I caught a flash of metal up ahead. The Bugatti was still just barely in sight, which meant that even Whitney couldn’t—or didn’t want to—violate the laws of physics. We still had a chance.
Behind us, I heard a crunch of metal. The police car had come to a bad end, presumably, from the disappointed wail of its siren that quickly tailed off into silence. “See if they’re okay, honey,” I said to David. He nodded and blipped out, and I was left alone, steering my roaring Viper at its absolute limit along the narrow, curving road. I was taking turns race-car wide, and I hoped nobody would come bumbling along in a pickup truck for me to sideswipe, but I figured if the Bugatti had managed, I would, too.
The radio in the Viper suddenly let out a loud burst of white noise, and then Whitney’s honey-dipped voice said, “You’re just full of spice, little bit. I can see why David thinks you hung the moon. But just between you and me, I think you’re a little bit out of your depth, sugar.”
The radio wasn’t a two-way, but I told her where she could shove it. It made me feel better. “Language,” she said reprovingly, which meant she could hear me. Or could guess how I’d reply, anyway. “I’m shocked, Joanne. You should slow that pretty little car down before you get hurt. Honestly, why do you care what I get up to? I can see why he cares, and he’s a funny old thing, isn’t he? But you shouldn’t. You and me, we’re a lot alike. We both like fast cars, right? And shiny things.”
“Oh, are we sorority sisters now?” I shot back. “Bite me, Bayou Barbie. What are you doing? Where do you think you can go? That car doesn’t exactly blend in!”
“Doesn’t have to,” she said. “You know, if we were sorority sisters, that would be one kick-ass ball of fun, don’t you think?”
“Whitney, what are you doing ?”
“Having fun,” she said, and there was a second of silence. When her voice came back, it sounded different. “Until it’s time not to have fun. And that’s coming up quick.”
“You know, Bikini Spice, you might try being a little less vague and a little more informative, if there’s something important going on.”
“Where’s the fun in that? Oh, by the way, heads up. Incoming!” She giggled, and then the static washed over it, and she was gone.
In the next instant, I saw something hurtling out of the sky into the path of my car, rolling out limply and lying flat on the pavement.
This one was no gator.
This was a man.
Instinct took over, and I slammed the brake and clutch, screaming rubber and pulling the emergency brake for added force. I didn’t want to drag the guy out of the way—for one thing, I wasn’t sure what kind of injuries he had, but they had to be pretty grievous, considering the height from which he’d fallen. “You bitch !” I panted, and managed to skid to a sideways stop with the smoking tires about three inches from the fallen body.
I scrambled out, legs shaking from the adrenaline rush, and fell on my knees next to him. The pavement was scorching hot, and the humid air felt suffocating; a swarm of mosquitoes instantly found me and started in on the bonanza. I blew them away with a pulse of Earth power and carefully put a hand on the man’s forehead. I didn’t know him. He was, as best I could tell, some stranger who’d just gotten caught up in things. I had no idea what he had to do with any of it.
David had described Whitney as a sociopath. This was real evidence that he was right.
The guy was alive, but he was unconscious and pretty badly hurt—internal injuries, a couple of broken bones. I was no expert at healing, but I did what I could, and as I did, I reached deep inside and tugged on the connection that existed between me and David—a kind of permanent cord binding us together. It didn’t take long for him to blip back in, landing at a run on the pavement and kneeling next to me.