is about. The Guardians are summoning the witches to war. Seems the big guys are pissed at the way humans have been abusing the earth and the way magic is being strangled. They’re planning to exterminate most of humanity in order to bring magic back to the world in a big way. Witches will be their generals and the rest of us their armies. The scroll the angel brought said they’d raze Horn
gate if Giselle didn’t answer the call to serve. My bet is that the scroll Selange got says something similar.” She scowled at him. “You don’t look all that surprised.”

  “When Selange took your hailstone, she said that with it she might be able to defy the Guardians. I added it up and figured they sent the angel.” His eyes narrowed. “But it does not make sense that they would threaten Horngate. If they need covens to serve, why do that?”

  “I don’t know. Giselle thinks maybe they destroyed Old Home because Alton wouldn’t cooperate. Though if he did get a scroll, he wasn’t saying.” Max stopped pacing suddenly. “But what if he did? We’re assuming they all said the same thing, but the angel said that the fire was a gift, a threat, and a promise. But for who?” She rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand as if to remove a bad taste, then drank from a bottle of milk. Setting it aside, she stared back at Alexander. “He’s a weasel and he’s up to something. He wanted Giselle to scry before the Conclave’he wanted to weaken her for some reason, or he wanted her to hightail it home. But why? And then, why is Selange resisting? The Guardians could give her a lot of power and she serves them’all witches do.”