It was a fair point.
“Arbent, call your girl. Tell her what’s up.”
“No longer my girl,” he muttered with a grimace but pulled out his phone. While he made the call, I turned to Jethrow. “We’re going to need the Elders to take this lady down. I know you have most of them on speed dial. As soon as we figure out where she’s headed, call them.”
“You don’t want to wait and take some of them with us?”
“We don’t have time. Father Pierce is in jeopardy.”
“Okay.”
I still wasn’t accustomed to Jethrow being so agreeable, but was grateful for it.
“Heidi will notify the right folks,” Arbent said, hanging up. “She’ll listen to the radio chatter as well and call me if she hears anything.”
“Sorry to force that on you,” I said, feeling guilty.
He darkened. “Rancin just killed a bunch of people. Talking with my ex-girlfriend is a small price for payback.”
In the background, cameras came alive, snapping pictures of the carnage.
I turned to the group. “I don’t want any of your blood on my hands, so nobody move against Rancin unless you’re forced to, okay? First priority is to protect her hostage. Then we worry about her. Understood?”
Everyone nodded.
“Good. Let’s go get this bitch.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Oak Hill
We passed through the opening in the wall, then through another that Rancin had blasted in the exterior of the building. Tires squealed and we watched as a small car tore around the corner in the distance.
“Valet,” I said, running to the front of the building.
Two of the men were curled into the fetal position while one stood, staring after the departing car. Mick checked on the wounded. Thankfully, the worst was a fractured arm.
I scanned the cars in front of the building. Like most higher-end places, the valets parked the extra-sexy vehicles out front. Not only did it mean bragging rights for the drivers, but higher tips for the attendants. One of the spaces was empty.
“Did some old lady dragging a priest just steal a car?” I asked the dazed employee.
He nodded absently.
I pointed at a pair of vehicles. “Give us those two. Now.”
The guy handed me two sets of keys without saying a word.
I tossed the BMW set to Arbent. “Dibs on the Aston.”
Helga trotted to the Beemer. “Rancin will be hard to follow.”
“Not if we move quickly,” Quinn said, pointing in the direction the Elder went. “She’s bleeding emotions. I can sense them.”
Something about the confidence in her tone struck me. Quinn was guarded in public, so sharing this information must have been hard. But she was doing so willingly. Perhaps I wasn’t the only one who’d changed over the past few months.
And I’d support her no matter what.
“Good enough for me,” I said. “Let’s ride, people.”
My date slid into the passenger seat while the rest of our ad hoc team piled into the Beemer. I fired the DBS’s engine to life, soaking in the roar of all twelve valves.
“I would sell both kidneys to own this,” I said, savoring the tingling sensation the rumble generated in my butt. Then I pushed my momentary enjoyment aside. “Okay, where to, babe?”
Quinn pointed east. “That way. And drive it like you stole it.”
I punched the gas and the DBS jerked forward like a rocket. Quinn and I were snapped back in our seats as we left an inch of rubber on the pavement.
“Maybe a little smoother?” she asked, gripping the door.
I backed off the accelerator, but kept a decent pace as we wound through the Georgetown University complex toward the exit. Quinn closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, then reopened them. Her irises were masked by swirling, gray clouds. It was sexy and a little unnerving.
“Turn right,” she said as we approached Reservoir Road. I pulled the DBS onto the narrow street. Arbent was on my heels.
I glanced at my date as we tore down the pavement.
“So how are you doing this? Is it tied to Shadow Dancing?”
She shook her head. “Tracking. Rancin is angry and terrified. Her emotions are pouring out of her like a waterfall, which means she’s leaving a trail. It’s faint, but I can sense it.”
Her comments surprised me. The only people I knew who could do something like that were professional Hunters. Even then, it took years of training to be able to pursue a target based on their emotional footprints.
Was this one of the reasons why she’d been absent recently?
“Turn right.”
I slowed, but only slightly as I yanked the car onto Wisconsin Avenue.
Quinn stared straight ahead, focusing on whatever ethereal trail she was picking up. “Rancin is panicking. Her path is circuitous, but seems headed in a general direction. It’s as if she has a target in mind, but is unfamiliar with this end of town.”
