I took a deep breath, suddenly losing the wherewithal to respond. Instead, I focused on my fingers, mindlessly tapping them against my knees. If a genie in a lamp could have granted me one wish, I would have wished that we'd already arrived wherever it was that we were going, just so I could take my leave of the infuriating Loki.
Luckily, I was spared the need to respond when the lights on the dash suddenly started spazzing out, glowing incredibly bright and then dimming away to nothing. They flashed five or six times intermittently before dying altogether.
“What the hell?” I started, alternately looking from the dashboard to Knight's surprised expression.
“Weird,” Knight responded as the humming from the engine suddenly stopped. I half wondered if the car was even still running.
"Did it stall?"
"Shhh," he answered, holding out his hand just in case I didn’t understand English. Before I could tell him where to stick it, the Denali slowed to coasting, losing all of its momentum as the seconds ticked by. Knight turned the key in the ignition, which resulted in only a clicking sound. Apparently, the thing was dead. He pumped the brakes a few times until we came to a stop, then put the car in park and tried to start it up again. But, as with his former attempts, it clicked a few times and … nothing.
“You’re kidding,” I started as Knight pulled the keys out of the ignition and sighed. Then he relaxed back into his seat. I could read the question of what do we do next? playing over his face. "Did we run out of gas?"
He frowned at me. "Do you really think I'm such an idiot that I'd run out of gas in BFE?"
"I won't answer that question," I answered as my mind raced with what course of action should be taken next. "Where's your cell phone?" I asked, realizing mine was still in my room on base. Since our business was labeled "top secret," all cell phones that weren't Resistance-issued were banned.
Knight fished inside his pocket and produced his cell phone (which was Resistance-issued), but after he tapped it and held it up to the windshield, I realized he didn't have any cell service.
"No bars," he said grumpily.
"Jumper cables?"
He shook his head. "It's not the battery. I think it's the starter."
"Great, this is just freaking great."
Hopefully, no one was planning on traveling this road because it wasn’t like we could pull to the side of it. There was no side. Instead, we were stopped dead in the middle of the road. On either side of us lay the uneven terrain of large rocks and dirt. The moon and stars twinkled down at us through the sunroof, almost as if to say, “Hey, at least it’s a nice night.”
“Unbelievable,” I muttered while unbuckling my seatbelt, suddenly feeling the need for some fresh air. Who knew how long we'd be stuck out here? Probably all night, if I had to guess. It wasn't like we were on a well-traveled road and neither of us had any way to call AAA for a jump-start, or failing that, a tow. Nope, we were shit outta luck and then some.
“You’re magical; you can fix it,” Knight said, glancing over at me with a hopeful smile.
I frowned, feeling more irritated because there was no way I could fix it. “In order to fix it, I need to know what the problem is, and I know zip about cars.”
That was one of the limitations of fairy magic—although I could heal myself, defend myself, and sometimes even make things out of thin air, if the task involved required background knowledge of the subject, it made things tougher. And to say I knew nothing about engines was an understatement.
“All you can do is try, right?” Knight asked, raising his brows in question. "Besides, I can guide you. Together, we should be able to fix it."
"What a shame that you aren't magical," I said, frowning. In this instance, it was a real shame for both of us.
"I seem to have other tricks up my sleeves," he said, but there was no humor or playfulness in his tone. No, he seemed worried—I could see it in his eyes. And wondering why he was worried started to worry me. Why? Because there were only a handful of times that I'd witnessed anxiety in the Loki and it wasn’t something that filled me with confidence.
I didn’t say anything more but took a deep breath, guessing he was right. Maybe together, we could figure out how to start the engine again. I leaned over to open my door, assuming we should look under the hood to better understand what the problem might be. When I tried to open my door, it was locked. “Um, in order for me to fix the problem, you need to let me out,” I said, tugging on the door handle, as proof it was locked.
