“P ark’s at the camp,” Frank said. “It’s not far from where we saw Drake.”
I frowned. “I’m glad you were there to see Drake with us. Like a crazy Foster. Which is a lot more terrifying than I’d expected.” I shook my head. “Where is the base exactly?”
Frank dusted off the old gun case while we waited in the back parking lot for Sam. “They set up in one of the fields just past Fast Lane.”
“There aren’t any buildings in those fields,” I said, skirting a particularly sharp looking rock off to the edge of the parking lot.
“Sam’s here,” Foster shouted, gliding down from the top of the building to land on my shoulder. A moment later, the blinding headlights of one of the Pit’s SUVs cut through the darkness.
“Now I’m a deadbolt and I’m blind,” the being trapped in our door shouted.
We all studiously ignored the complaints pouring out of our friendly neighborhood deadbolt.
“Take the front,” I said, nodding to Frank. “These guys know you best.”
I opened the back door and hopped in, expecting to find Zola, but she wasn’t there. Foster took up his standard perch on the dashboard, closer to Sam.
“Where’s Zola?” I asked.
“She’s in the archives with Vik,” Sam said. “They’re still looking for more details on the dark-touched. At least that’s her excuse for asking for help.”
“Man,” Foster said, “If you can’t trust the intentions of an old necromancer, who can you trust?”
Sam held out her hand and gave Foster a tiny high-five while they both laughed, and cast quick glances back at me.
“You mind holding this?” Frank asked as he passed the old scabbard, which didn’t quite fit the sword, into the back seat.
“Not at all.”
I slid the sword part way out of the scabbard as Sam made a sharp turn and bounced us out onto the cobblestone street. As fast as Mike had worked to make the swords, they’d turned out beautifully. The addition of the shards of the stone dagger made the metal look something like Damascus steel—beautiful shades of color and waves of metal grains followed the addition from the tip of the sword to almost the center of the blade. I sheathed the sword and laid it on top of its brother.
The drive took us to the old roundabout—well, actually, the new roundabout—and sent us off past the field where we had faced Drake and the Green Man. This time we crossed under the railroad and the highway until we reached the road with Fast Lane, an antique car dealership. I’d be lying if I said I’d never visited before.
The orange glow of the sunset lit the horizon as we closed on the railroad tracks, cruising beneath the trestle.
“Something’s off,” I said.
The tornado sirens roared to life a moment later.
“It’s barely sprinkling.”
“It’s not for the tornado,” Foster said. “Don’t you remember? They’re using the tornado sirens as warning sirens.”
“Something’s attacking the city,” Sam said.
“Yeah,” Frank said as we crossed under the highway. He pointed toward the glowing ball that had nothing to do with a sunset.
I stared in horrible fascination at what I could now clearly tell was an enormous fire.
“That’s the camp,” Sam said. “Fucking hell, that’s the fucking camp.”
Something flashed in the distance, just on the other side of Fast Lane, revealing an outline of what I suspected had been a tent shortly before. Now it was fire and ruin. Sam floored the accelerator, and we hurtled toward the raging battle.
Soldiers and Fae sliced up from the river, closing on the camp in a half circle. Drake hovered above them, raining fire down on the unsuspecting soldiers. I wondered how many had died before they’d even realized they were under attack.
Beneath Drake, waters raged and boiled. We were a good quarter-mile from the Missouri River. The water shouldn’t have been there.
“The water witches are here,” I said.
Sam jerked the wheel to the left, and the SUV’s tires screamed as we veered toward Fast Lane, cruising past the worst of the carnage on the front line.
“They don’t have a chance,” Foster said. “Let me out. Let me out now.”
“Take one of the swords,” I said. “Just don’t cut yourself with it.”
Foster nodded.
Sam squealed the tires as we darted into the smoking ruin of the base. The burned-out guardhouse wasn’t empty. The charred flesh of its poor occupant dangled out the window. I didn’t need to raise my sight to see the freshly dead aura weaving around the soldier.
Sam slammed on the brakes, bringing us to a halt behind a row of soldiers who were managing to offer some resistance.
“Go,” I said, tossing one of the stone-dagger-forged swords into the air. Foster zipped out the window, bursting into his full-sized form as he wrapped his gauntleted hand around the hilt.
