I knelt beside her and touched her face. Her skin crumpled like burned paper, and hot grease scorched my fingertips.
Damn damn damn. I wanted her back.
I ran down the tower stairs. I didn’t know how much time I had before he healed himself, but I knew it wasn’t much. My mind was racing, wondering why Annalise had deliberately sacrificed her life for mine, wondering whether the ghost knife or the silver blade I’d taken from behind the door would do the job the Uzi couldn’t, whether my iron gate would ever stop hurting, and whether the pain from my iron gate meant that more kids were burning to death even as I ran after their killer.
I reached the bottom of the stairs.
Through the thick Plexi enclosure around the causeway, I saw Charles Hammer struggling across the huge black rocks. Then I noticed the tumble of broken gray stones among the volcanic black. That was where the rest of the castle had collapsed.
There was a twenty-foot drop below the causeway, and I knew I couldn’t jump down onto the jagged black rocks. I slid the ghost knife through the Plexi, cutting out a section that was eight feet by five feet. It fell across the rocks.
I lowered myself out the hole and dropped onto the plastic. It bowed under my weight but didn’t snap. I scrambled across it and out onto the rocks.
Hammer was a good thirty yards ahead of me. He seemed to be heading southeast, although I couldn’t imagine where he was running. The town was to the northeast; if he wanted help or protection from the people of Hammer Bay, he was headed the wrong way. As far as I could tell, the only thing to the southeast was forest and mountain.
I kept after him, my ghost knife between my teeth, silver knife in my pocket, and the Uzi banging against my knee as I leaped from rock to rock. I considered dumping the gun. It had already proven less than useful, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I needed all the weapons I could get.
Annalise had told me not to go after Hammer by myself. She had said he was too much for me. She was probably right. But I had just touched her burned face. I couldn’t let that go. I couldn’t run away.
I focused on the rocks, trying to increase my speed to shut off my thoughts. Now wasn’t the time to think about my boss. Now was the time to figure out what Charles Hammer had become, where his silver wire led, and how hard I was going to kill him.
I looked up from the rocks I’d been navigating. Hammer had vanished. Cursing furiously, I tried to rush toward the spot where I’d seen him last. I hoped he had entered a cave or fallen down a well. If he had turned invisible or something, I really was out of my league, and I was headed in the wrong direction.
But I kept going forward, hopping from rock to rock, occasionally looking up to see if he had reappeared from behind some low hill of stones.
I jumped over a rock and stumbled across a flat pile of stones. It was a collapsed wall, and I could see a piece of gray, pitted wooden furniture jutting out from behind the rocks. Beside it was a small pile of broken crockery. I was standing on the collapsed castle.
I hopped the last few rocks to the spot where Hammer had vanished. Nothing. I couldn’t see a thing there, except for a strip of faded red cloth and a smashed grandfather clock that had spent decades exposed to the weather. I looked all around. If he had turned invisible, he could come right up behind me and burn me to a cinder before I even knew he was there.
I noticed an open spot between two of the rocks. I leaped toward it.
And there it was. I was standing at the top of a stone stairwell that led down into the earth.
I leaped onto the stairs and started down. After about ten feet, the smooth gray stone walls became jagged cave. It quickly became very dark, and I didn’t have any sort of light. Again I was reminded of Annalise’s warning, and again I shut it out. She had just saved my life. I wasn’t going to let this guy go.
I slowed a bit. The light became more dim. I could still see, but not well. How much farther?
I reached the bottom of the stairs. There were two tunnels, one off to my left, another to the right. I listened for the sound of Hammer’s footsteps, but I couldn’t hear anything except the ocean.
Damn. Which way? One tunnel went almost directly south, the other went west-northwest. The latter led toward a section of the collapsed building; the former led away from it. There were good reasons for choosing either.
I noticed a glimmer on the wall. It was the silver wire. It ran just below the ceiling and vanished into the darkness of the northwest tunnel. I reached up and ran my fingers over it, feeling the rusted U of iron that held it in place against the stone.
I followed it. As I moved into the darkness, I put the ghost knife into my pocket and slung the gun over my back. I trailed my left hand along the wire, making sure that it didn’t turn down some unseen tunnel or vanish into a rock wall. I held my right hand in front of me and stumbled down the cave.
