Crimson Wind (19 page)

“Thanks,” she said finally.

His brows rose. “For what?”

“Staying. Helping me.” She gestured at the amulet. “You could leave anytime. And I haven’t been the best company.”

“I told you. I have no intention of leaving until you tell me to go. As for your crap company, it is better than not having you around.”

Max shook her head. “You are batshit nuts, you know that, Slick? Or else you’re sadomasochistic, which amounts to pretty much the same thing in my book.”

“Maybe. If so, I am in good company.”

Almost reluctantly, he reached out and trailed his fingers down her cheek to her neck and ran them along the collar of her shirt.

Max’s toes curled, and her mouth went dry. Her heart sped up. He couldn’t help but hear it. His own was thudding urgently. She thought he might kiss her. He didn’t. She scowled. What was he waiting for?

“Sun’s about to come up,” she said to hurry him along.

“It is. You should get in so we can tape you up.” He kept running his fingers along the collar of her shirt, slipping slightly under the edge.

She ground her teeth together in frustration. “What are you doing?”

“I want you to tell me what you want. I want you to ask for what you want.”

“At the moment, I want to break your jaw.”

“I do not think so,” he said, smiling arrogantly. “I think you want me to kiss you. But you have to tell me.” His breathing had gone shallow and fast. He was not nearly in as much control as he made out.

“I—”

She stopped. She felt like a twelve-year-old. Except that most twelve-year-old girls knew a whole lot more about relationships than she did. Sure, she’d had sex with plenty of men, and she’d dated a few before she was turned into a Shadowblade; one had even been serious. But that had been a long time ago, and she had no clue how to handle Alexander or the way she felt about him.

The urge was there to tell him she wanted him to kiss her. It would be the truth, just not all of it. Sort of like the tip of the iceberg that sank the
Titanic
. The question was, did she want to chicken out that way? She had little time left. She could easily be killed helping her family, and if not, then Scooter was going to take her. She was pretty sure he didn’t intend to give her back. So what was she waiting for? Did she want to regret not telling him how she felt the way she regretted not telling her mother?

Alexander’s hand dropped. She reached out and caught him. His muscles hardened beneath her touch as he clenched his fist.

“I want you,” she said baldly.

He said nothing. She could tell he was waiting for a qualifier—
I want to screw you, I want to kiss you, I want to hang out with you for a while—
something more and less than what she’d admitted. But it was time for the truth.

“I want you. That’s all.”

Chapter 13

ALEXANDER CLAMPED HIS HANDS AROUND MAX’S head and yanked her to him. There was no finesse in his kiss, only his hunger. He opened his mouth on hers, thrusting his tongue inside. Her teeth ground against his, and he started to pull back, then realized she was holding him as hard as he was holding her. He slid his arms around her, clenching her shirt in his fists and lifting her up.

She wrapped her legs around him, her arms tight around his neck. Her tongue licked his and flicked teasingly along the inside of his lips. He felt his cock swelling and he slid a hand down to cup her ass and grind her against him. She moaned and arched her back, wiggling her hips as she pulled away from the kiss. He nibbled down the taut line of her neck.

“You really do pick the worst times to get me all hot and bothered,” she said hoarsely. “But I need to get in the trunk. We don’t have long.”

She was right. Slowly he let her go, pressing his lips against hers one more time.

Max stepped up into the trunk and slid down into the cocoon. She grabbed a bottle of water, a Gatorade, and a bag of chocolate candies from one of the grocery bags. Alexander passed her a roll of duct tape, then bent and kissed her one more time. She lifted herself up, meeting him with bold eagerness.

He could smell her desire—musk and salt. It was almost more than he could stand.

He pulled back with every ounce of willpower he could muster. All he wanted to do was climb in with her and spend the day between her legs. But her family was waiting, and whatever Giselle had foreseen was still ahead of him. His jaw hardened. He would not let anything happen to Max. Not now, when she had finally admitted she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

He folded the top of the cocoon closed and tacked it in place with a couple of tape strips. He could hear Max inside peeling tape free and pushing it into place over the seams of the cocoon. He did the same, making sure every seam was sealed. When he was done, he closed the lid of the trunk and got back behind the wheel. He smeared the amulet with his blood again, then slid it over his head and settled it against his chest beneath his shirt.

The first rays of sun crept up over the horizon.

“Are you still alive out there?” Max called from her hiding place. She sounded worried. “Alexander?”

He loved the way she said his name. It was only the second time he could remember her doing so. “Still here,” he said, looking down at himself, then out the window at the sunrise. “Beautiful,” he breathed.

The colors unfurled across the sky—pinks, oranges, yellows, and reds. He squinted, expecting his eyes to burn, but no, the brightness did not bother him. His throat ached as color swept over the greens and browns of the countryside. Above, the sky turned sapphire blue. He drew a breath and let it out slowly. He had never expected to see this again in his life.

