Got Thrills? A Boxed Set (A McCray Collection) (35 page)

And things only got better as Chad sat up in the far back. “What’s happening?” he asked groggily.

“Darlin’, it’s just a nightmare. Lie back down,” Beauty encouraged, wishing it were actually true.

Luckily, Chad flopped back down and out of sight. Unfortunately, that allowed Beauty to see the winged, clawed, and fanged demon barreling down on them.

* * *

Rook held Angela’s hand as they skidded to a stop. The alleyway was blocked by a huge chunk of a demolished building. He turned to find several guards chasing them. The other alley, well, that wasn’t an option, since a large shadow moved of its own accord. They were cornered.

“Can they see us?” Angela whispered.

“The guards? No, they are just taking their best guess,” Rook explained. “But those,” he said, indicating the shadows, “Those can see us as clear as day.”

The Amiculum e’Felos spell worked pretty damned well against most talented creatures, but Night Shades? Their vision worked perfectly fine in pitch black. His spell was nothing to them. But since when did Night Shades act as mercenaries? The woman in his care must truly be someone coveted.

He had to face it. He was outmatched.

But not outsmarted.

He closed his eyes and pictured those colorful ponytails.

“Fanny,” Rook breathed out.

* * *

Tomahawk held on as Fanny went stiff in his arms, and then her eyes flew open.

“Rook!” Fanny screamed as she leapt from his hold, scrambling over the front seat, where she clenched the wheel with white knuckles and yanked it to the right.

Tomahawk grabbed Fanny by the waist and tried to haul her back as Beauty pried her fingers from the steering wheel.

“Fanny, you are going to wreck us!” Beauty scolded, but it did no good. Fanny forced them down a side alley.

“Rook. He’s this way!”

Ahead of them, a wall of black appeared. Not shadows, but darkness itself.

“Oh, dear!” Beauty exclaimed. “Those are Night—”

They plowed through the line of creatures as Fanny dove headfirst and pressed the brake with her hands, skidding them to a stop right in front of Rook and—who Tomahawk could only assume—was Angela Morrey.

Fanny’s head popped up. “See! Told you!” she said as she clapped.

Tomahawk helped Fanny into the backseat as Rook and Angela piled into the car. Beauty did not waste any time doing a donut, spinning them around one hundred and eighty degrees as the guards sprayed the car with bullets. Rapidly, they outran the gunfire. However, the winged horde was another story completely.

Rook looked around. “Is it just me, or has this been way too easy?”

* * *

A unanimous “Just you!” came from all of them. Rook didn’t buy it, though. Just a few soul rippers, Yeti, and Night Shades? You would have thought the forces that wished Angela for their own would have brought at least one cleanup hitter.

“Uh-oh,” Fanny said.

“Uh-oh, what-o?” Rook responded, as he turned around to look out the back window. A huge, at least two-story tall, purple lizard was barreling toward them.

“That’s not…” Tomahawk said. “That’s not a Tainted Dragon, is it?”

Fire shooting from the thing’s nostrils confirmed Tomahawk’s assessment without Rook having to utter a word.

“Okay, now this just got hard enough,” Rook informed the group. But they seemed none too thrilled. He looked at Tomahawk. “You got anything useful back there?”

Tomahawk tossed him an automatic rifle.

“No rockets?”

“We’re clean out,” Tomahawk stated as he, too, grabbed a rifle. “Fanny, get your head down,” he encouraged as they both fired out the back window.

They hit the thing about a dozen times, but the bullets only seemed to tickle the dragon. Seeing their compatriot take so many hits and not bleed, the winged demons swooped down, surrounding the car.

“Um, we’d better think of something quick,” Beauty said.

Um, what did Beauty think he was doing? Rook was about to retort, when a glimmer caught the corner of his eye. Great. Now they had an angel joining in the fun. Too late, he saw Angela’s hand reach for the handle.

“No!” he cried, but she opened the door. Angela was halfway out as he dove to her, catching her around the waist. Only Beauty catching his pant leg saved them both from getting smeared on the pavement as they sped along the street.

The angel floated alongside them.

Rook shouted to be heard over the harp strings. “Angela, now is not the time for this.”

* * *

Angela struggled against Rook’s restraint. “Let me go!”