The floor was about as flat and smooth as a path in the forest, which was better than I expected. I wasn’t sure if it was man-made or not. I had no way to know; I was just grateful that I didn’t have to climb over jagged rocks in the dark.
The ground sloped upward, then turned downward again. Before I went below the edge of the slope, I turned around and looked at the entrance to the tunnel behind me. The golden sunlight of the afternoon still glowed there. I turned around and went down into the dark.
Moving through that tunnel was slow work. It annoyed me that I couldn’t hear anything but ocean sounds echoing off the stone. I wanted to hear footsteps or the sounds of Hammer cursing as he bumped his head in the dark. I wanted evidence that I was on the right path.
I followed the tunnel as it curved to the right, then to the left, and sloped down. I thought I might be somewhere under the house, but it was pointless to try to map my progress. I just kept my hand on the wire and continued.
I suddenly stepped in hot water. I yelped in fear and jumped backward, striking my head against something. I listened carefully. The ocean sounds were very loud.
I stepped forward. The water sloshed over my shoe and retreated, then washed up again. This was the ocean. The waves were washing back and forth along the tunnel. I waded into it for a couple of steps, getting wet up to my knees. Why was the water so hot? Maybe there was some sort of volcano nearby.
I waded out farther. The water was hot, but it wasn’t scalding. I told myself that some people spend a lot of money to submerge themselves in swirling hot water. The tunnel angled down and I quickly reached the point where it went under the water.
Damn. Had Hammer really gone this way? I didn’t want to drown down here in the dark, but this was where the silver wire led. I also hated the idea of letting Hammer go because I didn’t have the nerve to follow him. I took a deep breath, then another, then I ducked my head under the water and pulled myself along the rocks through the tunnel.
I didn’t open my eyes. What was the point when I couldn’t see anything out of the water, either? But I remembered all those little gray worms. I imagined them all around, trying to wriggle under my skin.
I tried to clear my mind. Too much imagination was not in my best interests right now. I kept moving, pulling myself along the bottom of the tunnel. My chest grew tight. If I didn’t find air, I was going to have to turn around very soon.
No. I was not going to turn around. I was going to reach the far side or I was going to drown here and rot. If Charles Hammer came this way, so could I.
Unless Hammer had magic that let him see in the dark and breathe underwater. Or unless he took the south tunnel, because this one had been blocked by the collapsing castle.
I didn’t want to think about that, because it was already too late to turn back.
My lungs were burning. I held on even though I knew it was too late. I had gone too far. I had gambled and lost.
I reached for the next rock, but it wasn’t there. I panicked, letting air bubble out of my mouth. Then I found a handhold a little farther away.
The cave was sloping upward again. I pulled myself along the rocks, praying that I wouldn’t slam my head against a stone and drown myself.
I broke the surface and took a gulp of stale, heavy air. It stank of salt and steam, and I didn’t get enough oxygen out of it. I clung to the rocks, desperately sucking in air.
After a minute or so, my heart stopped racing and the spots stopped dancing in front of my eyes. The air was close here, but it wasn’t going to kill me.
And I saw a light. There was a very faint light coming from somewhere above me.
I laughed aloud. Light. Just seeing it up there gave me strength.
The cave was vertical here. I grabbed the nearest rock and began to climb. The rocks were wet and slick, but I moved slowly and steadily toward the light.
Partway up, I caught the Uzi strap on a rock. I had a sudden chill thinking about what would have happened if it had caught while I was under the water.
I reached the top of the wall and crawled over the lip. Ahead, I could see the bend in the cave. Light was coming from somewhere around that bend, and I crawled to it. The air was fresher here, but it was also thick with steam. I stood. The roof was too low for me, but I hunched along, going farther and farther upslope. There, against the wall and spattered with mud, was the tarnished silver wire.
I followed the bend in the tunnel, checking my pockets for the ghost knife and the silver knife. They were both there. I tilted the Uzi this way and that, draining as much of the water out of it as I could.
The tunnel exit was narrow. I peered through it. Below me was a broad cavern made of volcanic rock. A thin stream of water ebbing back and forth along the far wall and clouds of steam billowed against the roof, just above my head. The whole place was lit by a bright, flickering source of light from somewhere to the left.
