by Kate Baray
As he loaded it in the back of the Jeep, a thought occurred. “How exactly did you plan to get this on your flight?”
Sylvia wrenched the back passenger door open then gave him an innocent smile. “I was hoping you’d help sort out those little details, but I will be leaving a good portion of the content with you.”
“Exactly how much do you have budgeted for expenses?” As he pulled carefully out into traffic, Jack tried not to think about what a rear end collision would do to his precious cargo.
“Enough. I think. Why?” Sylvia clutched at the big purse she had tucked under her arm.
Jack tried not to roll his eyes. “Do you have a large quantity of cash in your purse, Sylvia?”
Sylvia’s lips twitched and she clutched her purse tighter, but she didn’t answer.
“Jesus. Okay, never mind. We’re getting a private plane out of Dallas. I hope.” Jack chucked his phone at Marin. “Call Max and ask him to hook us up with a flight out of Dallas. Quiet, as little security as he can manage, as close as possible to an airport with a connecting flight to the UK.” Jack shifted uneasily in his seat. He had an itching sensation at the back of his neck that didn’t bode well. “And keep an eye out for other magic-users. Ii can’t shake the feeling the Coven already has eyes on us.”
“I’m not picking up anyone close, but I’m on it.” Marin shot Jack a worried look then started hunting through his contacts for Max.
As Marin relayed their request to Max, Jack got on the northbound access road to the I-35 that itchy, uneasy feeling only getting worse.
Max would come through for him. The guy was a pilot and had connections all over the place. And if he didn’t, Jack would just keep on driving. Maybe Canada. Then a freighter to England. Shit. He hoped it didn’t come to that.
Marin hung up. “He thinks he can find us a flight on a small private plane out of the DFW area.”
With no definite escape route confirmed, Jack wasn’t surprised at his persisting twitchiness. But it made for an uncomfortable trip to Dallas.
The “DFW area” turned out to be a tiny town thirty miles north of Dallas. Which left Jack grinding his teeth as he weaved through miles of metroplex traffic and dodged the homicidal Dallas drivers en route to the airport. And the flight was only so far as a private strip near Boston. But Sylvia’s ice chest made it on the plane, the owner-pilot of the plane didn’t even blink when handed a wad of crumpled bills in payment, and the trio were that much closer to England. All in all, a win. Jack couldn’t believe they’d managed to avoid the Coven. Perhaps he’d underestimated Sylvia’s stealth skills. Jack had just about convinced himself of this cheerful analysis when they landed in Boston. He was even feeling charitably disposed toward Sylvia in the taxi on the way to Logan airport. Yeah, he should have known better.
CHAPTER THREE
“You’re freaking kidding me.” Marin smacked Jack on the shoulder. “Our friends beat us here.”
The cab had just pulled into the terminal’s drop-off area, so whoever Marin sensed must have been waiting for the three of them. Jack scanned the slow stream of late night drop-off traffic. A useless endeavor without his specially warded specs, since he couldn’t see or feel magic any better than the next non-magical guy. “Where?”
“Not sure yet.” Marin leaned forward from the back seat of the taxi van. “But I can feel it. My scalp itches with—” She stopped and shot the taxi driver a quick look.
He didn’t seem to be paying any attention.
How did the bastards know about Boston? Jack gave Sylvia a look. “No cell phone, right?”
“I already told you: no. I didn’t have one before I left. And I wasn’t about to get one for this.”
“Who doesn’t have a cell phone these days?” Marin asked, still scanning the travelers.
“Are you kidding me? You of all people—I mean, someone your age—should get that.” Jack, sitting in the front seat of the taxi, waved the driver on as he began to slow. “Keep going.”
Marin pointed. “There.”
Jack pushed her hand down. “Never mind. Let us out here. Right here.” When the taxi driver started to protest—there wasn’t room at the curb because he’d passed up the previously open spot—Jack interrupted him. “It’s fine.”
Jack shoved a hundred in the guy’s hand and hopped out. He fetched their bags from the back of the van while Sylvia searched the crowd for the offending Coven member.