A chill rolled over him as something in his body reacted, clenching him tight. His heart felt like someone had wrapped it in barbed wire. He sucked in a ragged breath as he convulsed. His head bounced off the steering wheel, and his feet kicked wildly.

“Alexander?” Max called. “Alexander!”

He could not answer. His stomach lurched, and he flung himself to the side, spewing his earlier meal out the window. The taste of it filled his mouth, overwhelming the flavor of Max. He heard her rustling around in the trunk. Would she come out and try to help him? She would die.

That fear overcame everything else. He reached for control. He had not burned up. He was safe. His body was just fighting an instinctive fear of the sun. Being out in it was
unnatural
. He twitched and shivered, clenching his hands on the steering wheel as his body settled.

“I am okay,” he called out to Max.

The sounds in the trunk quieted. “You’re sure?” The relief in her voice was sweet to hear.

“I am sure.”

“Then hit the road, Slick. We’ve still got a long way to go.”

“Yes, boss,” he said, putting the car into drive. “I aim to please.”

The road through the mountains to the coast was winding and slow. It was only two lanes, and there was little room to pass and more traffic than he expected. At night, few people drove, he realized. He was too used to that. But even after the eruption, people were still going about the business of their lives, which included clogging the mountain roads and making his progress ridiculously slow. Or maybe they had the sense to flee.

It took almost five hours to drive the hundred and seventy miles to Eureka. He stopped there for gas and got back onto the road immediately. The road to Ukiah was not as winding, but there was far more traffic. In places, it was stop and go. People with loaded cars drove erratically, and there were frequent fender benders. He did not get there until almost seven o’clock. Max slept through much of it.

Just before Ukiah, he pulled off onto Highway 20 heading toward Clear Lake. It would take them around the north side, and from there they could catch Highway 16 toward Woodland and then make a quick jump to Winters down Interstate 505.

The only question was, how far had the wild magic progressed? He could not see it from this side of the coastal mountains, but they would cross the bottom spur of the mountains as they passed Clear Lake and dropped back into the central valley. They might be driving straight into the enchantment.

He drove through Nice and Lucerne before there was any hint of trouble. He crossed an invisible line, the kind that marks the edge of a witch’s territory. As soon as he crossed, he knew there was something terribly wrong. He felt sick. It was an echo of the unnaturalness he had felt when the sun had come up. Only this was not caused by the amulet; this came from something else.

He slowed and pulled over. On the right was the lake, shining and flat beneath the orange rays of the falling sun. It would not be long before Max could escape the trunk.

“What is it?” she demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“I do not know. It feels like the
anneau
here is offkilter. Sick.”

“Sick? What does that mean?” She sounded frustrated. Like she was getting ready to kick her way out of the trunk.

“I felt something like this once before,” he said. “It was back in 1954. A witch died, and her succession had not been settled, and so the
anneau
went unclaimed for several days. Everything became unsettled and started to unravel. Left too long, the anneau will fall apart.”

She was slow to reply. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“The
anneau
is the heart of the territory, but it is gathered and woven by the coven and the territory witch. It must be bound.”

“Do you even know what you’re talking about, Slick? You sound like you’re making shit up.”

He smiled. That was his Max. “Only witches really understand it, and they do not talk about it much.”

He could almost hear her shrug of exasperation. “Fair enough. Giselle tells me nothing unless she absolutely has to. So you think the territory witch has died?”

“I know nothing else that would cause the
anneau
to become so unsettled.”

Except ….. the living void. Cold fear burrowed into his gut. It was coming. Max was going to die unless he prevented it. If he could.

“What about the eruption and the wild magic?”

“It has not reached here,” he said, his tongue stiff. He could not tell her what Giselle had seen. That in itself could get her killed. She might be so busy looking for enemies that she missed a deadly trap. “Wild magic would not undermine an
anneau
,” he continued. “It causes life, not death. Perhaps the witch here failed to respond to the Guardians’ call to arms, and they had her murdered. Perhaps the entire coven was destroyed, as they tried to do at Horngate.”

“I don’t think so. The Guardians sent Alton to take over the
anneau
when they came after Horngate. It doesn’t help their war any to let the
anneau
fall apart. They’d want a witch they trusted to take it on.”

Alexander agreed. “We should keep going. This is not any of our business. Give me a second.” He walked away to a nearby tree to relieve himself. There was no one around. In fact, the lack of any cars was almost eerie, given the bumper-to-bumper traffic on Highway 101.

He frowned, and the hairs on his neck prickled. The silence was too complete. Even the birds and insects were mute. Something was terribly wrong here.
Living
void. Giselle’s words whispered insistently. He felt his Shadowblade rising. It came sluggishly, fighting against the smothering magic of the amulet. The trade-off for being able to walk in the sunlight unharmed was a considerable weakening of his Blade.