I squeezed through the opening into the cavern. Charles Hammer was not in sight. There was a second cavern to the left. Maybe he had already gone toward the source of the firelight.
Beside me a path ran along the upper edge of the cavern, but there didn’t seem to be any way down except by free climbing the cavern wall or flying. I wasn’t about to do either.
At that moment, I heard a pained grunt echo against the rocks. I stepped back into the narrow opening behind me. Charles Hammer climbed through a small opening in the far right wall of the cavern, then ran along a wooden walkway. He went straight for the second cavern on the left.
The bastard had taken the other path. He must have gone the long way around because he thought the way I went was impassable.
It was too far to shoot accurately with a submachine gun, even if I thought it would do some good. And he was definitely too far for me to throw the ghost knife.
I started along the high ledge, trying my best to match his pace. He was quick though, and the ledge was slick and precarious. Even with the shortcut I had taken, he was still ahead of me.
My biggest advantage was that he hadn’t seen me yet. I lifted the gun and rushed ahead. Hammer reached the opening into the second cavern.
I came to the end of the path. Below me was a long flight of stone stairs chiseled into the wall. I started down. I could hear Hammer’s sneakers thumping against the wooden boards.
After about fifteen feet, I came to a break in the wall. It was a little window into the second cavern. I looked through.
I saw it.
Not very long ago I used a stolen spell to reveal the predators that move through the Empty Spaces, searching for worlds full of life like our own. They were strange creatures made of stone or color or motion—terrifyingly alien creatures living in a terrifyingly alien environment. What I saw through that opening in the cavern wall gave me chills. I was looking down at one of those predators.
It was a huge wheel of fire, maybe 150 feet tall and partially submerged in a pool of ocean water. Steam billowed up around it, filling the cavern and dripping down the walls.
Charles Hammer approached the creature. From within the wheel, a huge flaming eye opened up and looked down at him.
I ducked down below the opening and held my breath. Goose bumps ran up and down my whole body. It was alive. The wheel of fire was alive and it was here, on Earth. I peeked through the opening again and saw what I’d expected to see—a thick circle of shining silver surrounded it. The silver was inscribed with sigils, and it was untarnished. From where I stood, it looked clean and new. I noticed the silver wire running through the opening, down the cavern wall, and toward the silver ring. By squinting, I could see where it connected. I jerked my hand away from the wire. What if the wheel could sense me touching it, the way a spider could sense movement on its web?
Christ, what was I supposed to do about this? I slid to the steps, ducking down out of sight. This was the source of Hammer’s power, and I was sure it had been here for decades.
I took out my ghost knife and held it up. It was just a piece of laminated paper. What good would it be against that massive wheel of fire? The silver knife wouldn’t be much better. And that assumed that I had the nerve to cross the silver ring that held it in place. What if attacking it also set if free?
Annalise was right. I was completely out of my league.
They love to be summoned, but they hate to be held in place. I peeked through the opening again. I couldn’t see any sign of anger in that massive eye. I couldn’t see any malevolence, just a tremendous power and tremendous otherness.
Charles Hammer stood before the ring, his arms raised above his head. He was shouting to it, imploring it the way a man might plead with a cruel god, but the echoes in the cavern garbled his words so thoroughly that I couldn’t understand them.
I felt a sudden spasm in the iron gate on my chest, the most powerful one yet. I could feel waves of power flowing out of the wheel of fire, pressing hard against me.
On the cavern floor, Hammer had fallen to the wooden walkway. He writhed in agony, clutching at the same spot on his back where Cynthia had her iron gate. Then, suddenly, he relaxed, rolled onto his knees, and pressed his forehead against the boards. I might have thought he was praying if he hadn’t been shuddering with gasps and sobs.
Something began to rain down from the ceiling, dropping through the steam and landing around Hammer. At first, I thought the roof was caving in, but the objects were small and the shower ended quickly.
Hammer looked around him as the fallen objects began to move, then he lifted his arms in helpless misery.
I realized what the falling objects were. Another kid had burned to death, and these were the gray worms created by the fire.
The worms scuttled across the uneven stone floor toward the far side of the cavern. I craned my neck and looked at the spot where they were heading.