“Just because there’s a witch here, that doesn’t mean they’re Coven. Witches do travel a little.”
Marin pulled the chest out of the back. She scanned the immediate area then said, “Like we’d be that lucky.” She slammed the hatch down, snapped out the handle on the chest, and glared at the rolling stash of magic goodies like it carried the plague—or something less curable. “We can’t get this on the plane; why are we even messing with it? And how the hell are we going to outrun them now? They know we’re here.”
“We’re in a massive public airport. What are they going to do?” Jack picked up both his and Marin’s bags.
Sylvia and Marin shared that look he sometimes got from magic-users—the one that said, Jack’s an idiot.
Jack shifted the bags to one shoulder and grabbed Sylvia’s. “Come on.”
As he moved to the airport entrance, Marin crowded in from behind him. She spoke in low, even tones. “A woman is approaching from the left. Mid-thirties, dark brown hair, glasses, no luggage.”
“Got her.” Jack couldn’t miss her. Everyone in the vicinity had some kind of bag or purse—except the witch. “She doing anything?”
“Gaining on us. Walk faster,” Marin said as she almost clipped Jack’s heels.
“Wait.” Slightly out of breath, Sylvia tugged on Marin’s shirt. “Air witch.” She heaved a breath. “Need to—l” She gasped. “Line of sight.” And then she stopped speaking. It took everything she had to keep pace with Jack and Marin.
“Shit.” Marin’s head swiveled from left to right and back again. “That bitch witch is suffocating her, Jack. We need to get her out of sight. All of us out of sight.”
Jack pointed to the food court up ahead. If they could make it that far. Sylvia was starting to stumble and gasp for breath. Jack threw an arm around her shoulders and propped her up while he pulled her with him. Three bags, a stumbling middle aged woman, and an aggressive air witch on his ass—he might be getting a little too old for this.
They finally made it to the food court and not a moment too soon. Sylvia swayed under his supporting arm and her lips had a faint tinge of blue. Jack tried to get her to sit on the cooler, but she shoved away his assistance.
“No—” As soon as she spoke, Sylvia erupted into a fit of coughing.
Jack looked around at the handful of curious passers-by. Even as thin as the crowds were, much more of this and security would definitely show up. He smiled blandly. “She’s fine. Asthma.” Turning to Marin, he lowered his voice and said, “And the security cameras? Don’t suppose you can do anything about that?” Marin was kneeling in front of the chest. She’d flipped it open so the contents were hidden by the wall on one side a Jack and Sylvia on the other. “Maybe. What do you need, Sylvia?”
“Red...blood.” Sylvia waved a hand and pointed, but she hadn’t recovered enough to speak.
Jack popped his head around the corner. “Shit. Pick one. She’s almost here.”
Marin fumbled around and pulled out a red plastic container.
“No!” Sylvia’s hastily barked response brought forth a fit of coughing. “Flow...flower.” She pursed her lips, mimicked blowing, and with her fingers illustrated movement away from her mouth.
“Got it.” Marin pulled out an upside-down glass jar. Inside was a brilliantly red, spiky flower.
Jack motioned for the plant, but Marin ignored him and approached the corner, unscrewing the cap as she went. She carefully pulled the glass up and away from the flower and held the cap—to which the plant was firmly affixed—then she stepped out
from their temporary hiding spot.
She didn’t go far, maybe three steps, and then held the flower up and—nothing. The lights flickered for the space of a heartbeat.
The next thing Jack saw, Marin held a plant with a nude flower. The spiky petals lay withered at the feet of their pursuer.
Jack turned to Sylvia. “What exactly does this thing do?” He started to gather the bags he’d dropped.
Before Sylvia could answer, Marin was already beside him. She hadn’t lingered to witness the result, just retreated. The color had washed away from her face. “I suspect the coven has some way of shielding this type of mess from mundane law enforcement, but if...” She swallowed, her face twisting in a grimace. “Hopefully the cameras didn’t catch anything important.”
“Are you ok?” Jack asked.
Marin gave him a curt nod and then avoided his gaze.
Message received. But he made a note to ask at some point in the future when they weren’t in mortal danger.
