The Undead Pool (The Hollows #12)(117)
Author: Kim Harrison

Okay, maybe this will work, I thought as we outdistanced the mystics we’d left behind. I was getting sporadic mystic reports of laughing Weres being handcuffed and slammed against the hoods of their cars. The Weres on four paws were uncatchable, racing through the streets as they tailed us. The vampires we’d left behind were happily demolishing the roadblock.

Scott, the only vamp left beside Nina, looked positively depressed. “They’ll call for backup,” Nina said as she unbuckled her belt and went to sit with him. “Maybe they’ll try to stop us, and then you can try your gun out.”

“Maybe,” he moaned, and Ivy smirked as Nina put a comforting arm over Scott’s big shoulders. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

Beside me, Trent shook his head, smiling.

“Rachel?” Ivy’s voice was low as she fought with her instincts. “Is that David in that last car behind us?”

I’d already heard from a mystic that it was, but I leaned to look out the broken window, my hair streaming. The truck chasing us had three people in the front, and about six wolves in the bed. As I watched, another wolf loped out of the darkness and vaulted into the truck bed, nails scraping. “Can you slow down long enough to get him in here?”

Ivy put her flashers on, and once the truck blinked its lights to acknowledge it, she abruptly pulled over. My head swung as she hit the brakes hard, and Scott’s muscles bunched as he yanked the door. There was a snap as he broke the safety feature, and the door slid open even before we came to a halt. I could hear sirens. My adrenaline pulsed, making Scott’s eyes flash black. This was so not good.

“Go!” David shouted as he pitched in, duster furling as Scott caught and spun him around. Three Weres on paws and with waving tails lurched in after him, and Scott slammed the door.

Nina was at the back window, head hanging out. “They’re only a couple of streets away!” she shouted, and Ivy floored it. I scrambled for a handhold, and the sound of sliding nails scraped along the back of my skull as we took a corner hard. Trent gave my shoulder a squeeze, and when I nodded that I was okay, he let go.

Hat crushed in his hand, David knelt between the two front seats, holding on as we swerved and jostled. The street lighting was marginally better, and I shivered at the wind and come-and-go shadows on the faces around me, eager for action. Smiling widely, he turned, nodding first to me, then Trent.

“Sorry I’m late. Just keep going as you are and your way should be clear.”

“Should be, but isn’t,” Ivy said with a sigh. “Hold on. We’ve got another one. Damn, it’s human,” she added, and Scott frowned as he looked at his weapon. “This is going to be tricky. Nina, can you ease up a little?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” she grumbled, kicking her grenade stash deeper under the bench.

Peeved, David slipped into the front seat, busy with his cell phone. “Sorry. This was supposed to be clear. Circle around. Give me a block or two,” he asked, and without question, Ivy turned the van. There were shouts from the blockade, and a spotlight made a puddling flow as it searched, but we were down a side street and gone.

“Yes, it’s me,” David said into his tiny phone. “General Lee needs another rabbit at the corner of Sleepy Hollow and ah . . . Ludville.”

I held on tight as we took a corner. “General Lee?”

Trent leaned to me, the scent of cinnamon rising. “Yeee-hahhh,” he drawled, and I got it.

“Oh my God! Look at that!” Ivy exclaimed, and the van rocked when everyone but Trent and I flung themselves halfway out a window. Ivy slowed as a wave of brown flowed out of the darkness and to the blockade. It was the Weres clearing a path.

“You can turn around now,” David said, and Ivy checked, then double-checked both sides of the road for stragglers before turning in front of a dark storefront. I tensed as an influx of mystics warned me of something, but before I could figure it out, a blossom of orange rose up over the surrounding low buildings and trees where the roadblock was. Had been, maybe. Two seconds later, the van rocked with the sound. Nina oooohed. It was the Fourth of July, and we had the fireworks to prove it.

David muttered “thanks” into his phone and closed it. “That should do it,” he said confidently. But my good mood faltered when Ivy turned the corner.

Burning chunks of car and roadblock littered the road, happy Weres with singed fur and lolling tongues pacing back and forth or licking the faces of downed humans. Please, may no one be hurt too badly. There were too many people. They were getting hurt.

“Damn it!” Scott complained as Ivy carefully wove her way through the burning rubble. “We haven’t done anything! We can do more than look pretty, you know.”

His face split in a wide grin, David turned from the front seat. “Face it. We’re better organized.”

“Only because the masters are sleeping,” Scott grumbled, depressed, as Nina put an arm over his shoulder and tried to convince him they would see some action soon.

Which was exactly what I was afraid of. But I breathed easier as a few people began to stir, one gripping the ruff of a Were for balance as he slowly picked himself up off the pavement. Either he didn’t know the Weres had caused the explosion or he thought he was a friendly dog.

Finally Ivy got through the worse of it and began to pick up speed. “What are you smiling about?” I said unhappily to Trent, and he leaned closer, grabbing my shoulder so we wouldn’t bump heads as we jolted along.

“I think it’s amazing that when your world collapses, you have people falling over themselves to help you, and when mine collapses, I have people fighting among themselves to get the scraps.” Nodding, he looked at David, his phone to his ear as he coordinated something with Ivy. “You’ve done something right, Rachel, sacrificing for others the way you do.”

“They’re going to get hurt,” I said glumly, and he lifted a shoulder as if to agree.

“Ah, guys?” Ivy said, the pace finally slowing as we found a street that wasn’t blocked off. “We might have a problem.”

“All right!” Scott said enthusiastically, but I didn’t think Scott was going to get to bust any heads as I looked out the front window. It was the mortuary, lit up under mobile spotlights and noisy generators. FIB and I.S. cars were parked haphazardly on the street, the lawn, the lawn across the street . . . everywhere. Lines had been strung, and people dashed around looking ineffective. There were a couple of ambulances, but they weren’t busy.