A few minutes later, Max returned, leading her family. They were carrying an assortment of kitchen knives, rifles, and handguns. Max’s face was flat and cold. It made his stomach drop.
Her mother had her arms wrapped around the two teenage boys, her face pinched. Tris was holding a butcher knife and an aluminum bat and looking terrified. Kyle and Peter were caught between excitement and fear, as if they were about to get on a roller coaster. Tris’s two girls brought up the rear, carrying golf clubs and pulling small suitcases.
Alexander ignored them, going to Max, putting his hands on her arms, and holding her gently. He ignored the stares of her family.
“What happened?”
“Jim. He’s dead. Coughed up a bunch of blood and then—”
She tried to pull away.
He tightened his grip. “I am sorry.” He pulled her roughly against his chest, hugging her tightly. “He died well.”
“He died because of me. He shouldn’t have been here at all.”
“He made his own choice. It is what friends do,” he said against her hair.
For a moment, he felt her clutch him tight. Then she twisted away. “Let’s get this over with.”
She turned. “Everyone, remember what I told you. As soon as we cross the ward line, we’ll be under attack. If I’m right and we’re the only humans left alive in Winters, then there’s likely to be quite a swarm of obake waiting. Be ready to kill them; they certainly won’t hesitate to kill you.”
She looked at her father. “Peter, you’re driving. Alexander is going to guard you. He’s going to kill everything that comes at you. The Leshii and I are going to lead the way. You won’t be able to see much, maybe not even at all, which is going to make guiding you a bitch. But that’s not the only problem. The smoke is going to try to trick you. It’s going to give you illusions. You need to ignore them. Listen to Alexander and steer. If we get stuck in the smoke, we’re dead. Are you going to be able to do that?”
Her father’s childish excitement faded and he sobered. “I’ll do it. How am I supposed to stay on the road if I can’t see anything?”
“I’m still working the signals out,” she said. “Get in.”
He went to get into the front seat. Alexander motioned the others to get into the stock trailer. It was clean but for wisps of hay. The floor was wood and the sides were steel. Small sliding windows lined the upper half on both sides, with larger windows at the back. They were already closed and secured with twists of wire.
“Careful,” he said before shutting the door. “The smoke will get thick in here. The bakemono can cast illusions. Make sure you know where everyone is before you attack. You are safe until they take human form. Then do not hesitate. You cannot have mercy, and you cannot hold back. They will kill you if you do not kill them first. Remember, they are no stronger than ordinary humans and will die easily enough.”
They stared with eyes full of horrified denial. Four teenagers, a mother and grandmother, and a witch with untried power and skill. Alexander grimaced and hoped they would have the stomach to do what they had to do.
“Chain the door when I shut it. Good luck.”
He swung the door closed and listened as the chain rattled and the lock snicked into place. He hoped they would do what was necessary to save themselves. Max and he could only do so much.
Alexander rattled the door to be sure it was secure, then returned to Max. The Leshii had appeared and now gathered around her. Max looked at the father. “I know you don’t like metal, but I think your family is safer in the back of the truck.”
He looked past her and then back and shook his head. “No harm to us from them.”
He said “them” like he was talking about maggots. Alexander smiled and hoped the creature was not overconfident.
“Then that just leaves the problem of guiding the truck. The Leshii will have to guide Peter with their voices. Luckily, it is not far. Once we get to the main road, it is not even a mile to where we left the car,” he said.
“A mile is a hell of a long way when everybody’s out to kill you,” she said.
“Should be exciting, then.”
She grinned. “No doubt about it.”
Max unwound the witch chain from her waist and laid her sword on the hood. She fastened the chain to the grille on the passenger side. Alexander did the same, threading his through two holes he punched in the driver door with his sword. Tethered to the truck, they could not get lost in the smoke.
“Ready?” Max asked.
Peter nodded. Sweat rolled down his forehead. His face was tense. Good. He was finally figuring out that this was no game. He turned his head to look at Alexander.
