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Bullets whizzed overhead with a hiss that was audible, even over the tumult of the storm and the roar of the outboard. Multiple reports, the distinctive crack of supersonic rifle rounds.
“Anyone planning to do something about that?” Bones said. “You know, like maybe raise shields?”
Rose shrugged off the backpack and shoved it toward Kismet. “You’re the expert.”
Kismet shook his head, more a gesture of resignation than uncertainty and reached for it, but before he could take it, Rose snatched it back. “Crap! I forgot.”
“What?”
“We can’t use shields.”
Another volley split the air overhead, and then something thumped against one of the gunwales. Air erupted from a ragged hole in the buoyancy tube.
Bones scrambled forward and slapped one massive hand over the leak. “Check the lockers. Should be a repair kit in one of them.”
“Idiots,” Jade raged as she crawled forward to check the bow locker. “If they sink us, they’ll lose the elementals.”
“If it’s Prometheus,” Kismet countered, “they won’t care. They have the resources to recover them.”
Determining the exact identity of their attackers was a secondary priority for Maddock. Every passing second was bringing them closer to the shooters.
He cranked the wheel, cutting hard to port, carving a tight 180° turn. The lights of Plymouth were swept away, replaced by the scattered lights of rural Cornwall. In the distance, perhaps two miles away, lay a single shining beacon, the Plymouth Breakwater Lighthouse, marking the west end of the nearly mile-long manmade barrier that guarded the entrance to the bay. Maddock pointed the bow toward it and opened up the throttle.
He glanced over at Rose, who was now hugging the backpack to her chest protectively. “Rose, why can’t we use the orb?”
“I just remembered something from the Dodge Dalton books. The shield is some kind of electrical field. If it comes into contact with water—”
Maddock understood. “We’re toast.”
“Pretty much.”
Bones glanced over his shoulder and shook his head. “What’s the point of having magic gizmos if they never work when you need them to.”
“I don’t think it’s real magic,” Rose said. “Just a technology we don’t understand.”
“Well it’s pretty freaking useless either way.”
“Will a first aid kit work?” Jade asked, holding up a white plastic box embossed with a big red cross.
“Is there tape in it?”
Jade popped the case open and held up a fat white donut-shaped roll of adhesive cloth. “Will this do?”
Bones shrugged and reached out with his free hand to take it.
The dark, unlit mass of Drake’s Island hove into view directly ahead. Right back where we started, Maddock thought as he veered away from the peer angling left to hug the eastern edge of the island. As it slid by, he wondered if Aliyah and her minions were watching from the shadowy cliffs.
A glance back showed the light of the two boats hunting them, maybe two hundred yards back, matching their pace. They were easily within rifle range, and while the turbulent seas would challenge even an experienced shooter, fickle Lady Luck could easily turn her back on them.
His intent was to follow the curve of the island toward the south shore, putting the landmass between them and the hunters, but the increasingly rough seas forced him to abandon that idea. The only way to survive the incoming waves was by taking them head on.
And how long can I keep that up? he wondered.
Bones uttered a harsh curse and flung the roll of white first aid tape out into the sea. Maddock didn’t need to ask what the problem was; the surface of the buoyancy tube was too wet for the tape to adhere. The inflatable boat wouldn’t sink, not right away, but as the tube continued to deflate, the hull would ride lower and the sea would find its way in.
“Not long enough,” he muttered. It was time for a new plan. And a new boat.