by Lori Drake
For now, it was enough to know she was safe. Or, at least, as safe as one could be at Eric’s sadistic mercy.
10
“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry you?” Dean asked, for the hundredth time.
Okay, so maybe not the hundredth time, but that was what it felt like to Joey.
“Yes,” Joey said through gritted teeth. She’d been struggling up the embankment for the last ten minutes, hindered by a bum leg and a throbbing head. It had to be the same leg she’d gotten shot in, didn’t it? The gunshot wound had long since healed fully, but every now and then she felt a phantom twinge. It had to be psychosomatic, but even at one hundred percent functionality, she still thought of it as her “bad leg.”
“Yes you want me to carry you?” Dean said, hovering at her side. “Or yes you’re sure?”
Joey glared at him, and he held his hands up in surrender. She went back to climbing.
“It wouldn’t have to be a damsel in distress thing,” Dean said, after a whole thirty seconds of silence. “You could hop on my back.”
Joey’s foot slipped on the pale, cracked clay and she nearly ended up on her ass again. Dean’s arm shot out and she grabbed it, using it to steady herself. It’d only taken him one elbow to the gut to learn not to try and grab her arm. He was a quick learner.
Once she had her balance, she looked at him and blew an errant strand of hair from her eyes. “If I say yes, it’s just between us, right?”
“Just you and me and the desert, Red.” He paused, then added, “And Roger.”
Joey sighed. “Fine. Turn around.”
He moved so that he was standing down the embankment from her, passed her Roger’s coffee can, and then turned away, bending his knees to make it that much easier for her to climb on. Once she was settled, he resumed trekking up the steep incline. He was right, it was easier this way, but she’d never admit it.
“Speaking of Roger, any news on Chris?” she asked.
“He says Chris is still stuck on the astral plane, but he’s found your mom. Sort of.”
“Sort of?” Dread gathered in her midsection. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, but Eric has them both now. They’re in the trunk of a car.”
Joey wasn’t sure if relief was an appropriate emotion, but she was glad they were both still alive. For one, she had a bone to pick with Chris over leaving her behind. Thank goodness Dean had been tailing them.
“Where’s the car?” she asked.
“On the move. He’s checking in on them periodically.” Dean paused and hitched her up his back, then resumed the climb.
“Which direction?”
“He isn’t sure. His sense of direction isn’t very good. But he says they’re back on this road, heading away. So… south-ish?”
South again. Joey frowned. She had a theory about where they might be going, but it seemed impossible. How could Eric and Madrigal be connected?
Dean spoke again, disrupting her train of thought. “There’s someone else with them. A woman.”
A shiver ran down her spine. “A woman? Who?” Had she been right? Was Jessica involved?
“He doesn’t know. They’ve both got…” His footsteps faltered, but he caught his balance.
“They’ve got what?” Joey asked, thumping a hand against his chest.
“Blurry faces?” From his tone of voice, it didn’t make any more sense to him than it did to her. “And they’re both warded against possession.”
“Great,” Joey muttered, but fell silent and hung on as Dean climbed the last few feet.
Once he was on flat, steady ground again, he let her down. A jolt of pain went up her leg when she landed, but she gritted her teeth and swallowed a cry. Taking a deep breath, she surveyed the road to the south. It was covered in an impressive mound of dirt and rock. No one was getting through that anytime soon.
“I don’t suppose you can get over that on your bike,” she said, eyeing the Harley askance as she passed Roger’s “urn” to Dean.
Dean snorted. “No, she’s strictly an on-road ride. And not just for vanity… I don’t have the tires on it, much less the shocks.”
Joey walked for the motorcycle, making a concerted effort not to limp. “Guess we’ll have to find a way around.” She pulled her phone from her pocket. It’d survived the wreck intact, unlike Joey, but she preferred this scenario. She’d regenerate; the phone would not.
“Are you sure you can ride?” Dean looked from her to the bike and back again. “I don’t have my spare helmet or anything.”
