“Idiots,” Bare Snow murmured. “They sprang the attack too soon. They should have waited. Once the city returns to Earth, Wolf Who Rules will be without magic, and defenseless.”
Chartiers Creek fed into the Ohio River at McKees Rocks a few miles away. The safety of the Rim lay just across the river. The only safe crossing was the McKees Rocks Bridge. There was a little-known railroad bridge at Brunots Island, but she doubted the viceroy—on the run for his life—would think of it. No, he’d head for the massive stone bridge, lit up for barges on the river and any random plane to see.
Law glanced at her phone. They had less than thirty minutes. “Those dogs are still hunting the viceroy. They haven’t caught him yet. We need to find him.”
Bare Snow shook her head. “He has every reason not to trust me and none to believe you. He’s too dangerous to approach. He’ll kill anyone he thinks is part of this trap.”
There was a sudden flash of lightning and an immediate boom of thunder.
“Right. Keep our distance from the male throwing lightning.”
Law had enough experience with traps to know all their frailties. Even brainless crayfish would escape their cage once all the bait was eaten. She and Bare Snow had the element of surprise on their side. The joy of being quirky-odd was that, even when the jerks saw her coming, they had no idea how much trouble they were in. A lesbian, a porcupine, and an underage assassin. No, there was no way these guys knew what was about to hit them.
They caught up to the first SUV on Creek Road.
Law drove up out of Chartiers Creek just before the water deepened. She plowed through an old chain link fence and fishtailed onto the narrow gravel road that ran along the stream.
She knew she should be screaming scared, but the cool electric rush was settling in. A righteous fight was like hooking a big fish. There was a thrill in the battle. It was as addictive as any drug. That these scumbags were out en masse hunting a young male and meant to frame an innocent female for his murder, she felt nothing but righteousness about any damage she dealt out.
She caught the gleam of lights off the creek; there was a car ahead on the road. She flicked off her headlights and used the part in the trees fringing the road, revealing the lighter night sky, to navigate. The road was narrow and rough, just a car-wide beaten path. Around a bend in the creek, where the channel narrowed and grew deeper, the road widened. One of the white SUVs was trying to turn around, taking advantage of the grassy bank where locals fished for river sharks. Even in the distance, Law could make out the lighted license plate. It was BAS-0053. It was one of the EIA unmarked cars.
She threw the Dodge into low gear and stomped on the gas. At the last moment, she blared her horn, seconds before ramming the SUV broadside. The Dodge’s grill guard rammed into the lighter truck even as its driver instinctively steered away. The SUV rolled down the bank to vanish into the water, upside down. Only the gleam of its headlights marked it in the glittering darkness of the creek. A large dark figure of a river shark cut through the beams of light.
“That should keep them busy.” Law backed up and straightened out on the road.
“Awesome possum.” Bare Snow breathed the phrase that she must have learned from the half-elf babies.
Law flicked her lights back on and roared down the little dirt road. She knew the feeling racing through her like electricity. She got this every time she went snarling out to save some girl from a bad situation. There was no murky doubt or fear, just bold determination and a sense of right that made the rest of her life seem like she was barely alive.
She realized that up to this point, all the pressure to conform, to be what other people wanted her to be, had been a huge mountain pressing down on her. It was only at moments like this—when the scales shifted so that what was at stake was someone’s life—that she knew, regardless of what everyone else wanted of her, her life made sense. She didn’t need to live in a house, have a dog as a pet, work nine to five with a boss telling her what to do, paint her fingernails, fuss with her hair, and lust after some male that would complete her life. All that overwhelming messy little shit didn’t matter anymore. She could be herself, completely and totally, and life was good.
She laughed at the knowledge that risking her life was easier than living it.
They caught the second SUV on the bare shoulder of the road, a mile down. It sat a dozen feet from the stop sign where Creek Road branched. The graveled street changed names to Thompson Avenue as it ducked under a low-slung iron railroad bridge to continue following Chartiers Creek or turned sharply and went up the hill. The SUV’s interior light was on; its driver was struggling with an actual paper map. The Earth-bound freight train was rumbling over the bridge, drowning out the Dodge’s approach.
The map and the train combined to explain why the SUVs were on the odd back roads. McKees Rocks was bisected by the railroad tracks. While a person on foot could scramble between the slow-moving train cars, the SUVs needed to find ways under or over the train. There were only three points were a car could cross and they were nearly a mile apart. The question became: which side of the tracks was Windwolf? The hounds were howling nearby but the sound echoed in the river valley, making it difficult to pinpoint their direction.
Luckily, Law didn’t have to find Windwolf to protect him. She only had to derail his killers. She swung in a wide half-circle and rammed the SUV into the driver’s door. The Dodge shuddered at the impact, but dug in all four back tires and heaved. The SUV slid on the gravel and then on the grass creek bed beyond. It tipped beyond its center of gravity and tumbled down the bank. It splashed into the dark water.
Her grandfather must be spinning up to mach speed in his grave.
Two down. Two to go. Unfortunately, with the name change, the Creek Road turned to follow the train tracks. There would be no more ramming cars into the water.
Betting that Windwolf wouldn’t know McKees Rocks any better than his attackers, Law crossed under the railroad bridge. The viceroy had to be playing a cautious game of cat and mouse, since he had no way of knowing how many people were chasing after him or how heavily armed they were. The east side of the tracks was known as the Bottoms. It was a flat and desolate area, prone to flooding during the spring thaw. Many of the buildings had been abandoned before the first Startup; part and parcel of Pittsburgh’s steel-mill age. The only businesses left in the area were a large railroad yard and a sprawling junkyard. It was a maze of hiding spaces. More importantly, it was the shortest distance to the McKees Rocks Bridge.
Law checked the clock again. Minutes were left before Pittsburgh returned to Earth. The hunting dogs were baying close by. They were still miles from the Rim; Windwolf was going to be stranded on the wrong world. She still didn’t have a good solid plan beyond “whack them hard.” It probably was a good time to start thinking of one.
Obviously she needed to nail the other SUVs before the scattered pieces realized that they were under attack.
A few blocks down she found one of the Fords sitting empty under a lone streetlamp. Law tucked the Dodge in among sumac brushes growing in an old gravel parking lot, thirty feet from the Explorer. The white SUV gleamed bright in the pool of light. Its back hatch hung open, but the SUV had sat long enough for the timer on the lights to click off.
Focused on the Explorer, Law missed Bare Snow’s cowboy boots coming off. She became aware that the female was undressing as the elf shimmied off her underwear. “What are you—whoa!”