There, I saw a second wheel lying on its side.
This one was not made of fire. It was simply a mass of wriggling worms in the shape of a wheel. It was much smaller than the burning wheel, and it was not surrounded by a silver ring. The worms crawled and wriggled in a clockwise direction, giving the impression that the wheel was slowly turning.
It was a child. The wheel of fire was using the bodies of the children of Hammer Bay to create a second wheel, one not held in place by a magical binding.
Hammer turned back to the burning wheel, pleading with it some more. The fiery eye did not react, did not seem angry. It just stared at him implacably.
There was no way those worms were ever, ever going to be turned back into human children.
Hammer kicked at a section of wood, flipping it over. Underneath was another silver hoop, very much like the one in his tower. He stepped into it.
My iron gate flared white hot. The world went dark.
I woke up slowly. I don’t know how long I had lain there on the stone steps, but I hadn’t soiled my shorts, and I wasn’t dying of thirst. It couldn’t have been longer than a couple hours, although it might have been only a few seconds. I jumped up and looked through the opening in the wall.
Hammer was out of the hoop, crawling across the rocky floor of the cavern toward the baby wheel. Gray worms clung to his clothes and hair as he laboriously scuttled from one jagged rock to the next. He moved dreamily, as though he was sleepwalking.
He reached the edge of a long slab beside the smaller wheel. Now that he was next to it, I had some sense of its scale. It was at least forty feet in diameter.
Hammer plucked the worms off of his clothes and hair and tossed them onto the wheel. Then he stood among the rocks and lifted his head as though taking a deep breath.
He was about to breathe fire onto the baby wheel. He was about to ignite it.
The Uzi was in my hand before I realized what I was doing. It didn’t matter anymore that I was too far away. I had to try something. I couldn’t let a living wheel of fire get loose on the world, and I had no other way to stop him.
I fired a short burst that chipped the rocks twenty feet short of where Hammer was. I adjusted my aim and tried again. This time I hit the small wheel itself, to no apparent effect.
I felt the monstrous wheel turn its attention to me. Waves of power washed over me. My iron gate burned and throbbed. I didn’t dare look at the predator. I didn’t have the guts.
A jet of fire erupted from Charles Hammer’s mouth and sprayed over the baby wheel.
I unloaded on him. Bullets spattered against the slab he was standing on, and miraculously, one struck his ankle.
His foot flopped inward like a broken chicken neck, and he fell hard, sliding down among the rocks. The jet of fire from his mouth roared upward toward the ceiling, igniting nothing.
Fires sputtered along the baby wheel, but they quickly died out. Hammer was going to have to try again. I saw him clutching at his throat.
I threw the empty gun away and sprinted down the steps. I had taken out Carol the receptionist by venting the flames as she was breathing them. Maybe I could do the same to Hammer, or maybe I could stab him with the letter opener in my pocket. Either way, I needed to be closer to him to do it.
I leaped down the steps at breakneck speed, ghost knife in hand, my bloody calf aching. If I fell, if I didn’t stop him in time, I’d be dead, and so would a lot of other people. I tried to avoid a fall.
At the bottom of the stairs I leapt across a fissure onto the wooden walkway. It broke underneath me. My foot slid down the side of a rock and jammed painfully between two stones. The broken plank flew upward and wedged itself against the inside of my thigh. Nothing was broken or sprained, but by the time I freed myself from the mess, Hammer had regained the lip of the slab. His ankle and throat looked completely healed.
He was fifty feet away, too far for me to throw the ghost knife. I’d failed.
He took a deep breath.
An idea came to me. If I could call the ghost knife toward me, maybe I could control it in other ways, too.
I looked down at the spell in my hand and imagined it going through Charles Hammer’s throat.
A jet of flame shot from Hammer’s mouth.
I glared at the tattered spell in my hand and willed it to move.
It shot from my palm and zipped across the cavern for Charles Hammer’s back.
Hammer turned his head back and forth, playing the fire over the baby wheel. Spurts of flame began to shoot up from the wriggling worms. Hammer turned far enough so that part of his face was visible, and I saw his agony.