Jack darted a quick look over his shoulder. Their tail was on the ground, heaving her guts up. Not quite projectile vomiting, but she was still making a wide-spreading, foul-smelling mess. She clutched at her stomach and heaved again and again. “What does that flower do, exactly?”
Sylvia’s color had returned, but she spoke slowly, first taking a measured breath. “It’s similar to food poisoning. Basically harmless.” She erupted into a fit of coughing.
Jack hesitated, and then put a steadying hand under her elbow. “Uh-huh. We don’t share the same understanding of harmless.”
After a few clear breaths, Sylvia picked up the pace, leaving the moans and putrid stench of her victim behind. “Very bad, mostly non-lethal, food poisoning.” She shrugged. “Harmless.”
Jack thought back to Sylvia’s reaction when Marin had pulled out the red plastic container. If instantaneous food poisoning was “harmless” then whatever was in that container must be terrifying. Jack tried to look inconspicuous as they moved through the terminal. Easier now that Sylvia no longer appeared to be in distress. The ice chest didn’t help, but they weren’t drawing many curious looks.
“I’m not really sure how a blown dart reached an air witch target, but one must have,” Marin said. Her color looked normal but she still didn’t look quite right.
“All of them.” Sylvia’s tart response interrupted Jack’s speculation of what Marin had done to dim the lights, and why it had made her so ill.
An image of the withered petals at the air witch’s feet came back to Jack. That was one nasty plant.
“They’re hungry little flowers.” Sylvia spoke with a fondness that reminded Jack of an aunt speaking of a favored niece or nephew.
“Clever.” Marin shot Sylvia a respectful look.
Sylvia tipped her head, acknowledging the compliment. Finally, something they could bond over: cool weapons.
Jack shook his head. Giving Marin a pointed look, he said, “Hey. You need to be scanning the area for the second wave.”
Sylvia confirmed, “She won’t be alone. And that was my only blood lily.” Her lips twisted, and then she added slowly, “Some of my other inventions aren’t so crowd-friendly.”
Again Jack thought of the red plastic container. “Well, there are hardly crowds of people this late at night. So think about what might work if we can get them alone but in an open space.”
Sylvia nodded, her eyes getting a faraway look.
So Jack kept an eye on Sylvia, and Marin kept an eye on everyone else as they headed to the ticketing area. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for Marin to spot the next wave.
“We’ve got a pair this time. Maybe fire witches?” Marin hovered for a second indecisively.
“Not very powerful, probably muscle.” Sylvia blinked when both Marin and Jack stopped and looked at her. “What? That’s why you can’t tell for sure, Marin. Not much juice.”
“Well, it doesn’t take much magic to start a fire—just to control its movement and the damage,” Marin said. “Much more dangerous in a public arena than more powerful witches.”
And the witch duo was, of course, in between them and the ticket counter.
“All right. What can they do?” Jack pulled his two companions to the side, near a wall. Hopefully making them less conspicuous.
“Set things on fire, control heat—”
Jack interrupted Sylvia’s list. “Specifically to us, not the environment.”
“Ah. Well, setting people on fire magically is harder than you’d think. Probably not that.” Sylvia’s tone was matter of fact.
Jack rubbed the bridge if his nose.
“Yay,” Marin said in a flat tone. “Not burned alive—probably. Tortured—definitely.”
Sylvia tilted her head. “But probably no permanent harm.”
Jack looked at the petite salt and pepper-haired woman. When was he going to stop being surprised by the words coming out of this woman’s mouth?
“Hey, guys? They’re headed this way,” Marin said.
Turning to the ice chest, Sylvia said, “I have two things...” She leaned in and dug around.
“Shit. Security is headed this way, too.” Not that Jack was surprised. They’d lurked, lugged around a suspicious ice chest, and were now weirdly huddled.
“Oh, yes. I have the perfect thing.” Sylvia shoved a cookie in Jack and Marin’s hands. She took a bite of her own. “Eat. Hurry up. All of it.” Immediately she returned to dig in the chest.
