Fangs and Fennel (The Venom Trilogy #2)(34)

I looked in the rearview mirror and caught a flash of something, and the faintest of vibrations that was not Dahlia’s engine. I spun in my seat and stared back down the road. Another flash of metal catching the starlight. “I think we’re being followed.”

She glanced back, squinting. “I don’t see anything.”

Out of the darkness roared two big trucks, the rumble of their engines giving them away, even if they didn’t turn their lights on.

High beams flicked on as I thought about it. Dahlia yelped. “I can’t see! It’s too bright for my eyes!”

I reached over and grabbed the wheel. “Hit the gas; I’ll steer.”

The car shot forward and I screeched, struggling to keep us on the road. Steering from the passenger side was not as easy as I’d thought it would be. The tiny car wobbled back and forth as though we were on some sort of carnival ride, accompanied by the screeching of two women as they careened out of control at speed.

“More gas?”

“I don’t know!” I yelled back at her.

“Well, make a decision!” she yelped, and I dared a glance at the two trucks bearing down on us in the rearview mirror. Or at least I tried to. Their lights were so bright I couldn’t see them or the drivers.

“Keep the speed steady. I think.” I tightened my hold on the wheel and slid across the divider line so I could steer better. Not that it helped. The two trucks pulled up on either side of us, pinning the little car between them. They pressed us like a waffle maker squishes batter. The screech of metal was almost as loud as the high-pitched screaming that erupted from both of us.

“This is not going as planned!” I yelled. “Kitty puke on cookie sheets!”

The road beneath us changed, going from smooth pavement to huge bumping potholes. Each dip and valley sent our heads bouncing into the ceiling of the car. “Slow down!”

“Brake?”

“No, just less speed.”

Too late. Dahlia hit the brake, and the tiny car squealed as it slowed and the two trucks that had flanked us ripped past. The screech and tear of metal as they slid away from us made me shiver, my skin crawling with the vibration of bending metal as much as with the shrieking sounds. My eyes rolled, and I fought to stay in the moment.

“Out, get out quick!” I pushed her toward the door.

“It’s stuck!”

“You’re a vampire! Kick it open!” I yelled back.

“Right.” She booted the door and sent it flying off its hinges. She tumbled out, and I was right after her. “Come on, this way.” Dahlia bolted off down the rocky pothole-strewn road. I hurried after her, running hard.

The two trucks were ahead of us, backup lights on. We ran past them. I caught a glimpse of a long red beard in the driver’s seat of one truck. Damn it, what had Santos done, gathered up every Viking vampire he could find? This was not going to play well in my favor.

“How far?” I yelled.

“The checkpoint is at the start of the Grind,” she said as I caught up. Like we were out for an evening jog and not running from two oversized trucks driven by vampires who probably would kill us as soon as look at us.

“That doesn’t actually tell me how far,” I pointed out.

“Far.”

I pressed my lips together and tried not to think about how stupid I was to imagine this would go my way. I mean, after the catastrophe that was my life, why did I think this would be any different? I was a useless, pride-filled heathen. Dahlia and Tad were right not to believe I could do this on my own.

The words were not mine, but my mother’s, and they struck a fire inside me that burned away the words of my past. I was not useless, and I would not be forced into a corner ever again. I reached out and grabbed Dahlia’s arm, slowing her.

“They won’t have the stuff with them to hurt me; we need to face them.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Her eyes were wide, dilated in the deep darkness.

I tugged her to a stop. “Pretty sure.”

“Alena, we can make it.”

“No, I want them to take us there. We are strong enough to do this, Dahlia. We aren’t weak-willed, shrinking flowers that need to be rescued. Despite your name.” I smiled and she shook her head.

“You’re crazy.”

“Maybe. And you’re my best friend.”

She laughed. “Crazy’s best friend? Not a title I was aiming for.”

Two sets of overamped headlights raced toward us.

“They’re going to try and run us over,” Dahlia said.

“Then jump out of the way,” I said. “They would have some sort of walkie-talkie system, right?”

“Yes, why? What are you thinking?”

There was no more time for conversation. The trucks slowed as they approached us, but they didn’t turn their lights down. Dahlia blinked and her eyes watered. “Assholes, those lights mimic UV light.”

“Get behind me. I’ll tell you if we have to fight.” She did as I asked, putting her hands on my shoulders and dropping her head so her forehead touched my back.

The trucks were both turned off, the engines grumbling to a halt, but the lights remained on.

“You know,” I called out, “you’ll drain your batteries if you leave the lights on like that.”