Somewhere along here was the turnoff to Booker Mountain. “Not well marked,” Seph's directions said. By now, it was raining harder.
After traveling a mile farther, he began to realize he must have missed the turnoff. He did a quick U-turn and drove back the way he'd come. Jason leaned forward, peering through the rain-smeared windshield.
He rounded a curve and found the way blocked by a huge tree that lay at an angle across the road. He slammed on the brakes, skidding sideways in the wet gravel. The BMW came to a stop with its passenger door inches from the tree.
Jason rested his head on the wheel, his heart thumping in his chest. A tree on the slope above must have lost hold in the saturated earth. It must've just happened, since the way had been clear moments before.
Shoving the driver's side door open, he climbed out into the rain on rubbery legs. If he wanted to go forward, he'd have to get the tree off the road. Wizardry was good for making people do what you wanted or for moving the more fluid ethers like water, air, and flame. He wasn't sure he knew a charm for moving giant trees.
Jason yanked the backpack from under the seat. Maybe there was something there that would help. Kneeling on the soggy ground, he sorted through the magical pieces he'd taken from the church. He had a dagger that would inflict a mortal wound (on a man, not a tree), talismans of protection that he was unsure how to use, an amulet that gave strength to the weary (maybe he could lift the tree off the road), and a scrying stone that blazed up oddly between his hands. Like a warning.
There was something else, something unfamiliar, a small, flat metal object. He held it up to the light. There was a faint marking on it, like a stylized etching of a spider. How did that get there?
He looked up just as the car exploded into flames.
He rolled backward to keep from being engulfed. Propping up on his elbows, he stared in disbelief. The car was a blazing inferno, hissing and spitting in the pouring rain.
Oh, God, he thought. Linda's going to kill me. His next thought was, I'm out of here.
As he struggled to his feet, something struck him full in the chest, just beneath the collarbone, hard enough to spin him half around. He clutched at his shirtfront, but could find no wound or missile, only an awful spreading cold and numbness.
“Damn!” someone said behind him. “I hope that didn't hit too close to the heart. The idea is to immobilize you. Not kill you.”
Jason swung around to face the speaker. It couldn't be. The blond, almost translucent hair, the pale blue eyes and colorless lips. The lopsided, arrogant smile he hadn't seen since the ill-fated conference at Second Sister.
“Barber!”
The smile grew wider. “For a minute, I didn't think you remembered me. But, hey, the friendships we make at school are the ones that last.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I followed you. Of course I didn't know you'd lead me to the crap hole of the universe.” Barber flipped his hand, indicating their general surroundings.
“What did you shoot me with?”
“It's a wizard graffe. A virtual dagger with an effect very much like spider venom. Renders the victim immobile, but leaves the mind clear and able to perceive pain. Great for interrogations.”
“What do you want?”
“To ask you some questions. But first we'll go someplace quiet where we won't be interrupted.”
The paralysis was spreading. Jason's limbs were growing heavy. It was getting difficult to push air through his lungs. “Questions about what?” he mumbled. Even his lips and tongue weren't obeying his commands.
“Questions about what you're doing down here. About what you stole from Ravens Ghyll and hid in the church. About the Dragonheart. We can start with what's in your backpack.” Barber extended his hand. “Hand it over.”
Backpack. Jason's body might be sluggish, but his mind was clear. Barber knew Jason had left town. He knew about the church. He knew there was something in his backpack.
Leesha.
A cold anger seized Jason. “You want this?” he shouted hoarsely. As he raised the backpack, he thrust his hand inside, closing it around the amulet. Gives strength to the bearer. He muttered a charm calling forth its power and felt welcome strength flood back into his body. Slinging the pack over his shoulder, he reached up with the other hand and gripped the dyrne sefa that hung around his neck. Speaking the familiar unnoticeable charm he'd learned from his mother, he thrust himself sideways.
He landed rolling in the sodden leaves, but was immediately up and running, slipping and sliding down the hill, the backpack slamming against his shoulder. Barber was a powerful wizard, outclassing Jason on his best day. Unnoticeable or not, it wouldn't be healthy to stay around.
Barber was totally pissed. He sent flames roaring down the hillside in Jason's wake, then charged downhill after him, shouting and swearing. “Idiot! Where the hell do you think you're going? Give yourself up, or you're going to lie on your back in the mud until you're ripped apart and eaten alive by wild animals.”