Knight wore a puzzled look on his face and seemed to move in slow motion as he hit the unlock button. When I retried the handle, it still wouldn't open. His frown deepening, he tried his door, but it, too, was locked.
“What the hell is going on?” I started. Watching Knight shake his head, I got a sinking feeling deep inside my gut.
“Use your magic to break the glass,” he said in a serious tone. "Now."
I didn’t wait for him to explain why. The look on his face told me something wasn’t right, but just what the "something" was was the scariest part. Instead, I shook my hand until I felt a mound of fairy dust slipping through my fingers. Facing the window, I threw the dust at it, and watched the moonlight glint off the shimmering particles as they bounced against the glass. I closed my eyes tightly and imagined the glass busting out, with all the pieces dropping on the ground outside. I was also careful to imagine all the broken shards disappearing, leaving nothing but a safe, clean sill. Opening my eyes, I knew what was coming next, and covered my face with my hands as I heard the sound of glass shattering.
“Go,” Knight said. I glanced over to find him right beside me, clearly ready to climb through the window behind me. I started to push myself through the large opening, but being faced with a big ass potential fall once I got to the other side, I paused. At that same moment, I heard what sounded like the monotonous ticking of a clock. Confused, I suddenly felt Knight’s hands on my back, thrusting me through the window. I blinked, and in that brief millisecond, felt the cold night air against my face. That feeling was soon replaced with the rocky terrain of the road. Hitting the ground knocked the wind out of me. When I felt Knight's body on top of mine, I forced myself up, completely at a loss as to what was happening. When I tried to sit up though, Knight held me down, covering my body with his.
"It's going to blow!" he yelled into my ear.
Before I could ask him what the hell was going on, I heard the explosion. It was so loud, I felt my brain rattling between my ears. For a moment, I half wondered if my eardrums had just been blown clean out of my head. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly in an automatic reaction and felt Knight tightening his arms around me. He pushed my face into the ground as he shielded me with his body. The sounds of flying shrapnel were thick in my ears. Knight jerked against me and I could hear the thrumming of his heart.
"Have you been hit?" I screamed out against the blaring din.
"Don't move!"
I'm not sure how long we stayed like that, probably mere seconds, although it felt like hours. The ringing still blared, deafening me. Finally, Knight rolled off me and got onto his hands and knees. I sat up, shaking my head against the dull pounding in my ears that made me think the explosion must have injured my eardrums. It sounded like I was underwater, like there was a dribbling brook nearby. I shook my head again, then brought my hands to my ears, cupping them to see if the sound lessened. It didn't.
Knight grabbed my hand, bringing my attention to his face. "Heal yourself," he yelled. I didn’t really hear him, but I could read what he was saying.
I nodded, shaking my hand until my fairy dust appeared. I threw the dust over my head, closing my eyes and imagining my ears healing themselves. When I opened my eyes again, the ringing had dissipated and I felt as good as I could hope for, given the circumstances. I glanced at Knight and noticed he hadn't changed positions.
"Are you hurt?" I asked in a tremulous voice.
"My back," he said. I stood up and walked aro
und him, stopping in shock when I noticed the long and angry gash across his upper back. It spanned the top of his neck all the way to his middle spine. It was so deep, I could see the white bone beneath it; well, that is, through all the blood. The wound must have resulted from the shrapnel—it looked like a piece of something had split his back in a long, clean stroke. I shook my fist until I felt it fill with dust and sprinkled the glittery particles on top of him, like drops of rain. At the same time, I closed my eyes and pictured his wounds healing, weaving themselves closed as if with an invisible thread. But when I opened my eyes, his wound was just as raw as before.
"What?" I started.
He sat back on his haunches and seemed to bend forward a bit, panting as he did so. I walked around to face him, noticing how he winced with pain. He closed his eyes and appeared to be concentrating, his lips tight and his eyes clenched. I peered over his shoulder and watched the angry, red swelling of the cut slowly give way to his tan skin. The skin then seemed to stitch itself together, the seam of the gash slowly giving way to nothing but an uninterrupted canvas of perfect skin. That was when I remembered that he could heal himself, something he'd artfully demonstrated for me when I first met him.
