For a moment, only a moment, she considered surrendering, giving them what they wanted if only to spare Ash. They’d kill him, they’d made that clear.
But she knew Ash would come after her. He’d risk himself, sacrifice himself, to get her free and she couldn’t bear to have him do that.
Ash
, she sent, putting her heart and soul into his name, not knowing if it would work.
Below, Ash let the man in his hands drop, the man’s neck broken swiftly and silently even as Miri’s alarm raced through him.
He went still, his senses on full alert as the rest drew close enough for him to sense them, too. They were surrounded.
Even if he were to call the lightning, in the lightening darkness he could only be sure of taking out those closest but not before someone alerted the others. It wouldn’t be enough. Nor could they escape easily. The men moving through the trees would hear his motorcycle, no matter how quietly it ran.
There was no chance even for Miri, alone, to escape. He had no doubt that others like these waited on the other side of the motel for just that eventuality.
Templeton, or his minion Hargrove, weren’t taking any chances.
It reminded him sharply, painfully, of those last moments in his village, seeing the dying and knowing that for all his skills in battle, for all his skills at healing, he couldn’t save them, not all of them, not until the last of the invaders was defeated or fled. Knowing that for some of his people, loved ones, friends, he would be too late.
As now. He and Miri were trapped.
Miri, sensing the despair that took him, grasped the edge of the coping at the edge of the roof, rolled over it and dropped down to the landing.
She ran to him.
For a moment, she went still looking at the dead men around him.
Unarmed and barehanded, Ash had taken on three armed and armored men.
Ash felt her as much as sensed her as she ran down the stairs, saw her go still as she stared in shock and horror at what he’d done. His heart went still as well.
Then she turned, her eyes met his and she ran to him.
He crushed her to him, curled one hand around her head in relief and gratitude.
Miri looked up into his handsome face, at the despair in his golden eyes. She raised a hand to his face and touched his cheek, ran her fingers down the line of his jaw.
In her mind, the sight of tank of natural gas rose like a whale breaching the surface of the ocean. She looked at the weapons the men around Ash had carried. High-powered military grade weapons. She was a physicist. Facts and figures raced through her mind, volumes, quantities, weight, velocity. One of the other popular seminars she and some of the other physics teachers held was about what Hollywood got wrong. Miri had taken the ballistics section, showing the students how difficult it was to do what she planned.
If the tank hadn’t been emptied completely, though… If the contents were sold as part of the motel’s assets… There was always some little gas left in the tanks even so.
The For Sale sign was new. It couldn’t have been that long. They might not have emptied the tank at all if the gas had been paid for, it would belong to the new owner.
It might work. If nothing else, there was the chance the sound might be enough.
“Ash,” she whispered, “there might be a way.”
He looked at her.
“Will you trust me?” she asked, echoing his words to her.
There was something in Miri’s eyes, in her mind. Knowledge and a trace of doubt. It was a chance, though. He cupped her cheek and gave her words back to her. “Yes. Always.”
“Can you call up the lightning again like you did last night?” she asked.
It seemed a lifetime ago.
Eyeing her intently, Ash nodded. “I can’t project it far and I can only hit what I can see.”
She smiled a little and tilted her head at the propane tank, a white form amid the fog.
“Can you hit that on my signal?”
Looking at it, Ash smiled in return. “Yes.”
Bending Miri scooped up one of the dead men’s weapons, popped the clip and examined it as she prayed to the gods of entropy. Steel-jacketed bullets. She recognized them from the class she’d taught. She rammed the clip back into place.
“Get to the motorcycle,” she said, “If this works we’ll have to move fast.”
Miri knew Ash would die for her. If they captured her? Fear coursed through her.
If this didn’t work? What then? It was the only chance they had, if what she sensed was correct.
She didn’t know what these people wanted – her ability to manifest the planes of existence? – or what it was about her that warranted this kind of response but it supported Ash’s fear. She remembered Hargrove’s insistence, the fight in the parking lot, the sheer numbers of those that had come after them. The sheer numbers, the expense… If this didn’t work?
“Come for me, Ash,” she whispered.
Ash’s jaw tightened, as did his hand around her head, his golden eyes brilliant as he looked at her.
“Always,” he said. It was an oath.
She nodded, took a breath. “Go.”
However reluctantly, trusting her, he went.
Turning she ran on tiptoe half the length of the motel, retracing the path Ash had by following the dead men he’d left in his trail.
Ducking into a stairwell, she pointed the gun in the general direction of the tank of gas and opened fire, knowing she simply had to hit it. The walls of it were thick, though. She stitched a path down its broad side and was rewarded by the sound of the bullets as they impacted. The metal rang, she concentrated her fire on the valve. All she needed to do was introduce air to the gas or gas to the air.
