7

THOSE WHO WANT TO uSE YOu

Thunder cracked and rolled slowly across the city, though the air was dry and uncomfortably warm. Lightning flickered far to the northeast, away from the tall downtown buildings, over the suburb of Aurora. Jagged bolts electrified the clouds from within, revealing their dark bulk. The fleeting glimpses Salem caught in the clouds reminded him of monstrous faces, creatures, bodies writhing in agony before they faded away.

He ignored all that as he limped angrily across the flat gravel-covered roof. Gritting his teeth against the pounding pains in his leg, his ribs, and his skull, he leaned briefly against the throbbing metal bulk of a rooftop swamp cooler. It smelled of rust, mildew, and old machinery.

With a grunt, Salem pushed off of it and made his way to the waist-high concrete wall that ran along the front of the building. Here, three stories up, he had an unobstructed view across the street to Dru’s quaint little shop. Warm golden light spilled out of the scratched front windows, faintly bouncing off the glossy hand-painted sign that spelled out “The Crystal Connection” in obnoxiously elaborate script.

There was no movement inside the front of the shop. From this angle, he could see the ends of the rows of shelves packed full of crystals, old statues, jars of dried herbs, and other assorted sorcery components. But everyone was apparently in back, out of his line of sight.

Wincing, he leaned against the short wall so that he could take the weight off of his bad leg. And then he just watched. And waited. Fuming the whole time.

As much as he wanted to leave Dru and her entourage to stew in their own troubles, he couldn’t just wash his hands of the whole situation. There was too much at stake. And it wasn’t just that a rank amateur like Dru was now holding an artifact capable of destroying the entire world. It was mostly that Rane was caught up in all of this. And he couldn’t just leave her on her own. He would rather die.

He almost had, in fact. Several times, recently.

And the singular common denominator in all of those painful fias-coes was Dru. Every time she showed up in another hair-raising panic, it never took long for things to jump from bad to worse. Instead of taking the necessary time to observe, and study, and then formulate and execute a flawless strategy, he always found himself chasing after Dru and getting caught directly in the line of fire. Which was exactly the problem he was determined to avoid this time around.

Unfortunately, he didn’t heal as fast as Rane did. Or Greyson, for that matter, who drew his power from some infernal depths that no one really understood. And for some inexplicable reason, nobody had a problem with that. They all seemed to think Greyson was just an ordinary guy with a conveniently self-driving car. Never mind that Hellbringer was an evil speed demon literally summoned to Earth to destroy the world.

The fact that he was the only one bothered by this made his head feel like it was going to explode. The sky crashed and groaned, echoing his pain.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the old black Charger came rumbling down the street, headlights burning like the eyes of a predatory animal. It slowed down and crept past the front of the shop, as if the driver was peering in through the front windows. But as it passed beneath a streetlight, pale light fell across the driver’s seat, which was clearly empty.

Salem watched Hellbringer prowl down to the end of the block and turn right. The red slits of taillights disappeared around the corner, carrying the thudding sound of exhaust with it. A few minutes later, it reemerged at the other end of the block and repeated its route, crawling past the shop again.

So the car had learned a new trick, Salem thought. Was it patrolling like a loyal guard dog? Or circling like a hungry shark?

Would it turn against them sooner or later? Had it already? Was it leading darker forces straight to the apocalypse scroll?

No one else seemed to find Hellbringer suspicious. But Salem had seen too many sorcerous catastrophes over the years to let himself get lulled into a false sense of security.

He watched the sword-like silhouette of the car slice through the night, circling the shop. He had tried to warn Rane, but no. She insisted on remaining oblivious to the danger. The thought of her choosing to embrace Dru’s rose-tinted view of the world made him choke.

He tried to channel his anger in a more productive direction. His angry gaze bore into every shadow along the street, scrutinizing every movement. He watched a lone figure with a backpack and flip-flops scrape his way down the street and slump onto the graffiti-covered bus stop bench.

Salem’s fingers itched with unspent magic. He wanted the man with the backpack to start acting furtive and suspicious. He needed an excuse to do something. But a few minutes later, a tired-looking bus hissed and clanked to a stop, blocking his view. When it left again, the man was gone. The street was empty.

A tiny voice inside Salem told him that it wasn’t really Dru and Hellbringer that were making him mad. Rane had been acting differently lately. Ever since the night he had nearly died in that valley fighting Lucretia, the connection between them had changed.

She didn’t look at him the same way anymore. Once, she had been in awe of his magic. A certain spark had lit her up every time he cast a spell. But after the valley, she didn’t look up to him anymore. Now, she saw him as broken. Weak. Someone to be taken care of.

That had never happened before. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

And just lately, her habit of going for runs at night had taken her further and further away. Longer runs. And she had come back more flushed with excitement than tired. Like she couldn’t wait to get out again. That was new.

The same tiny voice inside him implied that maybe she’d met someone else.

But he squelched that thought instantly. Obliterated it from his mind. Because it was impossible. Her raw physical strength was a perfect complement to his powers of sorcery. Together, they made an unstoppable duo. Rane had always been drawn to him because of his sorcery. And no one else was more powerful. Who else could possibly compete with him?

No, she couldn’t have met someone else. There had to be another explanation.