“I love my daughter. I never meant to hurt her. I never in a million years would have thought Giselle could do something like this. She was always such a sweet girl and I thought she was like me—a hedgewitch. Nothing more. I would have warned Anne—Max—if I had thought she was in danger.” He faced the windshield again. “Tell her that for me, in case.”
“I will,” Alexander said. “We should go.”
Max’s father took a slow breath and nodded. “Right.” He twisted the key and the truck rumbled to life.
“Nice and slow,” Alexander reminded him, stepping up onto the running board.
The truck rolled forward, following Max and the Leshii. The two elder aunts held the hands of the children, and the parents walked just ahead. Pale green magic limned them all. Max walked to their right.
As if feeling Alexander’s eyes on her, she turned. “Try not to get killed.”
“Are you saying you would miss me?”
“Yeah, Slick. That’s what I’m saying. You’re like a boil on my ass that I’ve gotten used to.”
“That is so sweet. Like a Hallmark card from hell.”
She laughed. “I do like you, Slick.”
“It is a start.”
They had reached the entrance of the orchard, where the driveway cut through to the main road. The ward line glowed faintly against the wall of white smoke.
“Ready?” Alexander asked Peter.
The other man nodded jerkily, his jaw flexing and his hands knotting on the steering wheel as he stared ahead of him.
Alexander held his sword ready, counting again the number of grenades in his bandolier. There were four. And six flash bombs, all given to him by Maple when they’d left the dead covenstead. He doubted the latter would do much good against the obake, but he would not count them out yet.
Max looked over her shoulder and nodded at him. Just then, she stiffened, lifting her head as if smelling something. Alexander did the same. Diesel fumes and smoke overwhelmed his senses, but then he caught a whiff of something else. He put a hand on Peter’s shoulder.
“Stop.”
The truck jerked to a halt. “What’s wrong?” Peter demanded hoarsely.
“Maybe something is right. Hold on.”
Alexander unfastened his witch chain as Max did the same. He bounded over the hood to join her. She prowled back toward the house and he headed out to the left. He found the scent trail and followed it. Max veered to join him. They went around the side of the house on silent feet, approaching the intruders from behind.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” Max demanded.
Ivy, Oak, and Steel jumped guiltily and spun around. They were covered with blood, their clothes torn. The wounds they had suffered were healing, and they looked a lot better than they had.
“We thought you might need some help,” Ivy said, flushing to the roots of her hair.
Max stared stony-eyed. “You’re supposed to be on your way north.”
Ivy lifted a shoulder in a defiant half-shrug, but did not answer.
“How did you even find us here?” Max demanded.
“Steel. He can find anything anywhere. It’s one of his talents.”
Alexander eyed the blond Blade appraisingly. He was one of the twins. He looked far less shy and diffident than before. Now he prow
led about, sensing and searching.
“Where are the others?” Max asked.
“By your car. Waiting for us in the RV.”
“Shit. Holy mother of fucking night.” Max scraped her fingers through her hair. “What were you thinking? Have you seen what’s coming down the valley? And you left your witches out there hanging?”
Again Ivy gave that shrug, but her expression was tenacious. “We owe you.”
“Are you saying you don’t need help?” Oak asked. His arms were crossed, and he stood hipshot, his brows raised, his chin outthrust.
“No, dumbshit. I’m saying you are too stupid for words,” Max snapped. “All right. You’re here. Let’s get going.”
“Can he find his way back to the cars on the road?” Alexander asked, still watching Steel.
Ivy nodded. “He’s amazing. Plus Flint is back there. Because they are twins, they always know where the other one is. As good as GPS.”
Alexander glanced at Max. “Put him in the truck with your father, and we do not have to have the Leshii.”
Her lip curled in an animal snarl. “I’m not leaving them. I promised them a place to go.”
“Of course not, but it means we can find our way without their help. We can go faster.”
