The Flight of the Silvers (Silvers #1)(204)
He checked David’s watch, then fixed his restless glance on the eastern exit. “He should’ve been here already.”
“Who?”
Theo was afraid to answer. Now that they were off the gilded string, his faith in a perfect outcome fell to rubble. Maybe their ride wouldn’t show up after all. Maybe Hannah and Amanda—
“Someone’s coming.”
The silver van gleamed with sunlight as it sped down the alley. With each approaching yard, the vehicle looked less like a DP-9 cruiser and more like their old Royal Seeker. Were it not for the New York plates and slightly altered chassis, the group might have wondered if their beloved chariot had come to life and followed them.
Theo pressed down David’s gun. “Put it away. We’re good.”
“Wait. Is that—”
“Yup.”
“The real one?”
“Yes,” Theo said, through a weary smile. “That is most definitely him.”
He’d seen Peter Pendergen in enough visions to know the man by sight. Their futures were hopelessly entwined, a twisting braid of kinship and conflict, smiles and shouts. At the moment, the man was nothing short of golden. He was the first glimpse of sunshine after a very long storm.
The Seeker pulled to a halt. The window rolled down. Now the others could see why Rebel cast Bruce Byer as Peter’s impersonator. The two men could have been siblings, with their hero’s jaws, their boxer’s noses, their feathered brown hair and rugged lines of experience. There was a marked difference in the eyes, however, a deep blue soulfulness that Bruce lacked and Peter had in spades.
He shined a handsome smile at Theo, both cheery and glib.
“Don’t tell me I’m late ’cause I already know.”
“Just glad as hell to see you.”
“Likewise, Theo Maranan. You have no idea.”
Peter’s deep and sandy voice danced with Irish inflections. His “T’eo Maernin” nearly chipped a daffy grin on David’s face.
“How did you find us here?”
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know, boy, and a few things you don’t. But right now we’re shy on time. Hop in.”
The side doors rolled open with an electric whirr. David, Zack, and Mia clambered into the cushioned back rows while Theo took the bucket seat up front. His toes brushed against a wooden cane. He couldn’t imagine it was Peter’s. The man boasted a powerful build beneath his blue henley shirt. He looked like he could land a few bruises on Rebel if the need arose.
The doors closed. Peter began a convoluted series of dashboard adjustments. He caught Zack’s stony glare in the rearview mirror.
“If looks were daggers, cousin, I’d be a lot shorter now.”
“Just waiting for you to explain what the hell happened. We called the number you gave us. It served us right up to Rebel.”
“Yeah. They pulled a fast one on me too. I’m just glad you guys are all right.”
“All right? Have you bothered counting us?”
“I know exactly who’s missing. We’re getting them next.”
Theo turned in his seat. “He’s right, Zack. Trust me. They’re okay. They’ll be waiting for us.”
“Waiting where?”
“The roof,” said Peter.
“The roof,” said Theo, a hair out of synch. He cast a leery glance at Peter. “You’re an augur.”
“Nope. Just a guy with good sources.” He tilted the mirror at Mia and smiled. “By the way, darlin’, it’s great to finally meet you. You’re not fat at all.”
Mia blinked at him confusedly. “What?”
“All right. We’re good to go. Strap in.”
David skeptically eyed the dashboard. “Uh, this is a Royal Seeker. If they’re on the roof—”
“Got it covered, son.”
Technically, the van was a Royal Seeker Plus. It cost twice as much as the standard model, with one key difference.
The Silvers jumped in their seats as the vehicle emitted a steamy hiss and rose six inches off the ground. The doors locked. The tires folded inward.
They went up.
—
Hannah sat against the wall, cradling Amanda in her arms while they both stared catatonically out the window. It seemed like decades, not moments, since the Pelletiers yanked Evan away to God knew where. The sisters could have been elderly women by now, a pair of doddering old crones who were as white-haired as Azral and as crazy as Esis.
As the wall clock turned to 12:04, Hannah looked to Evan’s handheld computer and saw several tiny figures bustling about on-screen. The tragic little creep hadn’t lied about the Deps. They were all over the lobby.
“Shit.” She smeared her eyes, then looked to Amanda. “We have to go.”
While Hannah spent the last minute in a dull static haze, Amanda’s thoughts stayed sharp as swords. She played the visceral images of the day on a savage loop—the two young Gothams gored by tempic spikes, the fierce man-demon with the six tempic arms, the giant tempic fist that pulled Evan screaming to Hell. There was no sense to this life. No God. Only cruelty and madness and tempis, tempis, tempis.
“Amanda . . .”
And that was exactly how the world would end again.
“Amanda, the Deps are coming. They’ll get us if we stay here.”