“They’re A.I.R.”
Tires squealed as our car jacked a swift left turn. Hallowed be thy name. Or was it “hollowed”? “How. Do. You. Know. That? For sure?”
“Call it a hunch,” he said dryly.
Breathe, Camille. Just breathe. In. Out. Slowly. Slowly. Okay, I could handle this. I wasn’t in the midst of a car chase. I was at the beach, a cool breeze billowing around me. Sun rays were soaking into my skin and saltwater was brushing against my toes.
Tires squealed again, ruining the fantasy. We executed a swift right turn and I was flung into the door.
Any more, and I’d throw up.
“There’s got to be a better way, Erik.”
“I’m open to suggestions.”
If only I had one. He hit a bump and my nausea intensified. Motion sickness—maybe. Another injection of pure fear—probably.
“Close your eyes,” he commanded.
“They are closed!”
In the next instant, I was lifted out of my seat. My head skimmed the roof. And I knew what had happened: we’d gone airborne. Erik whooped excitedly. I commanded my window to open, leaned over, and emptied out the contents of my stomach, jerking with the force of the action. My ribs ached and my back tightened even after I’d slumped back in my seat.
My cheeks heated with embarrassment. Oh. My. God. I’d just thrown up in front of Erik Troy. At least I hadn’t done it on the floorboards, so we didn’t have to smell it. Still. Could I be any more disgusting? No time to ponder that now. The car landed, and it landed hard. Boing. Thud. My throat constricted, cutting off my airway. A wave of dizziness swept through me.
Left, right, left, we turned. “You okay?” Erik asked.
I nodded, unable to speak.
“There’s a water bottle in the bag at your feet. Might help you calm down.”
A bag? I looked down and sure enough, there was a black vinyl bag. I bent and dug through it, finding a change of clothing, an oddly shaped pair of sunglasses, and yes, a bottle of water. Straightening, I chugged the contents, swishing my mouth out with every gulp.
“I think you’re wrong about them,” I said, forcing the words out. “What can it hurt to let me talk to them? It can’t make our situation any worse.” I hoped.
He snarled low in his throat.
I took that as a no. Dear Lord. Innocent schoolgirl one day, shot at, chased criminal the next. Don’t think like that. You’re not a criminal. Yes, things look bad, but after you explain the situation everything will be fine. “Please, Erik.”
“Have you listened to nothing I’ve said? They’ll shot first and ask questions later.”
Light-headed, I buried my face between my knees. We hit a curb and bounced again. “Maybe I prefer to be shot at than smashed around.”
“It’s going to be okay, Camille.”
I caught traces of uncertainty and guilt in his voice. “I know,” I offered, trying to comfort him. Silly girl.
“I think we’re going to have to ditch the car. Think you’ve got the strength to run?”
“Sure,” I replied, knowing I wouldn’t have to prove it. When he stopped, I was going to turn myself in.
“Good, ’cause running is the best chance we’ve got.”
A humorless laugh escaped me. “I’ve never made less than a B in school, I hardly ever break the rules, and I avoid conflict like it’s toxic waste. I made one mistake, just one, and this is what I get. I’ll never try to impress a boy again.”
“It’s gonna be okay,” he repeated more gently this time.
“Forget A.I.R. Shanel might never forgive me for losing her car.”
“You won’t have lost it. You’ll simply have to let it be impounded.”
Like that was any better. Maybe I’d have to tell my parents the truth after all. If I lied and got caught later, that would only increase my list of ever-growing sins. “That will draw Shanel into this mess. Which will eventually lead to meeee—” The word sputtered in my throat as we ground to an abrupt halt.
I sat up. Immediately I saw that a large brick wall blocked our frontward path. All three black sedans surrounded us in seconds, left, right, and behind.
Once again, we were pinned in.
“I guess you were right,” Erik muttered. He didn’t sound upset. “I should have found a better way.”
Only darkness and brick greeted us. And disaster. Yes, disaster. The cars flashed high beams of light directly on us, illuminating everything they touched.
I faced Erik. He might have sounded unconcerned, but his expression was tight, furious, and his brown eyes were sparkling. I could see the glint of pyre-guns pointing at us, and suddenly wasn’t so sure I wanted to turn myself in. “What should we do?”
His hands tightened on the wheel. “Like before, I’m open to suggestions.”
“Just—” What?
“Do you have a weapon?” he asked me.
Oh God. Weapon equaled blood and blood equaled pain. “No. And I don’t want one. A gunfight is not the way to end this.”
Erik scrubbed a hand down his face. “You’re right. If I was alone, I’d fight. With you here…”
With me here, he ran the risk of what? Hurting me? Oh God, oh God, oh God.
“Get out of the car,” a female voice suddenly echoed around us. “Both of you. Hands up and out.”
Erik didn’t move. Neither did I. My heart galloped in my chest, trying to beat its way through my ribs inch by inch. “Erik,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. I was so scared.
“Don’t look at me,” he said.
“Why?” I faced forward, but from the corner of my eye I watched as he moved his arms behind his back and withdrew a pyre-gun from the waist of his pants. Every ounce of moisture in my mouth dried, leaving only the taste of cotton and bile.
“I thought you didn’t want to fight,” I asked, the panicked words nearly inaudible.
“I don’t want to die, either.”
Die. I swallowed. If things ended badly, I could die a virgin; I would die a loser who’d supposedly dabbled in Onadyn. “Erik,” I said. “This is crazy. This is wrong on so many levels.”
He stared down at the weapon, as if he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do with it. Yellow beams of fire were projected from pyre-guns, scorching everything in their path. Human, nonhuman. Didn’t matter. Another little tidbit I’d picked up from my dad and television.