Gunfire opened up around her in response to hers. It spattered from the faux brick and stucco of the motel walls, dug holes in it.
There was a roar. Ash’s motorcycle.
Even as bullets flew, out of the darkness and fog came Ash on his motorcycle.
Ash’s heart was in his throat as return fire opened up around Miri and she ran through it to meet him. She fired bursts from the weapon in her hand to force the hunters down even as bullets flew past her head.
“Ash!” she shouted, both warning and entreaty as she fired one last burst, then tossed the gun away. “NOW!”
Slamming on his brakes, Ash slewed the tail of the bike around, reached out to sweep her up behind him even as she threw a leg over the back of the bike.
With a gesture, he called up lightning and cast it toward the tank.
Alerted by what he could see in her mind, he locked his hands tight on the handlebars as the lightning hit and the nearly empty gas tank exploded with a monstrous CRUMP.
The sound was monstrous.
The moment Miri’s arms wrapped around his waist he opened the bike up. It almost seemed to leap forward.
Even as he gunned the bike, a huge hot wave of expanding gases from the exploding tank slapped powerfully against them like a massive warm mattress.
It took every ounce of his Daemonae strength to hold the bike on course.
That scorching wave bowled over those who’d been closest to it, flattening them.
Clinging to Ash, Miri pressed her face against his back as they shot through the scorching blast of heat.
A huge gout of flame rose into the sky, illuminating the clearing brilliantly. It turned night vision goggles their pursuers wore opaque with the brightness while the heat and flame drove the others back.
They raced past the scattered, momentarily battered and blinded line of the enemy. Ash turned the bike toward the back roads.
A glance backward at the rising rush of flame and smoke, at the scattered men, and Miri nodded in satisfaction.
Someone would have some ‘splainin’ to do, as they used to say.
The thick fog worked in their favor, helping to conceal their escape until the sun rose high enough to burn it off and turned the foggy morning into a glorious Indian summer day. The sky was clear and sharply blue, the air surprisingly warm for fall. The hills around them were ablaze, the shades of autumn were bright against the blue sky.
Ash pushed it for as long as he thought necessary, changing their direction repeatedly, moving more west where once they’d headed north and east rather than use the interstate to make time. He changed roads to confuse their pursuers and hopefully lose them, glancing frequently in his rear view mirrors until he was certain they weren’t being followed.
Wrapping an arm around behind him on a straight stretch, Ash pulled Miri closer and then let his hand skim down to her knee to tuck his fingers beneath her leg. He loved the press of her breasts against his back.
Once he was reasonably sure they’d lost their hunters, for the moment, he turned them toward the nearest interstate and followed the signs until they were headed north once again. He was content to let the bike swoop through the turns of the back roads with the knowledge of Miri’s presence fixed firmly at his back until they reached the interstate again.
Despite the unseasonably warm weather, traffic on the highway at that early hour was still relatively light and Ash was content not to push too hard. At the speed they were traveling they would reach Gabriel’s valley – the refuge of the Daemonae – by nightfall. That was soon enough for him. He was still learning, still exploring Miri. He didn’t want to share her with anyone, not quite yet.
Not even his brothers.
His reverie was broken by the growing awareness that something was wrong, that the traffic patterns had somehow shifted, changed in some subtle but significant way.
He stiffened even as his heart sank.
Ash didn’t need to speak, verbally or mentally, he felt Miri straighten at his back. Her hands settled on his hips to leave his arms and body free, as alert and aware as he was.
He was grateful for her responsiveness even as he gauged their situation.
Multiple cars were involved and they closed in on them from behind, trying to cut off their escape or retreat and surround them. All were high-powered vehicles, not your average car.
“How are they finding us so quickly?” Ash demanded in frustration, as much to himself as to Miri.
He gunned the bike, whipped it past the other vehicles around them.
It was a good question.
In memory, Miri saw her car and Ash’s motorcycle sitting in the empty parking lot at the University. Unattended, the last vehicles there. Unmistakably theirs. Her breath caught. Hargrove hadn’t taken any chances, he’d been prepared in case they escaped.
“They’ve got a tracking device on your motorcycle,” she shouted in answer to his question.
It was the only thing that made sense.
Ash was so startled he glanced back over his shoulder at her.
She returned his look grimly.
The technology of the world the Daemonae had returned to still astonished him.
Ash, along with his brother Daemonae, had adapted to the wonders of motorized vehicles easily, especially motorcycles. They were almost better than horses, although a well-trained horse would have answered to his knees and left his hands free, unlike the motorcycle. But the motorcycle was faster.