It was hard to understand with all the profanity mixed in, but it was something like that.
Jason staggered on. He had no intention of submitting to an interrogation of Warren Barber's devising. Being ripped apart by wild animals seemed appealing in comparison. Besides, he'd been played for a fool, and he would not, could not let them win.
Still, it was more than twenty miles back to town, and he had no idea how long the effects of the amulet would last. He knew Madison's house must be somewhere nearby, but he didn't want to lead Barber to her.
Realistically, he was dead.
At the bottom of the hill, Jason turned left and followed a wide creek through a ravine. Then he began climbing again. He climbed for a long time, following the stream, scrambling over rocks, splashing in and out of the water. Finally he left the creek and cut over a shoulder of the mountain. By then, he was stumbling, losing strength despite his tight grip on the amulet. He tried speaking the charm again, but this time there was no apparent effect.
He was completely disoriented. He had no idea which way it was to town, which way Madison's house might be. His only goal was to keep away from Barber.
That was easier said than done. Barber seemed to have an uncanny ability to stay with him. When Jason reached high ground and looked back, Barber was coming. Not following Jason's trail, exactly, but moving in the right direction, just the same. Sometimes cutting straight across ravines and streambeds. It was almost as if Jason were sending off some kind of homing signal.
Idiot.
He shrugged the backpack off his shoulders and half-sat, half-fell to the ground. Digging through the pocket, he retrieved the mysterious spider stone.
It must be a lodestone, placed there on purpose, probably by Leesha outside the church. All Barber had needed to do was follow the stone to track Jason to Coalton County and through the woods in the rain.
Shivering, teeth chattering, resisting the urge to lie down where he was and sink into oblivion, Jason gripped the low branches of a tree, dragged himself to his feet, and looked around.
He'd been following a high ridge. On one side of the ridge the ground fell away into deep forest shrouding a series of smaller hills. On the other he could see the tracing of a road that followed the creek bed. Behind him, he could hear Barber crashing violently through the brush.
Drawing his arm back, Jason threw the stone as far as he could out into the valley. Then he descended the ridge on the opposite side, heading for the road. Hopefully, Barber would follow the stone.
There remained the problem of the graffe. Jason couldn't go much further.
He could try to attract the attention of someone in a passing car. A car probably came by every day or two.
As if that would even do any good. They wouldn't have a clue. All they could do was watch him die.
He worked his way down the ridge in a kind of stumbling trot. His legs were no longer working reliably. The rain had slowed to a sprinkle, but rivulets of muddy water still flowed down the slope, making the footing treacherous.
His breathing was growing labored again. He was conscious of a creeping cold, an inability to control his movements. He blinked away a double image of the hillside. Finally, he overshot a small overhang, tumbled twenty feet, and ended with his feet in the ditch and his head and shoulders on the berm of the road.
He hurt. Barber was right—his ability to perceive pain was functioning just fine. He'd slammed his elbow when he landed, and wondered if his arm was broken. But he lacked the strength to turn his head to check for certain.
He had no idea how long he lay there before he heard a rumble and felt a faint vibration beneath him. Thunder, he thought. Then he realized it must be a car coming.
Idiot. He was unnoticeable. No one would see him lying by the side of the road, not even when his unnoticeable sun-bleached bones mingled with the scattered remnants of roadkill skeletons. He gripped the sefa and disabled the unnoticeable charm with his last bit of strength. Then he lay on his back, staring up at the sky, unable even to blink against the relentless drizzle. He had to really focus to remember to breathe.
He heard the wet, sucking sound of tires as the car approached. Was he far enough off the road? Would the car run him over? Was he close enough to be seen?
He felt the air stir as the car neared, felt the freezing spray as it swept by. Bitter disappointment. He heard a squeal of brakes and caught a whiff of hot rubber. Wild elation. A car door slammed, then footsteps crunched on gravel, and then a voice.
“Hey, you okay? What happened? Someone run you over and drive off?” And then, moments later, “Jason?”
It was Madison Moss.
Seconds later, her worried face appeared in his field of vision. It was bronzed a bit—she'd been out in the sun—and her voluminous hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She wore jeans and a plain white T-shirt—different from her bohemian mode of dress in Trinity.
No, he thought dazedly. This girl is not hanging with the bad guys. I don't believe it.
“It is you! What are you doing here? What happened? Is Seph with you?” It was a cascade of questions, erupting too fast for his failing mind to follow.