The Liberator

Salem looks at me. “To get her to hurt herself.”

I yank my fist back to break his jaw but hear a loud smack before my hand connects with his face. Glancing to my left, I see Charlie shaking her hand out, her face flushed with fury.

I barely have time to process that my girlfriend punched Salem in the face before Blue calls out. I spot Easton backing away from Blue along the ground and getting to his feet. His eyes seek out Charlie, and like a rabid animal, he charges toward her.

Cocking my arm, I rush forward and land a shot clean into Easton’s temple. Salem slams into my back at the same time that someone yells from beside us.

Even from the ground, I can see it’s Aspen and Annabelle piled into Blue’s rental car. Aspen’s window is rolled down, and Annabelle is reaching behind her to throw open the back door. Though I’m laid out, I watch as Blue grabs Charlie’s hand and races toward the car. He gets her inside and turns back toward me. Salem yanks me to my feet, and a fully recovered Easton plows his fist into my stomach. I double over and groan, wondering how the hell I’m going to get out of here. Not really caring if I do as long as the others are safe.

I plan to wave Aspen on, to tell them to get out of here now. But when I look up, I see Blue churning toward the brothers like a tsunami. He slams into Salem, who’s holding me upright, and it’s just enough time for me to lay into Easton. I only hit him once, then grab Blue’s shoulder and run for the sedan.

“Start driving, start driving,” I yell to Aspen as we race toward her.

She pushes down on the accelerator, just enough to get the car moving. Seconds later, I dive into the backseat and nearly land on top of Charlie. Blue smashes into me, and Aspen peels out of the parking lot, fishtailing on ice as Blue yanks the door shut behind him.

When I feel the tires hit the road, I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Is anyone badly hurt?” I direct the question to everyone, but I’m looking at Charlie, wrapping my arms around her, touching each place I can to make sure she’s whole. She presses against me, and our eyes never waver.

No one says anything for a moment.

Finally, Blue exclaims, “Holy crap.”

“Right? That mess was crazy,” I say, still looking at Charlie. A bubble of laughter builds in my chest, though I know it’s more from nerves than actual humor.

“No, look,” Blue barks, pointing behind us. “Isn’t that your rental car?”

I turn to look and catch sight of my lime-green Kia Rondo zipping toward us.

“That damn car,” I mumble. The assholes must have gotten my keys during the scuffle. When I reach into my back pocket, I find that’s not the only thing I lost—my ivory horn is gone. “Aspen, you’re going to have to step on it.”

Aspen glances in the rearview mirror. “Believe it or not, that POS may be able to outrun us.”

I jerk around to look at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That car couldn’t outrun a wheelchair.”

“Actually, it has a similar engine as this car, and it’s lighter. So yeah, it could.”

“Just drive, woman,” I snap, noticing how fast their headlights are gaining on us.

Aspen doesn’t say anything. When I turn back around, I notice her gloved hands are gripping the wheel tighter than before.

“What are we going to do?” Annabelle whispers.

Aspen switches on the radio and flips the stations until she finds what she’s looking for.

“What are you doing?” I yell. “Stop messing around.”

Heavy, grinding rock blasts through the speakers as Aspen pushes the car faster. “We can’t outrun them. Not even with me driving. But we can keep pace for a while. Long enough.”

“Long enough for what?” Charlie says. Her voice is even and controlled, and I can’t help staring at her, wondering how she can be so calm.

“To get back to my house,” Aspen says.

“The cabin? “ Blue asks.

“No.” Aspen turns the volume up.

“We’re going to drive all the way back to Denver?” I ask, watching the headlights behind us, steady in their pursuit. “That’ll take almost an hour.”

“It won’t take near that long,” she says over the music. “And in the meantime, you guys can tell me what I’m running from.”

17 Gone

The car rushes forward as Aspen awaits our response.

Blue and I stare at each other, and finally, he shrugs. So I tell Aspen what we are. I tell her about Trelvator, and how these guys want to steal Charlie’s soul from me, and that I came to Denver on assignment to liberate her soul.

I tell her everything.

At first she doesn’t believe us. Then Blue shows her his shadow, and when his body vanishes, Aspen nearly runs off the road. In retrospect, it may not have been our most brilliant plan.

“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Aspen says when I finish talking.

“Just keep driving.” I look behind us and notice the headlights of the Kia Rondo are still visible. But despite Aspen’s earlier doubt, she’s managed to put some distance between the two cars.

“So these guys want Charlie’s soul?” Aspen clarifies.

“Yeah,” I say. “But when we asked them, they said their orders were to get Charlie to hurt herself, which doesn’t make sense, because if the collectors don’t have her soul, then why would they risk her dying before they got it back?”

Blue glances at me, worry creasing his brow. He looks away before I can question his expression.

“Maybe they thought if she got injured, I’d return to Alabama, and they’d snag her soul then. ’Course, that doesn’t make sense, because they could come after me here in Colorado.”

I say all this while staring at Blue. He turns even farther toward the window until it seems like he’s trying to hump the passenger door.

Every muscle in my body clenches as I say, “The only other explanation would be if I didn’t actually have Charlie’s soul.”

Blue turns and meets my glare.

“And that Salem and his brother,” I continue, “were trying to get Charlie to kill herself. Because if they already have her soul, that’d be a great way to bring in her body next. No blood on their hands, nothing Big Guy can complain about, and hell gets what it wants—an end to Trelvator and a big screw-you to the god who ordained her birth.” I finish my speech but keep my gaze locked on Blue’s face. Despite a lump building in my throat, I manage to squeeze out, “How am I doing here?”

Blue holds my stare for a moment longer. Then his eyes drop to the floor.

I press back against the seat. Dark spots swim before my eyes, and the only thing that keeps me from losing it is Charlie’s hand wrapped around mine.

Concentrating on breathing, I say, “I don’t have her soul.”

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you,” Blue says.

“When did you find out?” My free hand curls into a fist. Though I’m shocked to hear the truth, I always wondered about the sensation of Charlie’s soul inside me. I knew something felt off. Souls are difficult to detect inside a collector’s body once collected, but I always thought I’d perfected the skill of knowing. Flashing back to the airport before I left Alabama, I remember Valery making up lame excuses for why I couldn’t check her soul into heaven yet. I suppose being misled and wishful thinking went a long way in this situation.

I also suddenly remember the night I faced off with Rector and the other collectors, how Rector briefly pressed his chest to mine before fleeing.