Sam and I pushed out the driver’s side while Frank popped out the passenger side, staying low to the ground as he joined us behind the SUV.
Frank slid one of the daggers out of the case and hooked it into his belt. I gave the other sword to Sam and turned to Frank. “Get the case to Park. Or whoever’s left in charge.” Something huge roared at the edge of the battle, and a glance showed me a Green Man lumbering toward a guardsman who was armed with a flamethrower. “What in the hell are they doing here?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Frank said. “Just help them.” He turned to Sam. “I love you.”
And he was gone. Sam bounced her right hand up and down, and I frowned at the bullets on her palm.
“What the hell are you going to do with those?” I asked. “We don’t have a gun that can fire them, and they’re not even loaded into brass yet.”
“I can throw them.”
I blinked at my sister. She probably could throw them at a fast-enough velocity to do some serious damage to a water witch. I nodded. “Get some of them to Casper!” I shouted as I rushed toward the nearest group of soldiers, incredibly thankful that I had brought both my backpack and the focus on my hip.
“Shit’s about to get a lot worse,” I said to the nearest soldier who wasn’t unloading an insane number of rounds down the field.
“You’re that fucker who knows what the fuck all these fucks are?” He released a string of about fifteen more fucks before I finally got him to shut up.
“Where’s Park? Where’s Casper? Are they still alive?”
“Beats the hell out of me,” he shouted back. He pulled out a grenade, and screamed, “Fire in the hole!”
I expected the detonation to be louder, but the sounds of gunfire and explosive incantations muffled everything around us. The grenade detonated, tearing a nearby fairy’s wings to pieces, and sending the owl knight to the ground.
I saw Frank at the other end of the soldiers, shouting at them about the daggers he was handing them. I caught the last thing he said before he ran off between two of the tents that weren’t on fire. “Save it for the ones you can see through. Stab them with it. It’s the only thing you can stop them with.”
One of the privates Frank had armed stepped in front of another who was frozen at the sight of the battle raging around him. He tossed a survival knife to the ground and slid Frank’s dagger awkwardly into the sheath at his hip before unleashing a hail of gunfire.
I had little doubt that soldier wasn’t as green as the petrified man behind him. If they’d seen action before, it hadn’t been anything like this. For God’s sake, how many commoners did see action like this? I was afraid the answer to that question would be vastly different in the near future.
Two fairies sprinted between a cluster of burning tents, and I didn’t think anyone had seen them coming. They were still small, closing fast when I jumped out in front of the soldiers and shouted, “Impadda !” One fairy dodged to his right, circumventing the shield as he exploded into his full-size form. The other crashed headfirst into the crackling dome of blue energy, crumbling to the ground with a satisfying crunch. He was still moving until the soldier beside me shot a round through his head, obliterating the upper half of the tiny body.
The second already had his sword embedded in a stunned-looking soldier. I shaped the shield on my left arm and backhanded the bastard in the head. His helmet sparked and bounced off the dying soldier as the fairy turned to look at me. The slight hesitation, the curiosity in his eyes at who or what could’ve struck him so forcefully without him noticing was all the delay I needed. My soulsword lit through the hilt as I slashed with my right hand at an upward angle, careful not to catch any of the soldiers around me in the arc of that deadly blade.
The Fae’s left shoulder and neck separated with little effort. The body collapsed to the ground, and both of the fairies’ disembodied screams drowned out the horrors raging across the rest of the battlefield.
I watched as the vibrant aura of the injured private faded from blues and reds before solidifying once more at the screams of one of his comrades. His eyes snapped open.
I stared into the shell-shocked face at his side and wanted to help. These were just kids. These were just kids losing their lives in someone else’s war. “Get ready. It’s not over. Stay behind me, and try your damnedest not to shoot me in the back.”
“Who are you?” someone said behind me.
“I’m just a shopkeeper. A weird shopkeeper. Who’s in charge?”
“He was,” a young female private said, indicating an injured captain on the ground beside her.
The captain tried to speak, and I thought I caught the name Stacy on his tongue before he passed out again.
I cursed under my breath. Perfect. So I could run to Sam, who probably didn’t need nearly as much help as these kids, or I could stay here and fight with them, and possibly get myself killed trying to help them. Super.