“I’ll be fine. It looks like if we backtrack half a mile, there’s a road that cuts over to the other side of the mountain, but it’s a roundabout path. Might be faster to backtrack to highway seventy-eight and find a bigger road…” She tapped at the phone, looking for the fastest route.
Dean retrieved his helmet and sat sideways in the saddle, watching her.
Joey looked up from her phone, feeling his eyes on her. “What?”
“Nothing. Just point me where you want to go.”
“Shouldn’t you be trying to convince me to get medical attention or something?”
“Would it work?”
“No.”
He shrugged, lips twitching in a faint smile. “No point in it, then.” He balanced Roger’s urn on the back of the bike.
Joey grunted and went back to her digital reconnaissance, but a thought nagged at the back of her mind until she gave it voice. “Why are you helping us?”
“Isn’t that what friends do?”
“Is that what we are?”
Dean tilted his head, confusion in his eyes. “What else would we be?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I thought we were until my stupid brother said— You know what? Never mind. We’ve got to get moving.” She consulted her phone again, then held it out to show him the route she had in mind.
He met her eyes and didn’t look down, not even when she shook the phone to get his attention.
“What did he say?” Dean asked.
Joey sighed. “He thinks you’ve got a thing for me. And while I need your help something fierce right now, I have to— Why are you laughing?”
A wide grin split Dean’s face, and his dark eyes twinkled as he took the phone from her, finally taking a look. “Don’t worry, Red. I don’t have any ulterior motives. It’s obvious that ship has sailed.”
“Oh, okay. Good.” Tension bled from Joey’s shoulders, but her cheeks heated. She wished she hadn’t brought it up, but at the same time was grateful the air was clear. “One of these days, I hope we can come to your rescue.”
“Counting on it,” Dean said, and held his helmet out to her.
“You should wear it. If we get into trouble, I can regenerate.”
“Joey, your head’s split open. It’ll attract attention. Also, flies.”
Joey stuck her tongue out at him, but he had a point, so she took the helmet and donned it gingerly. The gash in her skull stung when it came in contact with the padding inside, and she tried not to get too weirded out by the thought of Dean’s sweat getting into her bloodstream.
“Do you think if we hurry, we can get ahead of them?” Joey asked.
Dean rubbed his stubbly jaw. “Maybe, but it’ll be tough. You wanna try?”
“Yeah. I’m tired of chasing this asshole.”
Joey waited for Dean to get settled, then climbed on behind him. Her arms slid around his torso and she held Roger’s can against his stomach. The motorcycle roared to life, echoing off the mountainside.
Dean turned the bike around and called back to her, “Hold on tight!”
Joey nodded and tightened her awkward hold as best she could. Dean opened the throttle and the bike lurched forward, gathering speed quickly as they sped off down the road.
The last time she’d ridden with him, she’d found it exhilarating. This time, not so much. After the first time she’d looked over his shoulder at the speedometer and saw the needle edging toward triple digits, she
decided she was better off not knowing.
Thirty minutes later, everything ached. The vibrations of the bike’s engine weren’t kind to her healing body, and she was convinced she’d felt every crack and dip in the asphalt as the machine roared down the deserted highway.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket, but she ignored it. When it rang again within seconds of rolling over to voicemail, she considered signaling Dean to pull over, but they had no time to spare. When it happened again, Joey smacked her hand against Dean’s chest a few times and hollered for him to pull over. Whatever it was, it’d better be important.
Once they stopped, she fished her phone out of her pocket. It was Sam’s number, so she answered it.
“What’s up?” she said.
“You missed your check-in.”
“Shit, sorry. Long story short, Chris and I were separated. Eric has both him and Mom now. Dean and I are trying to catch up.” She’d probably catch hell later for giving them an extremely abridged version, but right now she couldn’t afford to waste time with unnecessary details.
“Okay, where are you?”