“Do you know the destination?”
“No, but it’s obvious she’s not fleeing. If she were, she’d have made a straight line out of the city. If anything, she’s headed deeper into it. Left!”
I slammed on the brakes and Arbent nearly sucked face with our trunk. I allowed several cars to pass us going the other way, but finally cut off a teeny city-mobile. The driver honked his pathetic horn, which faded into the distance as we tore down Q Street.
As we barreled down the road, Quinn drew her Elven knife. The blade was sharp enough to punch through the armor of a tank. She flipped it in her hands, then began cutting her gorgeous gown just above the knee.
“Wrong dress for a fight,” she muttered as I struggled to keep my eyes on the road. When she finished, she shoved the unnecessary fabric onto the floorboard and slipped the knife back into the sheath.
I forced myself to stare at the road and not at my date’s long, smooth legs. “How we doing, babe?”
“Still in her wake.”
“Where the hell are you headed, Rancin?” I muttered aloud, dodging a pedestrian who didn’t bother to look before stepping into the road.
As we sped down Q Street, the cute brownstone homes were nothing more than a blur in the streetlights. Large trees lined the sidewalks on either side, their branches creating a pretty, deciduous tunnel. Occasionally, I weaved us around a poorly parked car or van on the side of the road.
“This must be how Wedge felt in trenches of the Death Star,” I said.
“Not Luke or Han?” Quinn asked, still concentrating on the invisible trail she was sensing.
“Wedge has always been my favorite character in the series. No special powers, just a hell of a good pilot. Survived the original trilogy
and
blew up two Death Stars. When I walked away from my training, he was living proof that I didn’t need my Skill to still be a hero.”
I slowed for a stop sign, but blew through when I didn’t see traffic on the cross street.
“You know it’s just a movie, right?”
I scowled at her. “Woman, I will break up with you if you keep talking like that.”
Quinn chuckled, then grew serious once more. “Trail is weakening.”
We rocketed through a second stop sign, then a third.
She whipped her head around as we passed a street. “Dammit! We should have made a left back there.”
“There’s another road up ahead.” I flipped my blinker, then squealed the tires as we ignored our fourth stop sign and pulled onto 28th Street. “Anything?”
She shook her head. “Take the next cross street back toward the direction we were coming.”
“You don’t want me to do a U-turn?”
“No, retracing our steps will only allow the trail to run cold. This one at least parallels her path.”
“You’re the navigator,” I said and punched the gas.
We flew down 28th Street like a pair of hellions, swerving to avoid cars and pedestrians like we were playing
Frogger
. I kept searching for a turn, but the road just kept on going.
Until it didn’t.
I jerked the wheel as 28th Street made a ninety-degree curve and became R Street. The Aston stuck to the pavement like glue, whipping around the bend and gliding down R Street like a six-figure chariot.
“Stop!” Quinn snapped.
I hit the brakes, standing the DBS on its front wheels. The Beemer rounded the corner, pulling up behind us. Doors kicked open and combatants poured from the vehicle.
Helga was the first out of the Beemer. “Dammit, that car was not designed to hold six people.”
A curious head poked out of the first set of townhouses, but Quinn and I ignored the man as we exited the car.
“What’s up?” Arbent asked, jogging over to us as the rest of his crew unfolded from his car.
Quinn pointed at the large, black iron gates. “There.”
Helga turned toward the fence. “Up and over, eh?”
“Hang on a sec.” I pulled out my phone and fired up the map function. The little dot blinked at our location. I zoomed out, then cursed.
Quinn looked over my shoulder. “Marcus?”
“This is Oak Hill Cemetery.”
Arbent frowned. “So?”
“The stable rifts we encountered this week were all opened near a cemetery. And small ones at that. This,” I pointed at the fence, “is huge. We’re talking acres of dead bodies.”
A muscle in Arbent’s jaw twitched. “This isn’t going to be a zombie fight, is it?”
I shook my head. “It’s not the bodies, but the residual energy inherent to cemeteries. If Rancin is trying to open another rift, she’ll have far more power to tap into here.”
“Dammit,” he said with a scowl.
“My thoughts exactly,” I said. Then to Jethrow, “Call it in.”