The ghost knife struck the back of his neck. A jet of flame burst out of the cut like steam escaping a ruptured pipe. Flames engulfed his head, and the jet of fire lost pressure, falling short of the baby wheel. It hadn’t ignited.
His whole head burning, Hammer fell backward. He did not scream, although I imagined he very much wanted to.
I sprinted along the causeway. The huge wheel stared down at me. As I ran past the silver wire, the pain in my iron gate grew. It was reaching out to me, trying to destroy me. Only Annalise’s spell held it at bay.
I leaped off the walkway and started bounding across the rocks. The pain eased as I put some distance between the silver wire and me. I reached the slab where Hammer had been standing.
He was lying on his back, wedged between two stones. As I watched, his skin turned from scorched and blackened to pink and healthy. I thought how much I wished Annalise could do the same, and I hated him all the more.
“Oh, God,” he gasped, as though he’d been holding his breath. “No more.”
“What a fantastic idea,” I said. I slid down the slab of stone and landed on his chest with both knees. I pulled the silver letter opener from my pocket.
“No!” Hammer screamed. He struggled, his arms flailing and batting at me, his legs scrabbling against the stones. I grabbed his arms and held them down.
His eyes rolled back in his head. He took a deep breath.
I jammed the silver blade under his chin into his brain.
He bucked twice. No jet of fire came out of him. He fell still and silent. He was dead.
I stood, leaving the letter opener in place. He didn’t heal and he didn’t wake up. I had guessed correctly. The wheel couldn’t exert its power over him while he had the silver inside him.
At least, I hoped it couldn’t. The silver ring that enclosed the wheel of fire was not enough to keep its immense power in check. I didn’t know how long the knife would hold him.
I could have turned him over and destroyed his iron gate but decided against it. What would that have accomplished except to allow the wheel to erase his memory?
I looked up at it. I felt very small beside that terrible creature.
“Can you understand me?” I said. Don’t talk to the targets, Annalise had told me, but I couldn’t resist. “Can you understand? Can you see the future? Can you control it?”
/Yes./
It was not a sound, it was a pressure against my iron gate and my mind at the same time. I felt sick and small, like an ant who sees a boot moving above him.
“Can you make me do what you want, the way you controlled all those parents and toy shoppers?”
There was no answer this time. I took that as a no.
I walked across the rocks toward the hoop Hammer had stood in. It was connected to the main ring by a second silver wire.
“What do I have to do to get you to control the future for me? Do I have to be inside the silver hoop?”
/Yes./
“Well, then,” I said, “that’s some sad luck for you, you great big bitch.”
I held up my hand. My ghost knife flew into it like a bird returning to its nest. I bent down and cut the silver wire that connected the wheel’s binding circle to the hoop, then I cut the other wire that led through the tunnel to the tower. I didn’t see any more wires.
Immediately, the pressure against my iron gate eased. I had isolated the wheel, partially reducing the power it could bring to bear on the world outside its silver ring. Hopefully, with the wire cut and the silver blade wedged in Hammer’s body, the predator wouldn’t be able to heal him again.
I climbed back over the rocks to the baby wheel. Tiny worms wriggled sluggishly in a circle. It was not ready to be born. Maybe our attack on Charles Hammer had rushed the birth process, forcing the wheel to turn the spirit fire on it before it was ready. It didn’t matter now.
I held out the ghost knife, letting the crawling worms cut themselves on the edge of the spell. The worms broke apart, falling to the stones like windblown ash. I yanked my hand away from the tiny gouts of flame that erupted. Thankfully, the fire did not spread.
I felt a great, mournful wail wash through me. It was not something I could hear, but it seemed to fill me nonetheless. I was murdering the wheel’s unborn child, and it couldn’t do anything but watch.
It took a while to finish the job. There were thousands of worms, but I could kill four or five with a quick swipe of my arm. I could have struck more, but I didn’t want to throw my spell in case the wheel could catch it somehow, and I didn’t want to let the little worms touch my skin.
I felt the predator behind me trying to exert its will over me. It didn’t work. Cutting the wires had limited the amount of power it could use outside the ring. Still, the iron gate on my chest throbbed and ached.
The baby wheel shrank as I killed it. Eventually, it was reduced to the point that the inner hole vanished and it became a disk. When that happened, the remaining worms fell apart and died on the stones around me.
