Come on, I begged in my mind. Come on, come on.
We neared the door. Somehow, providence held, and we reached it.
I heard Max give a bellow from the kitchen just as I opened the door and shoved outside. And then? Then he started chasing again. I felt his pounding footfall like a hammer between my eyes.
“Come on,” I screamed at Bridgette.
Though she was still unquestionably injured, somehow she managed to find the strength to pull away from me and shove forward, leaving me the energy to run and run.
I put everything into the move, powered forward with all my friggin’ might. I focused on the car. It was parked right outside of the house. And considering Bridgette had zero problem parking on the pavement, she’d driven right up onto the curb until we were just half a meter from the front gate.
I let my universe narrow down until that front gate was all there was. I blanked out Max’s bellowing scream from behind me. He no longer sounded like a man; he was a caricature of pure rage. And with every second, he was closing the gap between us until he was right there – right behind us.
Bridgette reached a hand into her pocket. Before I knew what she was doing, she removed something from it, and she twisted on her foot, throwing it behind her.
My grandmother’s yard was dotted with old, gnarled oak trees and a few elms here or there. The oaks had twisted, large branches, some of them big enough to squash a car flat, let alone a man.
Bridgette, showing hand-eye coordination that belonged in the goddamn Olympics, threw the object from her pocket right at one of those branches. It exploded in a charge of magical sparks so bright they could have rivaled fireworks.
The branch broke with an echo of splitting wood. It sailed down and pinned Max.
Just before my heart could give a shudder at the fact he could be dead, I heard him let out another splitting bellow of rage.
I felt Bridgette grab a shaking hand onto my arm, and she pulled me toward the car with the last of her strength.
She got in the passenger seat, though fell was a more appropriate verb.
I pushed around to the driver’s seat and allowed myself one single second to stare out at Max. I waited until I saw him shove the branch off his body with preternatural strength. Though my heart shouldn’t have, it gave a relieved shudder at the fact he wasn’t dead. He was my enemy – I goddamn knew that. And yet that knowledge couldn’t touch my heart. Because I knew, no matter how evil the bastard was, a part of him was Max. And I was prepared to do anything to save that part.
I gunned the engine and shot out from the curb just as Max made it past the broken picket fence.
I swerved to the left before an arc of magic struck the car. I didn’t have to use my abilities as a seer – just my luck. It was enough. With a shrieking, spinning turn, I drove out of sight.
Bridgette had collapsed in the seat beside me, and I focused all my attention on my hearing as I tried to make out her breath. A second later, I heard it, but it was ragged, choppy as if she could barely find the strength to move her diaphragm up and down, let alone fight her injuries.
I took my eyes off the road for half a second and stared over at her. Her middle was absolutely covered in blood, and I swore I could see the gap in her belly where her injury would be. There was a bump in the fabric of her top like it was pulled over a chasm.
“Oh god,” I stuttered. “You’re so injured. Crap, what do I do?” I took one of my hands off the wheel to try to clamp down on her bleeding.
She gently grabbed my wrist. “I’ve got this,” she said in a falsely calm and strong tone. “Just concentrate on driving. I doubt that bastard’s just going to let us go.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. There was absolutely no way McCain was done with us yet. Or should I say me? I didn’t need to be a seer to know that he would turn this town upside down to get to me, destroying everything in his path until he finally had the future he’d always desired.
For the first time since I’d seen him in the attic, I let my mind actually entertain the fact I’d never been in a situation like this, faced danger like this. My fight with the Lonely King had been completely different. If I didn’t use every tool at my disposal to fight McCain and save Max, I wouldn’t just be a goner – I would become an automaton for the rest of my life. Worse than that, I’d give McCain the power he’d always sought and always required to take over the world. You might think that sounded overly dramatic, and hey, I would be the first to admit that taking over the world was kind of James Bond. But as I cast my mind back to McCain’s fury, and my body remembered just how much power it had felt lapping off him, I realized that was a distinct possibility. The Lonely King may have been a truly powerful sorcerer, but he was no McCain.
Bridgette quickly dwindled into silence. Even though I could tell she wanted to question me, she clearly didn’t have the energy.
I drove faster than I ever had in my life, and for the first time in days, I experienced some much-needed good luck. I didn’t come across any cop cars. I had absolutely