"That'll have to do," he said, straining to get to his feet. I immediately took his arm and braced myself to support his weight as he used me for his crutch.
"You aren't all the way healed?"
He nodded. "I am, but I lost a lot of blood," he answered in a shallow voice. When I glanced up at him, I could see the truth of his words. Blood soaked the remnants of his shirt back and his face was paler than usual, beads of perspiration dotting his hairline. His hands were clammy against my body. Only pockets of tan skin peeped through his tattered clothing, which was utterly drenched in blood. Even the backs of his pants were also stained red.
"Will you be okay?" I asked, my voice belying my worry.
He simply chuckled deeply, rubbing my head with his knuckles, like I was a little kid. “Should I take that to mean you're actually worried about me?"
"Just answer the damn question," I muttered.
He eyed himself, as if assessing the damage, then looked at me, smiling. “Never better.”
I shook my head and sighed. “I should have remembered that you can heal yourself and survive fire."
He beamed widely but he still looked exhausted. “Forged by the fire of Hades, Dulce. Keyword: fire.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, sighing as we both turned toward the direction of the Denali, or what was left of it. Now it looked like the burnt-out remains of some kind of enormous beast. The steel was so blackened and bent, it no longer resembled a car. “So what the hell just happened?” I asked, looking up at him.
Shaking his head, he attempted to stand up straight, as if summoning all his power. He separated himself from me and then took a few steps forward, stretching his arms above his head as if to check his handiwork on his back. “It was a botched assassination attempt.”
“Botched ... assassination attempt?”
He shrugged and bent forward, stretching his arms out in front of him. I couldn’t help noticing how his muscles bulged despite the bloody remains of his clothes.
“Botched. The thing should have blown from the moment we stepped into the car. Somewhere, someone’s magic went wrong." Then he glanced up and smiled at me. "Luckily, for you and me.”
“How would anyone know where to find us?” I asked and watched him pick up a piece of debris that looked like it was once a part of the door. He clutched it in his hand and motioned for me to approach him. When I did, he draped his arm around me again and we continued forward, albeit slowly.
“Loyalists. They make it their business to know." He kicked a piece of metal beside his foot and the metal clanked as it came into contact with another piece of the Denali. “There are spies all over the place. This is just their calling card. The hard part is going to be tracing it back, and finding out who is responsible.”
“Were they targeting you or me?"
He sighed and shook his head. “No way of knowing. Maybe both of us.”
I nodded, realizing there was no point in asking him questions because all we could do was speculate. “So what now?”
He shrugged and smiled down at me. “You up for a little stroll?”
EIGHT
The so-called "stroll" became a four-hour hike with nothing but the moon and a blanket of stars to light our way. The dirt road seemed never ending, comprising miles of flat land on either side with only the outlines of spotty pine trees to break the monotony. It seemed the longer we walked, the colder the air became; and eventually, I could see my breath. Knight helped to keep me warm though, owing to the fact that he was using me as his crutch and consequently, enveloping half of me in his body heat. After we managed to cross all of BFE (or so it felt), we reached an equally desolate highway. While the highway didn't look as though it promised more civilization than the dirt road from which we'd just emerged, at least Knight now had cell phone service. And that was a godsend, as far as I was concerned.
After rejoicing over the single bar of connectivity, Knight managed to reach Christina and explain what had happened over the last several hours. I could hear her shocked exclamations, and from what I could make out, she was in the process of assembling her team for an emergency meeting. Thirty minutes after Knight hung up, a black Lincoln Town Car appeared. I didn't recognize the driver, but Knight did, so I figured we were in safe company. And it was about damn time! My left shoulder felt like it was crushed, after having supported Knight's massive weight for the last few hours.
