“Remember, Hanzi’s got to see the explosion. I figure we have to grab him close to the edge of the jump.”
“I agree,” said Vayl.
“Okay then, let’s grab ourselves a couple of motorcycles.”
Here’s the thing about being wil ing to do anything for the love of your life. It turns out—you real y wil do anything. While Hanzi continued to wow the crowd with his way-cool bike tricks, I ran to the trailer parked at the side of the track, Vayl gal oping smoothly at my side. We knocked out a couple of perfectly innocent guys who would wake without ever knowing a skinny redheaded chick and a brooding vampire had punched them so hard their brains shut down for a few seconds. And then we stole their precious vehicles. Sometimes we just suck.
We drove back to where we’d left Jack, who jumped onto the front of my bike like he’d been riding since puppyhood. “Hold on, boy,” I told him. “We’re going airborne.” He tilted his head up so the air could brush back his fur, then he looked straight up so he could see me over the top of his head. And he grinned.
“You are truly the best dog ever,” I told him fondly as we revved our engines.
“Time?” Vayl yel ed over our noise.
“Yeah!” I shouted. He nodded and we drove, hard, to where Hanzi had now decided the only way the crowd could be happier was to see him drive on a tightrope made especial y for cycles. Riding twenty feet off the ground on a modified rope with no net made Hanzi seem especial y suited for one of the straitjackets I’d seen displayed recently in the Museum of Torture in Prague. Then I had no more time for thought.
Hanzi had made it across. Driven down the tightrope ramp and gunned it for the final stunt. The flaming hoops had been lit. We were driving to catch up and the crowd was screaming wildly, thinking it was al set up for them, a surprise three-cycle jump over a damn long distance.
“Hanzi!” Vayl bel owed.
I yel ed, “Vayl! That’s not his name now!”
Ten more seconds and we’d caught up to the stunt driver. Who looked from Vayl to me and back again with surprise so immense we could feel it, we could even see it despite the tinted visor.
“Change of plan, kiddo!” I yel ed.
“What?”
“Aim for the big door in the sky!”
“What?”
Vayl put every ounce of hypnotic power in his voice when he bel owed, “Aim for the big door in the sky!”
Now we’d rounded the curve and I could see the soul-rippers who’d been sent to fetch Hanzi running toward us. They, at least, had figured out that al was not copacetic in Andalusia this fine evening. But, stuck in human form, they couldn’t make their little legs pump any harder than was standard, and it was clear they’d never catch up to us in time to stop the bul et train we’d set in motion.
We accompanied Hanzi back to the starting point of the run, gunned our engines, and nailed our throttles, pushing the motorcycles hard toward the ramp. As we rushed toward the temporary wooden structure, which had only been made to hold the weight of a single rider, I prayed that the builders had supported it a little extra for today’s stunt, and then I concentrated on my newest friend, my portal to anywhere.
Sitting in front of me, his fur flying back from his face and chest, his tongue hanging free like a thick pink necklace, Jack barked joyful y as the doorway appeared in the air just ahead of us. But shit! The flaming hoop wasn’t big enough for al three of us!
I glanced at Vayl.
“One at a time!” he yel ed.
We quickly formed a line, with Hanzi in the lead, him in the middle, and Jack and me fol owing.
Hanzi leaped first, taking to the air like a rocket, the motorcycle fal ing away from his body slightly as gravity did its deed. He made it through the natural flames of his crew’s hoop, and my portal’s flames had just begun to reach out to him when the semi exploded.
He looked down, panicking as the world beneath him vanished in a bal of flame and flying metal.
An instant later he’d disappeared through the portal.
Vayl, already airborne, twisted as the force of the explosion hit his cycle. He control ed it masterful y, flying through the door just before a twisted hunk of door flew past the back of his head.
The concussion flipped Jack and me in a complete circle, making the crowd yel with excitement at what they assumed was our amazing trick as I struggled to keep the machine from tumbling sideways in the air and Jack scrabbled to stay on board, his nails scoring the gas tank as he pushed back into me. I wrapped my left arm around him, praying that I was strong enough to keep the handlebars straight with one arm when it came time to land the sucker, as we punched through the door. He yelped and I whispered stupid, soothing remarks into his flat-backed ears like, “When we get home I’l buy you that new Frisbee you’ve been eyeing. And I’l never offer you another leftover taco again. Just hang on, okay?”
As we flew through my portal I realized it had led us right back to The Stopover’s crossroads.
Only we were shockingly close to the goat track, flying much lower than expected to the pitted road, which was more dirt than gravel, not to mention the towering trees beside it. We were so close to landing I had no time to prepare for impact. Which was nice in a way. At least I didn’t have to worry about whether it would hurt more to break my neck on the road or crush my skul against a tree trunk.
“Shit!”
I tightened my arm around Jack. Made sure the other was strong on the handlebars but ready to bend if adjustments were necessary. I tightened my thighs around the cycle and leaned forward, pressing against Jack to give him more security when we dropped. And it came so fast. Suddenly our wheels were on the ground. We were going too fast, I knew that, but for a couple of seconds I stil thought we were going to make it.