I was hungry. I was thirsty. I wanted to get the hell away from Hammer Bay. I didn’t know how far I would have to drive before the sigil on my chest stopped throbbing, but I was willing to gas up and find out.
The wheel of fire looming above me really was out of my league. I didn’t even want to look at it. I’d collect Charles Hammer’s spell book, if I could find it, and let a peer in the society figure out what to do about the wheel. Someone needed to destroy it, but that someone wasn’t going to be me.
I climbed over the rocks toward the wooden walkway.
Charles Hammer was gone.
I cursed and turned toward the hoop. He wasn’t there, either. I’d already broken the connection between the hoop and the wheel of fire.
I scanned the entire cave. He wasn’t anywhere nearby.
I hopped to the walkway, trying to pretend the wheel of fire was not looming above me, watching my every move, and sprinted toward the outer cavern. I didn’t know how long ago Hammer had come to and fled, but I expected him to leave by the same long tunnel. I climbed up the stone stairs. I was going for the shortcut again.
The trip back seemed surprisingly quick. Maybe it was because I was so focused on chasing Hammer, or maybe it was because I knew what lay ahead, but in no time at all I was climbing back into daylight.
There was a tiny drop of blood on the top step. I didn’t need to look for a second. I didn’t need a blood trail to track him. He would be at the house or at the cars. Either he was collecting his things or he’d had gotten them already and was running.
I leaped over the rocks toward the house, angling for the asphalt parking lot and garage on the eastern side. I didn’t see any lights or movement through the house windows. That was bad. If he was already gone, I was never going to catch him. I didn’t know anyone willing to hand me leads on him, I didn’t have any idea what other properties he owned, and I didn’t have any damn money. Once the tank of gas in the van ran out, I was stranded.
If Hammer managed to get to an airport, I was never going to catch him later. Maybe someone in the society could, but I had no way of contacting them. It was on me or no one.
I finally reached the asphalt parking lot and climbed up onto the flat ground.
There was a tiny drop of blood on the ground beside the garage. The van was still parked in the mouth of the driveway. Hammer hadn’t driven out. I went past the garage and raced to the house.
The smell of burned flesh hit me hard. I held the ghost knife close to my chest as I crept through the house. Nothing seemed to be changed as far as I could tell. I moved through the rooms, past the piles of bones, up the stairs, and across the causeway.
I heard nothing. I didn’t see any movement.
I stepped onto the landing. The wooden stairs spiraled above me. There was another drop of blood on the first step.
He’d come this way, obviously. Unless the blood was mine. Was he still up there with Annalise’s corpse?
I heard soft fabric rustling. It was my only warning. I threw myself sideways.
Bullets streamed through the doorway. Hammer had come up behind me and fired a good long volley at me. I crouched on the stairs, hearing the shots ricochet inside the cylindrical tower. I covered my face with my tattooed forearms and waited. A ricochet tugged at the sleeve of my shirt, but that was as close as he got.
Finally, the shots finished. I knew he had more guns out there if he had the stomach to rummage through the bodies for them. If he had the nerve, he could charge in here and put a nasty end to me.
“You bastard!” he shouted, his voice high and desperate. “You can’t kill me, and if I see you again, I’m going to burn you alive. I can still feel the power of the Great Wheel inside me. It’s still inside me and you can’t take it away!”
I moaned. “Call an ambulance,” I said, trying to sound wounded and helpless. I held the ghost knife ready. “Please.” Maybe, if I could lure him closer …
“Hah! Fuck you!”
I heard his footsteps as he ran away. I heard bones clacking. Then he was gone.
I peeked into the causeway. Nothing. I ran into the house. Bones had been scattered around the hall. The front door was standing open. I ran toward it.
Hammer was sprinting across the asphalt, holding a book in his left hand and a set of keys in his right. An Uzi hung on his back, bouncing around near his kidneys. In a just world, the gun would have gone off, blowing out his midsection and the family jewels, ending the line. It didn’t happen. He ran around the van, leaping onto the rocks to go around it.
Keys. Dammit, that’s why the bones were spread around the hall. He must have taken a set of keys from one of the guards.
That’s when I remembered the three Crown Victorias parked on the street.