He growled deep in his chest. Right now, with Max helpless in the trunk, he was the only thing that stood between her and certain death. He needed all his strength to keep her from harm.

He zipped his fly and returned to the car. His senses were dull. He got back inside and started it. He could feel Max’s Shadowblade pushing out as she rose to a killing edge. She was so strong. And she was
his
. His lips pulled back from his teeth in an animal snarl. The hell with Giselle’s vision. She was wrong.

He jammed the car into drive and gunned the gas. The tires squealed, and dirt and gravel plumed behind them. His skin itched with the feeling of being watched—of being hunted.

A few minutes later, he rounded a blind spur. He saw the spike strip too late. It lay flat across the entire road, made out of a two-by-four studded with long nails. It was crude but effective. He slammed on his brakes, turning the wheel. The car slid sideways over the strip. Pops sounded, like champagne corks. The sedan flipped over, slammed onto its roof and skidded across pavement, metal shrieking protest.

Alexander was not wearing his seat belt and crashed against the ceiling—now the floor. Windows broke, splattering him with chunks of safety glass. As the car rocked to a halt, he found himself wedged between the headrest of the passenger seat and the roof. The smell of burned rubber, gasoline, and exhaust filled the crushed space of the car’s interior.

The wheels were spinning, and the engine squealed. Alexander shut it off.

“Max? Are you all right?” The seat was pressing hard into his chest. He shoved against it. It gave more slowly than it should have. As soon as the sun went down, he was taking off the damned amulet.

“Yeah, but I think I want to drive next time,” she said with a little groan. “What about you?”

“Fine. There was a spike strip in the road.”

“Shit. Any sign of who put it there?”

He shook his head, then remembered that she could not see him, “No. But all I can smell is fuel. I am getting out.”

He pushed on the seat again and squirmed free of it, then pulled himself slowly out, looking around, sniffing the air. There was no sign of anyone. That did not mean they were not there. But what were they waiting for? Smart hunters would be closing in while the wreck still had their prey disoriented. So either their enemies were not very smart, or they had something else in mind. He edged around to the trunk, keeping to a crouch.

Getting Max out would require lifting the car up. After that, everything depended on who was after them and why. How many were there?

He glanced at the western sky. A few more minutes, and the sun would be gone far enough to let him free Max and take off the damned amulet. He was feeling heavy, like he was encased in cement. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. His brain felt thick as syrup.

He scowled. Was the way he felt an attack? “Max? Are you feeling this?”

“What?” Her voice was sharp.

His tongue felt clumsy and foolish. “Tired. Flat. Like breathing is an effort.”

“No.” She was quiet a moment. “It’s that damned amulet. It’s got to be. It feeds on you to power its spells. You’ve been wearing it for too long. Fucking witch tricks.”

It made sense. Now that he thought about it, the exhaustion had been growing all day. He had chalked it up to the long previous night and not getting any sleep, but those things would not do this to him.

The car rocked as Max moved around inside. She swore softly, a long chain of epithets. “What the hell are they waiting for?” she asked suddenly.

“I do not know. Unless—” An idea struck him, and he knew he was right with an almost preternatural certainty. “It is almost sundown. If Sunspears set the attack, they might be waiting until it is safe for the Shadowblades to come out and finish the job.”

She was silent a moment. “Any idea what they want with us?”

He shook his head. “I am not interested in finding out. I want to get this amulet off and get you out of there. Then we can run before they corner us.”

He scanned the surrounding area. They were already pretty well cut off. Except for the car, there was precious little cover. Across the road were two ridges that came down in a wide V. The hills were covered with boulders and scrub brush, giving plenty of cover to anybody hiding above. Behind them was the lake. They could try swimming to escape, but chances were their enemies were prepared for that. Only the road offered any escape, and a couple of good shots with rifles could easily pin them down and make it easy for others to come in and scoop them up.

He felt the moment when the sun disappeared far enough for Shadowblades to safely be outside. He ripped the amulet off his neck and shoved it into his back pocket, then lifted the car onto its side. It was almost heavier than he could manage. His stomach felt hollow. His legs and arms shook.

There was a loud thump, and the trunk lid opened, the edge of it scraping over the road. Max emerged. She looked at Alexander, then reached back inside and grabbed a bottle of Gatorade. She tossed it to him, and he guzzled it down. She handed him some power bars. He ripped into one and shoved it in his mouth, then tucked the others into his pockets. She grabbed the rowan spear and scanned the hills behind them.

“Eat,” Max said absently, still searching for signs of movement.

Alexander obeyed, eating two more bars. He felt a small surge of strength, but he still felt heavy and ungainly.