“Sam, I don’t have time to chat right now. Check my GPS, and tell Cathy they’re using anti-possession magic.”
“They?”
Joey cast her eyes skyward and suppressed a growl. “He’s got an accomplice. A woman. Actually, there’s something you can do for me. Go by Chris’s house and see if anyone’s seen Jessica.”
Dean shifted, twisting to look over his shoulder at her. There was a question in his eyes, but she didn’t have time to answer his questions either. Silent or otherwise.
Sam wasn’t finished either. “Jessica? Sure, but what does that—”
“I really can’t talk anymore. Trying to get ahead of them to intercept. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
She hung up rather than give him a chance to ask more questions and stuffed the phone back in her pocket. Dean was still looking at her.
“Let’s go,” she said, and gave his shoulder a push for good measure before winding her arm around him again.
The bike’s engine roared to life once more, and Joey leaned against Dean’s back with a sigh of relief. At least someone knew how to follow directions.
Chris’s hope that riding in the car might prove revealing turned out to be in vain. Eric and his accomplice virtually never spoke. He still had no idea who she was. Every now and then, the SUV hit a pothole or a dip in the road and Chris would reach through the back seat to touch his body, checking to see if the medallion had been dislodged.
As cross-country kidnappings went, this one was proving to be a bit boring, but it’d given him a lot of time to think. The next time Roger put in an appearance, Chris had an idea. A glorious, wicked idea.
“Hey, Rog, how’d you like to cause some mischief?” Chris said.
The stony look the spirit gave him was anything but mischievous. It seemed like the more Roger was around Eric but unable to do anything to him, the more irritable he became.
“As if playing messenger pigeon isn’t demeaning enough? What now?” Roger sat next to Chris and folded his spectral arms.
Chris envied the ease with which the spirit interacted with the physical plane. He still had to be careful not to slide out of the car unintentionally. “Dean told me once that ghosts can haunt things. Disrupt electrical circuits, talk through radios, that kind of thing. All I ever managed to do was burn out light bulbs, but do you think you can kill the engine?”
Roger breathed a put-upon sigh. “This isn’t an electric car.”
“True, but all newer-model cars have computers in them that control all sorts of things. There could be some way to trigger it to turn off the engine. Trip a sensor to make it think it’s overheating or something.”
“Maybe,” Roger said. “What if all I can do is put on a light show on the dashboard?”
Chris shrugged. “That could be fun too, and might be enough to get Eric to pull over on its own. All we need to do is delay them a bit to give Dean and Joey a better chance to catch up.”
Roger sat quietly for a time, then vanished. Chris hoped that meant he was going to try, but the way Roger came and went abruptly, it was difficult to tell. The car bounced again, and Chris reached back for his body, sighing when he encountered the spell still protecting it.
A minute or so passed before the first hint of something being amiss arose.
“Is something wrong?” the woman in the passenger seat said.
“Check-engine light is on,” Eric said. “It’s probably nothing. I’ll check it when we stop for gas.”
“Keep it up, Roger!” Chris called.
Roger was just getting warmed up. Chris leaned forward to watch between the seats as the lights on the dash started flickering on and off. The wipers came on, and Eric grumbled as he twisted the dial that controlled them to no avail.
“Um, maybe you should slow down,” the woman said.
Chris hadn’t realized until then that the car was speeding up.
“My foot isn’t even on the pedal,” Eric said. The engine roared, but the car began to slow. Eric must have hit the brakes.
“Look out!”
Eric cursed, slammed on the brakes, and jerked the wheel to avoid a majestic elk standing in the road. The SUV careened onto the shoulder and up the steep embankment on the north side. Eric tried to straighten out, but it was too late. The car tipped and landed on its side, sliding a ways before coming to a stop.
There was a pregnant pause, and then an argument broke out in the front seat. Ignoring it, Chris twisted to take stock of the situation in the trunk. Both his body and his mother’s had fallen to one side. He reached around her to touch his arm and crowed as his fingers encountered no resistance. “Roger, you did it! I’m going back to my body!”