Once we were seated in the cushy Town Car, Knight didn't say anything to the driver, or to me, for that matter. I wasn't sure if it was due to his exhaustion and pain or maybe he was just in an introspective mood. Not that his silence bothered me particularly. I cherished any quiet time where I could retire into the privacy of my head and get lost in my own thoughts. During the last few days, I couldn't say that I'd had any "me" time at all, so this was just what the doctor ordered.
I relaxed into the plush leather seat and closed my eyes, suddenly feeling fatigue’s claim on me. It threw me temporarily, when I thought how my adrenalin was on overdrive a mere few hours before; but now I wanted nothing more than the solace of sleep. Sleep, however, continued to elude me because there was way too much going on in my mind. My thoughts were a jumbled mix of fear, anger, and concern over what had just happened, and what sort of threat these so-called Loyalists now posed.
Why were Knight and I nearly been blown to smithereens? How could someone have known where we were? And, furthermore, who was that "someone"? If Knight and I were such easy targets, what did that mean for the rest of Christina's "A" Team? Were we just sitting ducks? Each one of us doomed to extermination in only a matter of time? Just how pervasive was my father's authority?
Being so consumed by my thoughts, it took me by surprise when the Town Car suddenly stopped. I opened my eyes and glanced beyond Knight to observe what looked like another military base. The eerie glow of the overhead floodlights illuminated a narrow guard station where several immense, concrete pylons outlined the entry through a pair of huge, wrought-iron gates. I pulled my attention away from the pylons and focused on a man in a dark grey uniform as he approached our vehicle. He was clutching a Quig 300—a weapon most similar to a semi-automatic machine gun.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"Compound Two," Knight answered in a worn-out tone. I didn't say anything, but watched the driver roll down his window as the guard leaned over and stuck his head into the Town Car. First, he studied the driver, then Knight, and then me. Based on the whiff of dog that suddenly rose up into my nostrils, I figured the guard must have been a were.
"Louie," he said, addressing the driver. Then with a glance back at Knight again, he said, "Vander."
"Greetings," Knight replied drolly. "We're in something of a rush, so let's get on with it."
The guard said nothing as he re
ached into his pocket, withdrawing something that looked like a cigarette lighter. Knight simply nodded and rolled his window down as the guard approached. The man leaned in and held the lighter directly in front of Knight's eyes. A red, laser-like light suddenly emitted from the front of the object and the guard moved his hand very slowly from left to right, allowing the red of the light to scan both of Knight's irises. The whole thing took maybe two seconds; then the guard gave a nod of approval before returning the laser pen to his pocket. He then faced me.
Who's she?" he asked.
"She's with me," Knight answered evasively. The guard eyed me once again with a frown.
"She'll have to be checked just like everyone else, Vander."
Knight sighed like he didn't have the time, much less the interest, in getting me "checked." "Make it quick—we're on borrowed time."
"What's he talking about?" I asked in a concerned tone, wondering if I was to be victim number two of the cigarette laser scanner. Not that it looked painful in the least, but anyhoo ...
"Don't work yourself up," Knight answered as he further reclined into his seat. He smirked at me as if he were extending an invitation to climb onto his lap. "It's best to remain calm. Breathe in slowly and breathe out slowly. The more your heart rate increases, the harder it is for the Magreew to confirm your innocence."
"The what?" I repeated, frowning as I narrowed my eyes at him. Before I could demand an explanation, I heard the sound of my door opening. I immediately turned to find the guard standing in front of me. There was a black box in his hands. It appeared to be about two feet long by a foot wide.
"Please stand up," he said in a monotone.
"What is that?" I asked, making no motion to stand as I folded my arms against my chest and did my best to appear nonplussed.
"Dulcie, it's policy," Knight said as I glanced over at him. "Just trust me, okay?" He smiled that charming boyish smile of his, which I supposed he thought would put me at ease. It didn't work.