“To what?” Rook asked, the muscles of his jaw taut. “To him? Look at what his kind have done to your life, Angela.”

Could Rook not see how beautiful the angel was? How calm he made her feel? All else—the dragon, the demons, and even the asphalt just inches from their faces—was washed away by the angel’s glow. Angela was cocooned in heavenly light.

Rook tried to pull her back into the car, but the angel extended his arm to her. “Come, my child. All will be well.”

Letting go of the door handle, Angela reached out for his perfect hand. She would have finally touched the divine if the car hadn’t skidded around a corner, nearly throwing both Rook and her out. She could not die. Not before she heard the angel speak one more time.

Rook, however, glared at the angel. “You know what, buddy, let’s show her what you are all about… Speak your true intent.”

The angel’s eyes flared golden, like the sun just before it set. “How dare you—”

“Stop!” Angela screamed at Rook, but he refused.

“Speak your true intent, or be gone!”

The angel swelled to double his size, filling Angela’s vision with a white so pure that it strained her eyes. Then it was gone.

“No!” she cried.

But Rook shook his head. “Typical.”

He tried to tug her back into the car, but Angela braced against the door. If she couldn’t touch the divine, what else could Rook offer her in the car?

Rook gripped her arm, forcing her to look at him as her hair streamed in the wind.

“Look, I don’t know what they offered you, but I can guarantee you it wasn’t milk and cookies.”

“But he said—” she retorted.

“That you had to be strong? That God acted in mysterious ways?” Rook drew closer, ensuring that they would fall from the speeding vehicle even more. “Babe, that’s the oldest line in the book.”

Gunfire rattled from the car as Tomahawk shouted, “We’d appreciate some help inside the car!”

Rook’s grip became like a vise. His voice was low and filled with intent. “I could let you go right now. Let you die.”

The dragon took another swipe at the car. A purple claw barely missed their rear tire.

“Trust me on this,” Rook continued, once the car stopped fishtailing. “Your death would make my life a whole lot easier, and end this battle.”

“Then let go,” Angela replied brusquely, tired of everyone and everything trying to manipulate her.

Rook brought his lips to her ear again and whispered, “If that’s what you want.”

Was it, though? Dying in a back alley and never knowing who or what had stolen so much from her? Was that really what she wanted?

* * *

Rook watched as tears sprang to Angela’s eyes. Her muscles went slack beneath his fingers. She didn’t need to say anything as he hauled her back into the car. As she began to sob, Rook shoved her to Beauty.

“Ah, come to Auntie Beauty,” his Arranger said, as she lifted an arm for Angela to take shelter in, even as she evaded yet another demon’s attack.

Rook turned to Tomahawk, who was still firing out the window.

“What’s the situation?” Rook asked.

“We are getting our asses kicked,” Tomahawk replied through clenched teeth.

Well, Rook had already figured that part out.

The dragon seemed immune to anything they threw at him, but at least the demons exploded into flesh shrapnel. Unfortunately, there were so, so many of the winged creatures. And at this point, they were all dive-bombing the car, tearing away at the roof of the station wagon. Kind of like opening up a can of sardines that the demons hoped the dragon would charbroil for them.

Even with a rocket launcher, they would still lose. Crap. Even if they had a nuclear bomb, they would probably end up as dragon food.

But wait… Didn’t they have a nuclear weapon of sorts all to themselves?

Rook climbed into the backseat next to Tomahawk and leaned over the seat.

He grabbed a groggy Chad and began shaking him. “This is all your fault! If it weren’t for you—”

Tomahawk clutched his arm and tried to stop him. “Rook! This isn’t helping!”

Rook ignored Tomahawk and slapped Chad across the face, rousing him.

“You got all of those people killed back in Africa,” Rook said, as Chad’s face blotched and he began to shake. “And now you are going to get us all killed!”

The seal glowed beneath Chad’s shirt, and then burned through the fabric. The marred flesh began to flow. Rook jerked the kid up and pointed the seal out the back window.

“Come on!” Rook shouted, as he shook Chad one more time.

The Hellgate burst open, creating a vortex that lashed out of the car, catching the dragon by surprise. His thick, purple claws tried in vain to clutch at the ground, but the Hellgate was tougher than asphalt. Along with the dragon, half the winged horde, beating their wings in futile effort, got sucked into the vortex. The rest of the demons banked, screeching, scattering to the wind.

