Redemption Song (Daniel Faust #2)(26)
“What do you mean, weird?”
“You remember where the car is parked? I’m going to distract them. Run as fast you can, get in, and start the engine.”
I tossed him the keys and shook out a folded square of emerald silk, about the size of a tablecloth and edged with runes sewn in golden thread. My throat tightened. This was extreme sorcery, something I’d spent months working on and ultimately abandoned because the risks of it going wrong were too high. Tonight, the risks of not using it were even higher. I pocketed a handful of mottled clay balls and clipped a pair of brass hoops to my belt with a quick-release carabiner.
“Chinese linking rings?” Alvarez said. “That’s…of all the things to save, you’re grabbing magic tricks?”
“My tricks are special. Wanna see something cool?”
He stared at me like I was a madman. He wasn’t too far off, given what I was about to do.
“Watch,” I said and threw the cloth up in the air between us.
When it drifted to the floor, fabric runes burnt black like a fried circuit board, I wasn’t there anymore.
Reality shrieked at the violation as my spell rewrote the world in a heartbeat. Before my eyes shut, I was in the burning apartment. When they closed, I was nowhere. When they opened, I was down in the parking lot. Displaced air buffeted me and popped my eardrums. My stomach lurched, bile surging up my throat, but I didn’t have time for weakness. Two of the attackers stood a few feet in front of me, their backs turned. Cambion for sure. There was no mistaking the strain of corruption that clung to their souls like a twist of barbed wire.
One turned, aware enough to figure out something was wrong. Not fast enough to stop me from grabbing his revolver with one hand and throwing a punch with the other, driving my knuckles into his throat. He dropped, sputtering. The other one turned just in time to see me open fire. I put three bullets in his chest and another three in his fallen buddy’s skull. The hammer clicked down on an empty chamber, and I tossed the gun aside.
The next closest stood about ten feet away. He raised a shout, dropping a bead on me. I yanked the carabiner on my belt and grabbed the brass hoops, gripping one in each hand. I hurled the first hoop through the air, ducking behind the closest car as a bullet smashed into the windshield. The hoop zeroed in on the shooter’s neck like a guillotine blade, opening wide to leash his throat and then constrict. I grabbed my own hoop in both hands and yanked downward and to the left. The hoop around his neck mirrored the move, jerking him down, slamming his head against a car hood and knocking him out cold.
On the other side of the lot, my car roared to life. I saw Alvarez behind the driver’s seat, hunkered down low. More shots whined through the air, one smashing a side-view mirror a couple feet away from me. Time to leave. I pulled the clay balls from my pocket, flooding them with energy fueled by my adrenaline. Then I pulled my arm back and let them fly. Wherever they landed and burst, gouts of sickly green smoke blasted forth like water from a fire hydrant. The smoke washed over the lot, cloaking me in shadow as shots crackled through the air. I dove into the backseat of my car and pointed.
“Drive!”
“That’s—but,” Alvarez stammered. “They have cars in front of each exit, and the curb between was at least half a foot high.”
“We can jump it. Go. Now!”
Whispering a prayer, he hit the gas and clung to the wheel like a drowning man with a life preserver. I barely had time to sit up before we slammed into the curb, the car lurching up and over, leaving a trail of sparks as the rough concrete scraped against the car’s chassis. For a moment, I was sure we’d blown a tire, that we’d end up pinned on the roadside like fish in a barrel, but the old sedan held tough and soon we were clear of the billowing cloud. We shot off down the street with our pursuers left in the smoke.
I crowed, slamming my fist against the seat. The adrenaline and the fear and the waves of rogue magic playing havoc with my nerves spun together in one nauseating and giddy witches’ brew.
“That!” I shouted. “Is how it’s done!”
Alvarez was a wreck. He looked at me in the rearview mirror, stammering, not sure where to start. He probably had a hundred questions, but the first thing out of his mouth was an accusation.
“You…you killed those men.”
“Only two of them. And they were sure as hell going to kill me if I didn’t. Considering the other four are all getting off with bumps and bruises, I’d say that’s pretty damn charitable of me.”
“Don’t you care? Don’t you feel anything?”
I thought about that and nodded.
“Alive,” I said. “Best feeling in the world. I told you I’d protect you, Father. I meant it.”
“And I said I’d surrender!” he snapped. “You killed them in my name. Don’t you understand that? I share in that guilt. Who are you to decide their lives are worth less than mine?”
“Hmm. Let’s see. A couple of gun thugs who throw Molotovs into crowded apartment buildings, versus a guy who never hurt anybody and basically does charity work for a living. Yeah, y’know, I’m gonna call that a no-brainer.”
He fell into a sullen silence. That suited me fine. The roller coaster running through my nervous system coasted over its last peak and hit a broken piece of track, crashing hard. The frenzied excitement melted into a muddled morass of slow reflexes, stomach cramps, and a pounding headache.