Chris didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he pushed through the seat and slid eagerly back into his body. Pain from numerous bumps and bruises greeted him, but when he opened his eyes, the world was as it should be.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’m here,” Chris whispered.
“Christopher! Are you okay? What did they do to you?”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry. Let’s get out of here.” He squirmed around until he was on his side with his feet against the liftgate, then brought his legs up and slammed his feet against it.
“What was that?” the woman in the front asked.
Chris kicked again, hoping his superhuman strength was enough to overcome the latch.
“They’re trying to fucking escape,” Eric said. The click of a seatbelt being unfastened followed.
Adelaide squirmed around until she could help, and their joint efforts were rewarded with the satisfying sound of snapping metal. If only getting out of the thick ropes coiled around their wrists and torsos were so simple. Chris gave the gate another kick and it popped open, but judging from the thumps getting closer behind him, he didn’t have much time. He scrambled to a crouch and made for the door, but a hand caught the ropes at his back and yanked him back. He lost his balance and fell back into the trunk, wincing in pain as his arms were squished beneath him.
Eric glared down at him. “Nice try, asshole.” His clenched first connected with Chris’s jaw despite his effort to twist his head away.
Eric’s taking his eyes off Adelaide proved to be a bad idea, however. Chris got a front-row view of the head butt his mother gave their captor, taking Eric square in the nose. His head snapped backward and he howled in pain and outrage.
“You fucking bitch!” Eric’s hand went to his nose automatically; blood flowed freely from both nostrils. “I’ll break the rest of your fingers for that!”
Adelaide glared at him, lips twisted in a satisfied smirk as she scooted toward the exit.
From the front, Eric’s accomplice called back, “Quit messing around and get them out of the car so we can get moving again.”
Eric produced a gun from somewhere and pointed it into the trunk. “You want to find out if I’ve got silver
in this?” he said, pinching his nose with his other hand, head tipped back.
Adelaide froze.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so. Out, both of you.”
At gunpoint, Adelaide and Chris rolled out of the back of the car and onto the ground. Eric climbed out after them. Chris kept his eyes on the gun but was peripherally aware of Eric’s accomplice climbing out a window and coming around to the back.
“Give me some room,” she said.
Eric dragged them both away a few feet, giving Adelaide a clout to the head with the butt of the gun for good measure.
“Mom!” Chris struggled to his knees and shuffled closer to her prone form, bending awkwardly to check on her. She had a dazed look in her eyes, but was still conscious. Chris settled back on his haunches and glared at Eric, a red haze clouding his vision as his wolf gnashed its teeth and snarled its rage. His breathing quickened, and when the world started to shimmer, he closed his eyes and forced himself to take a few slow, deep breaths. He couldn’t lose control of his wolf, not here, not now. He did his best to think calming thoughts, but it took considerable effort to pull himself back from the brink.
When he opened his eyes again, Eric’s accomplice stood a few feet from the SUV with her back to him, wreathed in a golden glow and chanting softly. Chris had suspected she was a witch after the great levitating tree incident, but this confirmed it. He watched as energy gathered around her hands. When she cast it outward, it formed a wide, glittering net that encompassed the SUV. The woman drew a deep breath and wiped her palms on her pant legs, then held her hands out, palms up, and lifted them. As she did, the SUV rose off the ground and, slowly but surely, righted itself. Her arms began trembling toward the end, and when the spell dissipated, the SUV fell the last few inches to the ground, settling heavily on its tires.
The whole process had taken less than a minute, but the witch’s hands dropped to her sides and her shoulders sagged when she was done. “Get them loaded,” she said, weariness in her voice. “Bind their legs too.”
“I’m not sure if the trunk will even stay closed,” Eric said, but he tucked the gun into the back of his pants and advanced on Chris regardless.