Fuming, he watched Hellbringer prowl down the dark street again. The next time it came around, it paused in the midst of turning the corner, even though there was no other traffic on the road. The car just sat there at an angle, engine rumbling, facing his direction.

As if its headlights were watching him.

That was interesting.

Salem stared back, hard. He channeled all of his frustration, his pain, his cold fury into his stare. He knew from experience that his direct gaze unsettled most people. He liked to give them a glimpse of just how far he was willing to go to prove his point.

Which was always, inflexibly, all the way.

He stared down the possessed car, and it stared back. Challenging him. Studying him. Evaluating him. Perhaps trying to find his weaknesses.

His long fingers twitched at his sides. He knew that thing was evil, deep down inside. It had nearly killed Rane once, nearly crushed her against the wall of Greyson’s garage, with its sharp front end pressed tightly against her throat. Salem would never allow that to happen again. He would annihilate Hellbringer first.

Dru might have tamed it on the surface, but it was still a demon. It would still turn on them the moment they let down their guard.

He knew what he could do to the infernal thing. All he needed was an excuse.

Slowly, as if by their own volition, his hands rose above the waist-high wall. His fingers spread out wide, flexing. He could feel the hot sizzle of magic humming across his skin. Just waiting to be unleashed.

Abruptly, Hellbringer’s headlights clicked off. The flip-up covers closed, and the car backed away, slipping into the darkness around the corner. It didn’t come back.

Slowly, Salem breathed out, and all the aches and pains in his battered body returned. He sagged against the short wall. He desperately wished he could sit down, rest, at least for a little while. He was so damnably tired. He even wished he had another one of Opal’s curiously refreshing potions, even though they did taste like they had been used to decontaminate scuba gear.

He spied the empty bench three stories below, across the street. With a chop of his hand, he let loose a torrent of nearly invisible magic. The air shimmered around the bus stop, and the thick steel bolts popped off the concrete like bottle caps, one after another. Metal groaned as he ripped the bench from its moorings.

With a flick of his wrist, it tumbled skyward, as if sucked up into a tornado. He twirled his fingers and gently settled it onto the gravel-covered roof beside him, its back to the wall.

With a thankful sigh, he took a seat, one arm sprawled along the top of the wall. After a long, contented minute, he lifted his bad leg and propped it up in front of him. Much more comfortable that way. Looking out across the scattered lights of the city, he smiled for the first time he could remember.

Tonight was turning out to be not so terrible after all. He had forced the demon car to submit. He had discovered that he could walk without his cane if he had to. And now he had a cozy place to sit. Albeit one that stank of old cigarette smoke and rank body odor. But that didn’t matter. He had kept watch over Rane in much worse places.

This was ridiculous, he realized after a while, sitting up here all alone. On impulse, he took out his phone, intending to text Rane.

But then he thought again about the look she had in her eyes these days. Maybe she met someone else.

No. Impossible.

Still. His fingers hesitated over the screen. Agonized.

She would tell him he was being stupid. She would tell him to come down from the roof. Hang out with the rest of them. Get all cozy with the evil car.

He couldn’t do that. He needed someone clear-headed to watch his back. He needed an outside perspective. Another pair of eyes. He needed backup.

He scrolled through his admittedly short list of contacts until he found what he was looking for.

I need your help, he typed. But then he hesitated again. That sounded too needy. Needy wasn’t his thing.

He deleted the last few letters.

I need you.

Good enough. He sent it. And waited. And watched the street below. Hellbringer stayed hidden. Perhaps scared off. Perhaps plotting its next move.

He kept checking his phone, waiting for her answer. When none came, he idly wondered if she had misinterpreted his message as something more personal. There had always been that unspoken tension between them, but so far everything had stayed strictly professional. He intended to keep it that way, whether she knew it or not.

But she hadn’t spoken to him since she lost her powers. She had disappeared. Holed up somewhere. Refused to come out. That was an amateur move. Not like a professional at all. A professional always showed up when there was trouble, and dealt with it, no matter what.

Watching the street, he had plenty of time to think, and grudgingly had to admit that he had done the same thing. Holed up. It was a natural instinct for sorcerers, or anyone really. But now it was time to come out. Holing up was no longer an option, now that they were only one step away from doomsday. Now was the time for action.

His phone buzzed in his hand.

I can’t help you, her text read. I can’t help anyone.

A moment later, she added: I’m done.

He rolled his eyes at all of her drama. Ridiculous. Even he knew that she was far from done. There were always options. Some more unpleasant than others, perhaps. But options always existed.

His thumbs tapped out a quick message: What are you doing right now?

She didn’t answer. She probably wasn’t doing anything.

That’s what I thought, he texted. Get over to the shop girl’s place. Tout de suite. Help me keep watch for undead.

He kept one eye on the phone, one on the empty street below.

What’s in it for me? she texted.

He nodded to himself. Now he had her right where he wanted her. Because now that the door was open, even a crack, all he had to do was push it a little wider.

Do you want your powers back? he texted. And then he deliberately waited a long moment before he added: Because I can make that happen.

Lightning flashed again over the distant reaches of the city, but this time it was silent.

The phone buzzed with her reply. Yes.

He smiled with satisfaction. Finally, things were headed in the right direction again.