She gave a sharp nod and stalked away. Ivy hurried after, and Steel wound back and forth behind like a hunting dog. Oak fell in beside Alexander.
“How come you’re both Blade Primes?” he asked suddenly. “I’ve been wondering since we found you.”
“It is a long story.”
“But you work together?”
“She is Prime. I am one of her Blades.” Or he hoped to be. That was still to be determined.
You will be Prime.
Not a fucking chance.
“Never heard of a Prime serving under another Prime.”
“And you have heard of everything, right?” Alexander’s temper was rising.
Oak ducked his head and eased away, abashed. “No offense meant.” Then, “Are you guys really going to let us stay at your coven?”
Is this all a trap? was the underlying question. That he had the balls to ask in the face of an angry Prime showed he was not a coward.
“Depends on you and your witches. Helping us will not hurt.”
“That’s what Maple said. That, and we all agreed we owe you. Bad karma to show up at the covenstead when we could’ve stayed and helped you.”
“We are glad for the help.”
Oak looked at Max and grimaced. “I could tell.”
“She is letting you walk behind her. It means something.”
The other man looked taken aback and then nodded slowly. “Our Prime was not given to thinking a lot about fighting. Patricia wasn’t that kind of witch.”
“I did not know there was any other kind.”
“She liked to grow things. She was an artist, too. All the coven were. She didn’t go looking for trouble. That’s why it was a full coven even though she wasn’t all that strong. She was good to us.”
He face tightened with grief, surprising Alexander. He hadn’t thought Oak was capable of anything besides anger.
Max reached the truck with Ivy and Steel.
“Get in the cab with Peter,” she told the blond Blade, and turned to the Leshii. “We can go faster now without your help. You’ve got to ride. Can you do that?”
The father looked up at her. “We made bargain.”
“We did, and I will stick to my end of it. But we have someone to guide us faster than you can, which means fewer chances for the rest of us to die. So you need to ride.”
“In iron box.” His voice was thick with distaste.
“I’m afraid so. It won’t be long.”
“Will hurt.”
“I know.” She waited.
Asking them to ride inside the trailer was a lot. Alexander knew she did not want them in the back of the truck. She would put Ivy and Oak there to keep any obake from breaking through the back window and attacking her father and Steel. That left no room for the Leshii.
The father looked at the truck and the trailer, then motioned for his family to follow. Max and Alexander followed to let the family inside. But the Leshii stopped at the front of the trailer. Then the mother climbed up the front of it. From her hands extended small tendrils that clung to the metal. She clambered up and reached down, and now her arms lengthened, turning into long, snakelike vines. She wrapped the two children and lifted them. Then the aunts and father followed her up. They sat on the top in a diamond shape, with the father and mother in front and back, the two aunts on the sides, and the children in the middle. After a moment, a green bubble of light rose around them.
Then, to Alexander’s surprise, it pushed out, enveloping most of the trailer. The father looked down at Max. “Bargain?”
Never take a favor when you do not know the cost.
She nodded. “Yes.”
As he expected, she appointed Ivy and Oak to the bed of the truck. Alexander took up his position again, fastening himself with the witch chain. Max took the passenger-side running board, punching holes in the door to anchor her chain.
“Still won’t go fast,” Steel mumbled.
Alexander was beginning to think he could not speak any louder.
“How fast?” Max asked through the window.
“Maybe thirty.”
She looked across them to Alexander. “Do we need blindfolds?”
“The others came through without them. They might be too busy to worry about illusions.”
“Then let’s get on with it. Get us out of here safe, Steel.” She squeezed his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.
Alexander smiled to himself. Max had that effect. She was dangerous and scary. Thank the spirits for that. It kept her alive, and it was sexy as hell.
The truck rolled forward again. This time it did not stop at the ward line. Fire flickered through him as they crossed. Alexander hardly noticed. They were in the smoke now, and he could hear the coruscating howls of obake as they called one another to the hunt. His entire body tensed. There must have been hundreds. Thousands, even. They must have been gathering around the farmhouse, preparing to attack the wards. Lucky for them, their prey was coming out.
