“Liar,” he said.
May fought the wheel, trying to steer. She was being too delicate about it. We’d be lucky if they didn’t catch us before we got off the bridge. “Toby!”
I squirmed around to get a better look at the Riders behind us, snapping, “Just drive!”
“Why me?” she wailed.
“Because if you don’t, we’re all going to die!” There was something ironic about forcing my Fetch to save my life, but I could dwell on that later, after we’d survived the experience.
May stared at me, then nodded and slammed her foot down on the gas. At least she knew which pedals to use. The car roared like a wounded beast and leaped forward, accelerating at a distinctly unsafe speed. Finally.
If I even suspected that my driving was half as bad as hers you’d never get me behind the wheel of a car again. She rode wild across all four lanes of traffic, weaving between cars that couldn’t see through the Luidaeg’s don’t-look-here spell and thus didn’t realize we were there. It was a good thing, too; if they’d been able to see us, we’d have caused more than a few accidents. More and more of the children were screaming. I understood the sentiment.
Connor pulled his hand out of mine and covered his face, closing his eyes. I glanced at him, trying to pretend that I wasn’t clinging to Spike for dear life. “Coward.”
“Your point?” he muttered, not looking up. I sighed. Fine. If he wanted to be that way, it was no skin off my nose. I looked to the rearview mirror to check on the locations of the Riders and smiled. My plan was working; they were still behind us, but our lead was growing because May’s driving was too erratic for them to predict. Drivers— even faerie drivers—usually follow the rules of the road out of a sense of self-preservation. May, well … May didn’t.
I’ve been driving since I went to work for Devin, and May knew everything I did. Thing is, watching a surgeon on TV doesn’t make you a doctor. It just means you know what surgery looks like. May didn’t have my muscle memory. She’d actually driven a car all of once, during the relatively simple trip from the Luidaeg’s apartment to Shadowed Hills, and even then she’d shown a dismaying tendency to drive the wrong way down one-way streets, ignore traffic lights, and attempt to use the sidewalk as an extra lane. Now …
Given free rein on the open highway, May was embracing her inner race car driver. It didn’t help that she had no idea how to control her speed, and was thus opting for as fast as the car will go. The children’s screaming tapered off as they stared out the windows, awed. They’d probably never been in a car that was trying to break the laws of physics before. I was just afraid they were going to learn what a twelve-car pileup looked like, from the bottom.
Andrew had his nose pressed against the glass, watching wide-eyed as the Riders began closing the distance between us. “Look, Auntie Birdie,” he said, “the men are going faster.”
“That’s nice, Andy,” I said, finally letting go of Spike. It climbed over the seat to curl up in Jessica’s lap. She was one of the few that was still asleep. I hoped she’d stay that way. If the screams hadn’t been enough to wake her, maybe she would.
“They’re followin’ us.”
“Yes, they are.” They were getting closer fast, weaving in and out of traffic with a speed my little VW couldn’t hope to match. I tried to run down my options and couldn’t think of any. We had no place to go. We’d outrun them, or we’d die.
He turned to look at me, frowning. “Why?”
“Because they’re mad at me, sweetie. Now hold on tight, okay?”
He smiled at me, nodding. “Okay.” I love kids. They’re endlessly adaptable, and not as breakable as we think.
My Fetch wasn’t handling things nearly as well. She swerved between two trucks with a heart-stopping squeal of the brakes, wailing, “Am I doing this right?”
“You’re doing fine! Keep driving!” Maybe I was afraid she’d kill us all, but I was a lot more worried about Blind Michael’s men. They weren’t the sort who’d negotiate once they’d run us to ground. They might be willing to lop our heads off and take them home as trophies instead of torturing us, but that was probably about it.
“Aunt Birdie? What’s going on?”
I winced at the sound of Jessica’s voice. “Honey, just hold on. We’re on the way home.”
“Aunt Birdie—”
“Not now, sweetheart!”
“The bridge is ending! The bridge is ending!” May shouted, slamming her foot down harder. The car sped up. I hadn’t known that was possible. “Now what do I do?”
“Take the first exit!” I turned to look out the windshield, bracing my hands against the dashboard. “Turn right and head toward the warehouses when you get off the bridge!”
May nodded, nearly falling over as she dragged the wheel to the right. The car wasn’t cooperating, and I couldn’t blame it; if she’d been trying to steer me, I wouldn’t have been terribly cooperative either. Connor whimpered, squeezing his eyes more tightly shut as we swerved off the bridge and down the street, barely avoiding a collision with a commuter bus. Five of the Riders managed to change direction and follow us; the other two missed the turn and went shooting off down the bridge, trapped in the flow of traffic.
“Two down!” I shouted, jubilant. “Take the first right and floor it!” Turning, I elbowed Connor. “Look for things to throw.”
He uncovered his face, eyeing me. “What?”
“Look for things to throw out the window. Clothes. Cans. Whatever.”
“Why?”
“Distraction!” The rest of the explanation was lost as May found the turn and roared around it without slowing down. For one dizzy moment it felt like the car was going to flip over. I fell back against my seat, accompanied by a chorus of giggles and cheers from the back. At least some of us were enjoying the ride. Turning my attention back to the windshield, I choked. We were driving straight for a brick wall, and May wasn’t stopping. I caught my breath, and shrieked, “Turn around! Turn around! Turn around!”
She turned and blinked, keeping the gas pedal pressed down hard. “What?”
In unison, Connor and I shouted,
“Okay …” May shrugged as she looked back to the road, and then yelped in surprise. “Toby, there’s a wall!”
At least one of us was surprised. I slammed my fists down on the dashboard, yelling, “Turn around turn around!”
That got through. She hauled on the wheel, sending us into a wide spin. Andrew tumbled away from the window, slipping out of his seat belt, and bowled Raj over. The two of them landed in a heap on top of one of the smaller Cait Sidhe. She started to howl, surprised, and the rest of the children joined in. The noise startled May enough that she pulled us out of our spin and into a smooth turn.
You can say anything you want about the Volkswagen bug, but never, ever claim that it doesn’t have a good turning radius. We somehow avoided slamming into anything, instead winding up pointing toward the mouth of the alley we’d mistakenly tried to use as a getaway route. Problem: the five remaining Riders were lined up across the alley’s mouth, blocking our escape.
And May still had her foot on the gas.
What followed was a quick and dirty lesson in the law of relative mass. The Riders were fierce, armed, and possibly deadly; they were riding magical horses that could move as fast or faster than a car and were a lot more maneuverable. These were all things to their advantage. We had a hysterical Selkie, an age-slipped changeling, and a car being driven by someone who had no concept of her own mortality. Guess who had the overall advantage?
We plowed into the Riders at almost full speed, hitting one while two others dove out of the way, losing control of their mounts in the process. The illusions on the two freed horses dissolved, the motorcycles replaced by fae steeds who wheeled and fled.
Only two Riders were left as we pulled out onto the street, and they were following at a cautious distance. “Connor, give me something to throw,” I said, rolling down the window.
“Like what?”