“Already done.”
I nodded, then launched myself at the fence, scaling over the pointed tips with a slight boost from my Skill. I braked my descent, landing heavily on the other side. Quinn and the others cleared the fence easily, touching down gracefully on the soft grass with a quiet thump.
“Show offs,” I muttered.
“Where to?” Arbent asked.
Quinn pointed at the small, blue disk in the distance.
Sweat slid down my cheek. The thought of facing Rancin in combat scared the crap out of me. Not only had she blasted her way through some of the best Skilled warriors, she’d opened a rift that, from the looks of it, was stable.
I’d just struggled to use my Skill to climb a fence. What chance did I have of making a difference?
Realistically...none. But at least I was willing to admit my limitations. With any luck, we wouldn’t have to worry about that.
I really hoped luck would be on our side with this one.
“Arbent, you’re the most experienced combatant here. You take the lead.”
“Right.” He waved everyone over. “Okay, people, we’re splitting into teams. Marcus and Quinn have point. Mick and I will be on their flank. Thetra, you have Reagan, Helga and Jethrow. Come at Rancin from the backside of the rift. I’m going to create a three-way call so we can all communicate,” he added, pulling his phone out once again. Thetra and I waited as he synced our phones up, then tested to make sure we were all connected. Satisfied, he handed them back.
“Keep this line open. Once you’re in position, let me know. To reiterate Marcus’s warning back at the ballroom, our first option is to wait for the heavy guns to get here. If we have to move against Rancin to protect Father Pierce, then I’ll give the order and we’ll attack as one. First order of business is his safety. After that, take Rancin alive if able. She resists? You butcher her without hesitation. Any questions?”
No one said anything.
“Good luck and get moving.”
The foursome sprinted silently down the fence line for several meters before disappearing into the heart of the cemetery. Once they were gone, Quinn drew her sword while I pulled my Glock, and confirmed I was Condition One. We gave Arbent a thumbs-up, then our group began leap-frogging forward. We stayed low, utilizing the various tombstones and grave monuments for cover.
After a dozen meters, Mick and Arbent broke off, leaving Quinn and me to proceed directly at the rift on our own. The rough cobblestone paths were uneven in spots and slippery with the moisture of humidity. After the third time of nearly twisting an ankle, we opted to keep to the grass as much as possible.
“This is not one of my better plans,” I muttered as the blue disk pulsed in the distance.
Slipping through the old mausoleums and moss-covered headstones, I felt the energy from the ground beneath my feet pressing against my Skill. In many ways, cemeteries carried a power similar to the barrier a person created in their home. When someone died, the majority of his or her persona departed in a matter of hours, which was why Necromancers preferred fresh bodies to rotting husks.
I think smell had something to do with it as well.
But although most of the power dissipated from a corpse rather quickly, trace elements remained for years. As the body slowly decayed, that power trickled out and was absorbed into the land around it.
Given enough time and space, cemeteries became one of the most potent sources of raw energy around. One of the many jobs of the Necromancers was to monitor and, if necessary, tamp down these powder kegs.
Sadly, the Skilled resources were limited, so there was no way to monitor every cemetery on the planet.
And Oak Hill was one of those under the radar.
Part of that was because of its seclusion. Few people, Normal or Skilled, knew about or, quite frankly, cared about the place. Places like Oak Hill simply did not warrant attention when a mega-locale like Arlington National Cemetery was just across the river.
No wonder Rancin had chosen it. With almost twenty-two acres of land along Rock Creek, it was packed with bodies. The ground literally hummed as the rift before us fed off the energy.
Apparently I’d need to have a chat with the Council Necromancers about their priorities.
Assuming any of us survived, of course.
“Keep an eye out,” I said to Quinn as we zigzagged through the headstones.
“For what?”
In the distance, the frequency of the light coming from the rift increased. “Anything.”
As we drew closer, the air around us changed from warm humidity to the cold, sickening heaviness I remembered. Just like the one in Maryland, it radiated blinding, blue light. The reality around it stretched and groaned, but the opening didn’t carry the same angry tear like I was used to seeing. Instead, the edges were neat and trim as if cut by a surgeon.