He firmed his hand on the sword and took a grenade from his bandolier, pulling the pin with his teeth and spitting it out. He heard the ping of pins hitting the bed of the truck as Oak and Ivy did the same.
The smoke swirled and moved, so thick it was like swimming in milk. Sounds seemed both close and far away. Steel murmured directions, talking nonstop to Peter, as if aware that the driver needed reassuring in the blinding smoke. “Straight ahead now, easy, steady, don’t worry if you hit things, they need hitting, go a little left, not too much, that’s good …..” His voice was gentle, as if soothing a frightened animal.
Then Alexander ceased to listen.
Teeth and claws boiled up at him. They leaped up to his face and arms, ripping and tearing. He battered at them with the sword. The truck swerved and bumped as it ran over bodies. There were squeals and shrieks and whimpers. Oak swore and went silent as he fought the swarming obake. Alexander heard the whine of Max’s sword and the wet smack as it hit flesh. A grenade exploded twenty feet away. Alexander tossed his. The explosions rocked the truck. Muffled screams erupted inside the trailer. But the grenades did little good. To be of real help, they needed to explode right beside the truck, which would blow them off the road.
Pain traveled up Alexander’s legs. He had not expected so many obake. He kicked and slashed, drawing his knife and swinging with both arms. Still, the creatures climbed on him.
“Faster!” he called to Peter and Steel.
The truck lurched, and they bumped and heaved like they were on a deeply rutted road.
“Hold on!” yelled Steel, and then the truck turned sharply. Tires squealed as they caught the blacktop.
Obake fell away. Alexander clung to the frame of the truck to keep from fa
lling off. He heard the patter of feet, and the ghostly hands of the bakemono caught at him without any effect. The truck swerved again, and Peter swore and coughed, as did Ivy and Oak. Steel continued his calm reassurances, his voice turning raw and raspy. Alexander’s throat felt like he’d swallowed acid, and his lungs seemed to bubble without letting him draw a breath. The smoke was thickening, and his chest squeezed painfully.
Human hands grabbed at him. Men and women alike. Dozens of them. They clutched at him, dragging him down. He fell off the truck. Shrieks of triumph sounded from a chorus of bakemono throats. Fangs and claws gnawed and scraped at him. He was being dragged along the ground by the witch chain. Obake wrenched at the witch chain, then followed it down to his waist to untie it. He wrapped his wrist in the chain, gripping it tightly in case they succeeded, chopping at them with his sword as he did.
Screams filled the air and fists pounded him. They grabbed his hair and stabbed at his eyes. He bit down on the thumb that hooked into his mouth. His teeth cut through skin and Uncanny blood spilled across his tongue. He coughed and twisted away. Another thumb jabbed his left eye, driving in. His eye burst, and blood and fluid ran down his cheek.
He cried out in agony and kept fighting. It could not be much longer.
Bakemono straddled him. They had freed the witch chain from his waist and now clawed at his arm to make him let go. He used the sword like a club, battering at them. Every time one fell away, another solidified instantly in its place.
The truck veered. Alexander slid underneath, just in front of the rear tire. He pulled his feet up and bucked, knocking the two bakemono on top of him against the undercarriage. They fell away and screeched as the rear tire bounced over them.
Alexander panted. No more bakemono came to replace the others. He felt their ghostly caress over his body, but under the truck, he was safe. If he did not let go and if his skin did not completely shred away.
He held on with single-minded ferocity. His sword was gone. He reached up with his empty hand and gripped the chain. It was slick with blood and had cut to the bones of his wrist and hand. His body flamed with unending agony. Smoke condensed around him, and the bakemono pressed their wraith bodies against him. It was as if they’d poured lye over him. He moaned and clenched his teeth, clutching the chain with all the strength he had left.
Crimson Wind Page 27
