When she emerged, a coffee was waiting for her at the pickup counter. As she walked out the door a customer yelled behind her, “Hey, that’s mine!” but Rose paid him no mind. She made a point not to respond to uncouth behavior like shouting. His mother should have taught him better. If he persisted, Rose would.
She got back in her car feeling much refreshed and looked down the street for signs of a freeway entrance. Somewhere along the way she’d have to dump the body in her trunk before it started to smell. Unclean things, bodies. Maybe it’d be quicker to leave the car instead and find herself another, something roomier that didn’t smell like cigarettes. She didn’t want to keep Mickey waiting. Twelve years was enough, sweet man. A green sign directed her to I-95 heading south.
But the kat in Rose’s head said, That way! West. Go that way!
And then she knew what the sound was. She should have recognized it at once. The rattle had to be the gate. No matter how far she ran, she’d never be free of Hell. kat-a-kat: That way!
No. She accelerated to exit the intersection. Before morning she could be in Mickey’s arms.
kat-a-kat: Obey me. Turn. Now.
It really wasn’t fair. All she wanted to do was get back to her sweetheart—twelve years!—before she was caught and sent back to the bad place. And here the bad place was coming after her before she could do a really good deed. A big one. Mickey would know just the thing.
kat-a-kat: Kill a woman, and you’ll never have to fear that place again.
Rose eased her foot off the gas. “Any woman?” That was easy. Women were everywhere. kat-a-kat: Layla Mathews.
“And I’ll be free?”
kat-a-kat-a-kat-a-kat
Her bad hand kept the steering wheel steady while she whipped the car into a tight turn.
Open, empty road was before her, so Rose closed her eyes. A quick stop, perhaps a difficult moment when she’d have to take care of some unpleasantness, and then freedom. Mickey. He’d be so happy to see her.
Chapter 6
Khan cradled Layla in his arms as a third metallic shock wave hit her. The blast also shredded his Shadows, their frayed edges whipping with the warped currents that wracked her body, the room, the air, but she was shuddering and insensible to his near dissolution. He was Shadow weak, but he still commanded the layers of darkness to open a passage, to permit a final shift to Segue. The danger came from another location, but to that high place, he could not go. His only hope was that Adam could get word to Custo.
Twilight sighed around him, its power briefly suffusing his being. He used the rush to propel himself back into mortality, where he crouched in a large empty room of Segue’s main floor, Layla in his arms. “Adam!”
A heartbeat among the many within Segue accelerated, the person moving quickly. Others joined the first, and together they ranged closer. Finally, Adam, jogging down a connected series of wide rooms, appeared. He was breathless, confusion and alarm a static pop around him. “What’s going—?”
“Call the angel,” Khan rasped. “Tell him to stop.”
A handful of other mortals gathered and watched from a few paces back.
Adam frowned. “Is that Layla Math—?”
Layla jerked and clutched at Khan as she was struck again, a reverberating tone ringing out as a hammer rings an anvil. The sound set Khan’s teeth on edge, and he willed Shadow to hold his form. She needed him now, in this moment.
Adam was already on his phone. “Custo. Stop whatever you’re doing. It’s hurting Layla Mathews.” A pause, then Adam sharpened his gaze on Khan. “Yes, he’s here. He brought her.” His forehead flexed with disbelief, his focus shifting to Layla. “You can’t be serious.” Trouble billowed off him, but he nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”
Khan ignored Adam as he knelt beside them, making another call on that worldly contraption of his. “I have a wounded woman on the main floor, east side, third parlor. We’ll need a gurney.” Another pause. “I have no idea what the nature of her injury is.”
More heartbeats accelerating. Sudden movement below. One from floors above. But the heartbeat that concerned him was the flutter within Layla’s chest. It stammered into a regular rhythm, and he knew, for the present, that she would survive. What other hurts she’d sustained, he could not guess. Her eyes were wide, jaw was tense, skin was white, as she waited for the next blow. A trail of thick blood trickled from her nose.
“Ms. Mathews, help is on the way,” Adam said. “What happened to you?”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I . . . I don’t know.” She ran her fingertips under her nose and the blood spread to her cheek.
Khan helped her to sit. She leaned back, her weight on his chest. Every sinew in her body was tensed.
He felt Adam’s attention transfer back to him. “Mind telling me what’s going on?”