Marin didn’t pause, just shoved the cookie in her mouth. The entire thing. Since Marin could perceive magic—its type and sometimes its function—Jack steeled himself and then followed her lead, hoping she hadn’t suddenly discovered blind faith in Sylvia’s concoctions.
He’d barely formed the thought that the chewy center had a pleasant lemon-ginger flavor, when the air filled with a fine powder. Jack covered his mouth and nose, but it was too late. He choked down the half-chewed cookie in his mouth and struggled not to gag. His nose had already filled with powder. Tears streamed from his eyes and he punched at his thigh. He was keeping that fucking cookie down. No time to think what the powder would do if he didn’t.
As his vision cleared, he saw the two fire witches bent over, gasping and coughing, only feet away. They’d clearly received the bulk of the...whatever the hell it was. Dry-eyed and breathing easily, Sylvia calmly walked away from the group. In one hand, she clenched the extended handle of the ice chest. and in the other she firmly clasped Marin’s hand. Marin followed blindly, her eyes swollen and her face tear-drenched. Sylvia motioned with her head for Jack to follow.
Where were the security guards? Jack scanned the surrounding area as he slowly stood upright. The guards were walking away slowly, their hands outstretched, reaching into the air. Blind? Both men moved erratically but without panic. Confused?
Sylvia hadn’t paused in her retreat and she was almost to the exit doors, when she called over her shoulder. “Jack? We are leaving?”
Jack trotted in her direction, their bags banging against his side. He nodded as he chuffed out a hoarse breath. He couldn’t cough. Once he started, he wouldn’t stop. His throat burned with his efforts to hold it in. When he reached Sylvia and Marin, he turned to see their fire witch friends recovered enough to see them walk through the exit door.
“Shit. They saw us leave. What the hell was that?”
“Devil’s weed.” Sylvia tipped her head. “Tweaked slightly.”
Marin dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “More than slightly. That’s some powerful shit.”
Sylvia raised her hand to flag a cab. “But not lethal.” She frowned as a cab pulled up. She turned to look at Marin. “You must be very young for your eyes to be so sensitive.”
A low growl emanated from Marin’s vicinity. But she didn’t say anything as she packed the ice chest into the taxi’s trunk.
Jack dropped their bags in next to the ice chest.
“Well, at least you have lungs of steel.” Jack hopped into the cab
after Marin. Lowering his voice, Jack asked, “What exactly does devil’s weed, your devil’s weed, do?”
Keeping her voice low, Sylvia said, “Confusion, temporary memory loss, hallucinations. My potion’s not lethal—I made sure.” The last was added in an earnest tone.
Since everyone had been alive when they left, Jack figured she had made sure—but that the question even came up was telling. About devil’s weed or about Sylvia’s potions, he wasn’t sure.
“Where to?” The cab driver interrupted them and shot the trio an uninterested look over his shoulder.
Jack rolled his shoulders, trying to think of a good escape route. He didn’t know Boston.
“Someplace central, public, lots of space,” Marin told the driver. “And not far.”
The first glimmer of interest sparked in their cabbie’s eyes. “Boston Common? It closes at 11:30, but that gives you an hour or so.”
“That works.” Marin dropped back against the cushion of the seat. “You don’t have a phone. Do you have any kind of electronic device, Sylvia?”
“Something with a GPS signal, specifically?” Jack added.
He and Marin both turned to look at Sylvia.
A perturbed look crossed her face. “I’ve already told you: no. But how we managed to fly into Boston of all cities.” She gave both Jack and Marin an annoyed look. “Boston? It’s a hotbed of Coven activity.”
Jack closed his eyes. Very slowly, he said, “Now you tell us.”
“How am I supposed to know what information you do or don’t have?” Sylvia’s aggravation leaked into her voice, raising it somewhat.
“All right,” Marin said sharply. “Boston’s not the best choice, but it was the one option we had at the time. We need to figure out if the Coven has some way to track you, or if they’ve just been incredibly lucky. What did you bring with you?”
Sylvia took a deep breath. “What I’m wearing, my bag, some toiletries, three changes of clothes, and the ice chest filled with my projects.”
“Your purse?” Jack reached a hand out.
