like the last time we’d seen each other, when he’d been shot in the shoulder and was still desperately trying to help. Not hiding from the Bogeyman.
He held Angela in his arms, and I knew without checking her pulse that she was dead. Blood had seeped from a variety of deep gashes on her face and chest. My heart constricted, squeezed by a steel band of grief. Looking at her adult face, I barely recalled the preteen she had been, and yet her death hurt like we’d been friends for years. I had lost a part of me; we all lost a part of each other every time one of us died.
“Hey, Teresa,” Ethan said. “Gage.” His voice carried the fatigue of an elderly man and more pain than any human being should be forced to carry.
“What happened?” Gage asked.
“Angela and I ran into each other in Flagstaff and decided to travel together. Twenty minutes ago someone ran us off the road. She wasn’t wearing her seat belt and was pretty banged up when we crashed. The other driver got out of the car and his eyes—”
Specter.
“—were bright yellow. He fired a shotgun at us a few times. I threw him back with some wind and got Angela out of the car. He tried to run us down again. Clipped me, but he got her hard. I picked her up and hid her in that ditch, but by the time I got us there …” His voice cracked. “Then I called up the biggest damned cyclone I could manage.”
I looked over my shoulder at the ball of metal that had once been a truck. “The driver is still inside?”
“Yeah.” He shifted the weight of Angela’s body, which couldn’t have been much. She was a tiny woman, maybe five feet tall and small-boned, but Ethan was a thin guy and the muscles in his arms vibrated from the strain.
Gage eased her body out of Ethan’s arms, releasing him from the burden. Ethan’s shoulders slumped. I slipped my arm around his waist, offering silent support while we walked back to the waiting copter. There was little use in inspecting the hunk of metal. Specter’s latest host was hamburger.
“I remember the hair, but what’s with the eyes?” Ethan asked.
“I got back the wrong powers,” I said. “Something like what my grandmother had.”
He stumbled. “Really? Anyone else get them back wrong?”
“Not so far. In addition to my sparkling amethyst eyes, I can blast things with purple energy orbs. It would be more fun if it didn’t make me so damned hungry.”
The copter blades kicked up dust, and I coughed, desperate for a drink of water after taking in that mouthful of sand.
Ethan raised his right hand. The wind whirled in a different direction at first and then formed into one solid, swirling motion. In seconds, he created a tunnel of clean air, its walls made of shifting layers of desert sand. It led right up to the side of the copter, and it made the rest of our legwork easier.
Once we were strapped back in, and Angela was laid at our feet, I rifled through the supply compartment above my head. I felt around and retrieved two bottles of water and tossed one to Ethan. I gulped from mine, swishing it around to clear out the grit. Only when I was ready to spit did I realize we’d already taken off. I looked around the small interior. Nothing.
Everyone eats a peck of dirt in their lifetime (or so I’d heard once), so I swallowed. And then guzzled more water. My stomach churned from drinking so much on an empty stomach. The filling lunch of chicken and pasta seemed like days ago.
Ethan passed his bottle over to Gage, and then asked, “Who else is with you guys?”
As we told him about Specter and the three dead Rangers, he sank deeper into his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.
My hand jerked, spilling a bit of water on my T-shirt. I sat, still as stone, unsure where the voice came from.
Gage nudged me with his elbow, and I understood. I retrieved my Vox and pressed the silver button. “Onyx, it’s Trance, go ahead.”
He held Angela in his arms, and I knew without checking her pulse that she was dead. Blood had seeped from a variety of deep gashes on her face and chest. My heart constricted, squeezed by a steel band of grief. Looking at her adult face, I barely recalled the preteen she had been, and yet her death hurt like we’d been friends for years. I had lost a part of me; we all lost a part of each other every time one of us died.
“Hey, Teresa,” Ethan said. “Gage.” His voice carried the fatigue of an elderly man and more pain than any human being should be forced to carry.
“What happened?” Gage asked.
“Angela and I ran into each other in Flagstaff and decided to travel together. Twenty minutes ago someone ran us off the road. She wasn’t wearing her seat belt and was pretty banged up when we crashed. The other driver got out of the car and his eyes—”
Specter.
“—were bright yellow. He fired a shotgun at us a few times. I threw him back with some wind and got Angela out of the car. He tried to run us down again. Clipped me, but he got her hard. I picked her up and hid her in that ditch, but by the time I got us there …” His voice cracked. “Then I called up the biggest damned cyclone I could manage.”
I looked over my shoulder at the ball of metal that had once been a truck. “The driver is still inside?”
“Yeah.” He shifted the weight of Angela’s body, which couldn’t have been much. She was a tiny woman, maybe five feet tall and small-boned, but Ethan was a thin guy and the muscles in his arms vibrated from the strain.
Gage eased her body out of Ethan’s arms, releasing him from the burden. Ethan’s shoulders slumped. I slipped my arm around his waist, offering silent support while we walked back to the waiting copter. There was little use in inspecting the hunk of metal. Specter’s latest host was hamburger.
“I remember the hair, but what’s with the eyes?” Ethan asked.
“I got back the wrong powers,” I said. “Something like what my grandmother had.”
He stumbled. “Really? Anyone else get them back wrong?”
“Not so far. In addition to my sparkling amethyst eyes, I can blast things with purple energy orbs. It would be more fun if it didn’t make me so damned hungry.”
The copter blades kicked up dust, and I coughed, desperate for a drink of water after taking in that mouthful of sand.
Ethan raised his right hand. The wind whirled in a different direction at first and then formed into one solid, swirling motion. In seconds, he created a tunnel of clean air, its walls made of shifting layers of desert sand. It led right up to the side of the copter, and it made the rest of our legwork easier.
Once we were strapped back in, and Angela was laid at our feet, I rifled through the supply compartment above my head. I felt around and retrieved two bottles of water and tossed one to Ethan. I gulped from mine, swishing it around to clear out the grit. Only when I was ready to spit did I realize we’d already taken off. I looked around the small interior. Nothing.
Everyone eats a peck of dirt in their lifetime (or so I’d heard once), so I swallowed. And then guzzled more water. My stomach churned from drinking so much on an empty stomach. The filling lunch of chicken and pasta seemed like days ago.
Ethan passed his bottle over to Gage, and then asked, “Who else is with you guys?”
As we told him about Specter and the three dead Rangers, he sank deeper into his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.
My hand jerked, spilling a bit of water on my T-shirt. I sat, still as stone, unsure where the voice came from.
Gage nudged me with his elbow, and I understood. I retrieved my Vox and pressed the silver button. “Onyx, it’s Trance, go ahead.”
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