My mother had died because of me, too. Her life had been stolen, just like all the others. I pulled away from the thought only to catch a short glance of a screaming woman that froze my soul. Was that how my mom had felt before she died?
Wyn swerved again, this time sending me into the corner of the suitcase. I forgot everything else and yelped out in pain as my breath was knocked out of me from the impact. She moved the car and another explosion hit the road, sending bits of asphalt against the side of the car. The residue of the blast pelted us, a large piece slamming into the side window near my head with a resounding crack as the glass shattered.
“Ilyan, do something!” Wyn screamed as she swerved once again to escape another explosion.
Ilyan hesitated before raising his hands above his head in silence and then placing his palms flat against the top of the car. His hands glowed bright blue as the roof of the car ripped apart in a loud explosion that ricocheted through the enclosed space. I screamed as the pieces of metal ripped and curled away from the car and into the remaining highway traffic. The hot wind of summer flew into the now topless car, whipping my hair haphazardly around my face.
Ilyan turned and placed his feet firmly in the soft seat of the car. He stood, his torso extending out of the top of the car as he faced what I could only assume were our pursuers. The wind caught his hair and whipped it around his face. The violent nature of the flying strands matched his face perfectly; his eyes were set in a dark, stoic blue, his jaw set in an oddly patronizing smile. There was so much power and determination that I couldn’t look away from him.
“Hold on tight, Jos,” Wyn screamed from the driver’s seat. “All hell’s going to break loose now that they know he is here.”
I looked up at Ilyan whose smile had increased tremendously as he raised his hand to the side and sliced it through the air.
The car vibrated as a large, abandoned dump truck skidded across the road, rumbling violently in the opposite direction. The truck followed the span of Ilyan’s hand as it swept behind us before a large pulse of light left Ilyan’s palm. The light must have collided with the truck, as only moments later, our car rocked to the side, an explosion violently pushing it around.
Wyn swerved the car to the left, cutting over two lanes. Ilyan swayed, but stayed atop the seat, shifting his feet to compensate for the dramatic movement. He raised his hands above his head again; his palms open to the sky, his face toward whoever followed us. At first, I thought nothing had happened, but then I saw the flock of birds, their path changing to reflect the movement of Ilyan’s hands. The stoic V of the birds was thrown apart as he moved his hands. A rush of wind sped above the car as they made their way toward our attackers, whipping through my hair on its way. It tugged at the bag I sat next to, the destructive force shredding the plastic.
Ilyan moved his hands again, this time to the side. I felt the wind rush past us before it picked up a small sedan that had been abandoned at some point in time. The car lifted easily into the air, the large metal frame spinning like a leaf in the wind. It hovered there until it zoomed away to crash into something or someone behind us. I jumped as the noise of the collision hit us, the sound echoing around the speedily emptying highway.
Ilyan smiled at the impact, his face alight with enjoyment. “There he is,” he growled, and he lowered his torso for only a moment to speak quietly to Wyn. “You’ll need to be on your toes. You know your father’s temperament better than I do; Timothy is going to play dirty.”
“You just keep yours under control, and we may escape this mess we are in,” Wyn responded forcefully.
Ilyan laughed wildly at her before standing again, facing our attackers.
Wyn slowed the car briefly before accelerating again, her driving sending us barreling through empty lanes and around frantically driven cars. Ilyan only laughed at the movement of the car, his body swaying gracefully as we swerved.
His laughing continued as he waved his hands above him. I watched his actions in confusion as a large van came into view, maneuvering through the air above us. My heart jumped at the sight of the family still trapped inside. Ilyan had only been using empty vehicles as ammo, but someone else had thrown more than a vehicle at us. Someone else had thrown people. My anxiety lessened as Ilyan set the van down at the side of the road, and hopefully, into safety. He didn’t waste another moment before sending a massive explosion toward our attackers.
Ilyan lifted his hand again, his eyes taunting the enemy behind us. His hand flexed, sending long strands of violent color from his fingertips, like electricity. The sound of explosions and grinding metal penetrated the air so completely; I could not tell what was going on.