“I knew you’d come in handy,” Rook said as he raised his fist. “So sorry about this.”

Rook punched Chad once, but the Hellgate’s vortex enlarged, churning and groaning as it grew. Rook punched Chad again, to no avail. Using all his strength, Rook punched him a third time. Finally, the student’s head slumped over, and the Hellgate collapsed upon itself.

“Damn!” Rook stated as he shook his hand out. “We have got to find another way to close that thing. My hand can’t take much more of this.”

Tomahawk seemed wholly unimpressed. “Rook, you can’t just keep pulling these stunts without warning us.”

“Really, you wanted a heads-up about that?”

Still angry, Tomahawk turned away.

Fanny, though, hopped onto Rook’s lap. “I kind of liked the Hell-thingy. It had pretty colors.” She poked Chad. “Can we do it again?”

Rook gently pulled Fanny’s hand back. “No, sweetie. Hopefully not for a long, long time.”

Beauty’s dark eyes flashed in the rearview mirror. “Where to now?

“Where do you think?” Rook answered.

Beauty frowned, but made the next right-hand turn. They needed to get to a safe house, but after tonight, with his knuckles stinging? Rook wasn’t exactly sure anywhere was truly safe anymore.

CHAPTER 7

Rook

Angela pushed herself up as Beauty slowed the car. From the trash in the gutter to the homeless huddled over steaming grates, it was pretty obvious that this was the “bad” part of town. However, after everything Angela had seen tonight, people might want to reassess how easily they threw the term “bad” around.

They cruised up to a tattoo parlor. Its sign blazed “Flesh Works.” Since there were no parking spaces, Beauty pulled the station wagon over the curb and onto the sidewalk. The others all piled out, but Angela stayed seated. What else would they find inside that horrified her? And most likely wanted her dead?

Beauty popped her head back into the driver’s-side window. “Come on, sugar. It is really best if we get you inside.” Beauty looked at the hospital gown that Angela still wore. “And dressed.”

Reluctantly, Angela opened the door and stood up. Every muscle complained, and she found a huge bruise on her arm where she’d torn the IV out. Her gown was smeared with red, green, and black blood. She had to look away before her stomach turned over again.

Angela glanced over to watch Tomahawk get Chad out of the car, then lift him over his shoulder. He made it look so easy, like Chad was weightless. Then the girl—Angela was pretty sure her name was Fanny—struggled to get several suitcases out of the back. Rook helped the girl.

“There you go.”

Fanny jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re the best.” Then she grabbed the bags and skipped off after Beauty as she headed to the tattoo parlor. Rook indicated that they should follow. From the bums to the biker gang hanging out across the street, no one seemed to turn an eyebrow up at their most unusual party.

Only one lady of the night sidled up to Rook.

“Oh, baby,” she slurred, peppermint schnapps blasting them. “You can do better than that,” she said, indicating Angela. Any other night and Angela might have been insulted, but tonight? Tonight the woman was right.

Rook gave the working girl the once-over. “Not tonight. I can’t.”

The prostitute spat at him, but Rook just shrugged it off, but Beauty looked back. “Always the charmer, Rook.”

“It’s a gift, I tell you,” he replied with a tight grin.

Angela couldn’t get a read on this man. One moment he was verbally cutting a woman down, right after he helped Fanny with her bags. Angela could still see his countenance when he threatened to drop her from the car. He had been serious. He would have done it. Then she remembered his arms around her, carrying her through the blood and bullets back at the warehouse.

Which Rook was he?

* * *

Beauty opened the door to the tattoo shop. That place was abuzz, literally. Tattoo guns whirred as clients clenched their teeth. The place was sprawling with at least a dozen chairs and several more private rooms.

Across the tattoo parlor’s main room, she caught the eye of the purveyor of the establishment, Ax-man. Nearly as tall as she, he strode toward her, his leather vest opening to reveal his entire beer belly covered in ink. An arrow pointed down his happy trail.

Bikers. Always going for the obvious. But he was sweet on her, and right now they needed a little sweet.

“Beauty!” Ax-man said as he hugged her. “How long has it been?”

The smile on his face fell, however, as he noticed who walked in behind her.

He pointed a burly finger at Rook. “That’s far enough.”