I ran back into the house, kicked the bones aside, and grabbed two of the Uzis. What ever Hammer had, I wanted double. I looped both of their straps around my neck. Offering a silent apology to the unburied dead, I ran out of the house, climbed into the van, and started it up.
It took a moment to turn the van around in the parking lot, then I raced up the driveway and fishtailed across the gravel road, wishing I had more acceleration. A vehicle that didn’t handle like a refrigerator box would have been nice, too.
I swerved out onto the street just as one of the Crown Vics screeched out of its parking space and took off down the main road. I stomped on the accelerator, hoping to T-bone it and trap Hammer inside, but it had already passed me. I caught a quick glimpse of him behind the wheel, his eyes wild and his neck covered with gleaming red blood.
My heart sank as I watched the vehicle accelerate down the block. There was no way I could keep up with him. Still, I pulled the shoulder harness over me and clicked it into place. I was going to ram him, if I got the chance.
A soccer ball bounced out from between two cars, and Hammer slammed on the brakes. He slowly drove around it, then sped up toward the corner. I roared after him and chased him through Hammer Bay. He crept through stop signs and red lights, blaring his horn, screeching to a halt when he came too close to another car. This was his town. He was not going to break anything in it—at least, not where anyone would see.
I managed to clip his taillight when he braked for a woman on a bicycle, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He raced past the supermarket, past the hospital, past the last biker bar at the edge of town, then he crested a hill and vanished onto the highway.
If I couldn’t keep up with him in town, I was never going to be able to follow him on the winding highway.
I rumbled up the crest in the hill. Hammer was pulling away. I picked up the Uzi with my left hand and leaned it out the window. I didn’t have any other choice now, and there were no innocent bystanders to worry about.
I fired on him, trying to keep my shots low, near the tires. My aim was crap and the gun bucked like crazy. His back windshield shattered, and he swerved as he ducked below the dash. I punched holes in the trunk, for what ever good that did.
The magazine ran dry. I was reaching for the second one when Hammer, still ducking below the dashboard, swerved across the center line. A pickup truck loaded with gardening equipment rounded the curve ahead, heading straight for him. The driver blared his horn.
The vehicles swerved away from each other. The pickup slid onto the shoulder of the road and rumbled through the gravel. Hammer overcorrected, angling across the road and over the shoulder. He hit the brakes too late and smashed into a tree.
The pickup driver slowed to a stop, and so did I. I saw Hammer’s air bag deflate back against the steering wheel. Hammer was hurt, but I knew he wasn’t out of commission. I tossed away the empty gun and climbed from the driver’s seat.
“Did you see what happened?” the pickup driver said, not really looking at me. “He swerved right into my lane!”
He rushed toward Hammer’s car, intent on helping him. Hammer shoved open his door and stumbled out of the car. He was holding the Uzi. The pickup driver stopped suddenly about ten feet away and said something like “Whoa, friend …”
Hammer pointed the weapon at me. I fired.
He blossomed with bullet holes and fell back against the car. He lay still. The driver fled back to his truck like a perfectly sensible person.
I rushed over to Hammer and took his gun away. The bullet wounds were already healing, but slowly. Without the silver wire, the connection between the man and the predator must have been faint.
Using the ghost knife, I sliced off his clothes. I found an iron gate on his shoulder, just where it had been on Cynthia and Cabot. I cut through it, letting the black steam and gray sparks arc into the air.
There was another sigil on his stomach. It was a circle with flames at the four cardinal points and a single eye at the center. This one didn’t look like a tattoo, though. It looked, and felt, like a tumor that had grown under his skin. I slashed the ghost knife through this one, too. There were no jets of steam or sparks, but Hammer’s bullet wounds stopped sealing over.
As an experiment, I slid the corner of the ghost knife through his wrist. His skin split apart as if I was using a scalpel. He was dead.
The pickup truck raced away. I climbed into the Crown Vic and found an old leather-bound journal. It fell open to a page that read “To Call and Bind a Great Wheel, Which Will Grant You Favorable Outcomes.”
On impulse, I pulled out Charlie Three’s wallet. I found five hundred-dollar bills and ten twenties. I took them all. This had been a valuable lesson for him.
I tucked the book under my arm and went back to the van.