Ascension: Nate Temple Series Book 13 Read online

  “Gunnar took it, remember?” Alucard interrupted. “Said he had an early meeting with the FBI guys tomorrow. Which is actually only a few hours from now.”

  “Shit,” I cursed, having forgotten all about that. “If we can get out of their spell, I can make a Gateway.”

  “We’re either ass-hauling or car-stealing,” Alucard said.

  “Car,” I said, scanning the abysmal selection before us—half of the vehicles were damaged or broken down with slipshod repairs. One was even on concrete blocks. A food truck stood at the back of the lot, and I noticed a large circular object on the roof, but I couldn’t tell what it was since the dim streetlight didn’t reach it.

  Achilles’ Heel wasn’t in a necessarily thriving part of town, but I did see a few promising potentials. “I bet they have more of those nullification brews to throw at us once we escape this area,” I said, waving a hand. “They’ll just keep moving the trap on us. That’s what I would—”

  “Duck!” War shouted, shoving me into Alucard as he dove the opposite direction. A glass vial struck the ground in an explosive thump that shattered the glass in every nearby vehicle and sent me and Alucard slamming into the side of a sedan.

  I climbed to my knees, ignoring the piercing ringing sound in my ears, and then used the bumper of the car to pull myself the rest of the way up. The force of the blast had tricked open the locking mechanism on the trunk so that it had sprung up, and I found myself staring at a long duffle bag full of sports gear.

  Lacrosse sticks stuck out of the unzipped end, and I wasted no time snatching them up. I shoved one into Alucard’s hands, startling him.

  “Catch and counter!” I snapped, holding my stick up.

  He blinked at me, shaking his head. I saw a drop of blood hanging from his earlobe and cursed, checking my own. Yep. Same.

  He said something to me, snatching up the lacrosse stick, but I couldn’t hear his voice over the ringing in my ears.

  The blast had deafened us. Hopefully, not permanently.

  I spotted War waving his arms at us to catch our attention. Once we turned to look, he shoved his head inside the broken window of a car, and I watched him frantically checking for keys. It only took him a second before he extracted himself, glanced up to check for any inbound witch bombs, and then he moved on to the next car.

  I turned to see Alucard nod at War’s suggestion before checking the front seat of the red sedan I’d just pillaged. I kept my eyes out, ready to catch anything else they threw at us, and hopefully throw it right back up their warty noses. I hadn’t realized how much I relied upon my hearing until it had been taken away. So my gaze darted back and forth frantically, terrified that I might miss something.

  I caught motion out of the corner of my eye and lunged out with the lacrosse stick to catch it.

  I missed.

  The blast sent me into a coughing fit, but at least it didn’t physically throw me anywhere or burn me to ashes. Although I did suddenly feel ridiculously dizzy, having to focus all of my attention on not falling down as the parking lot tilted crazily.

  Which was when the second glass vial hit the car behind me—only missing me because I’d stumbled forward, almost tripping over my own two feet as I fought to remain upright.

  This time, the blast sent me flying through the air, but not before washing over me in an icy splash that felt like I’d been hit with the world’s coldest water balloon. The chill leeched into my very bones so fast that when I hit a hard metal surface a few seconds later, I didn’t feel that much pain—just a sudden halt to my aerial flight.

  I sat on the ground, slightly dazed, but thankful that my balance was more easily managed with my ass firmly rooted to the ground. The frigid chill began to fade, so I assumed it had been an area spell, no longer affecting me the moment I left the impact zone. Alucard came sprinting up to me, but he dove over my shoulder rather than helping me to my feet.

  I now heard a distant roaring sound combining with the ringing sound in my ears, and I found myself hoping that it was a positive development—because I still couldn’t hear anything that was actually happening around me.

  I looked up to see that War stood out in the open with his cigar firmly wedged between his teeth, looking like a lunatic as he violently shook a lacrosse stick in one hand. He then began to spin in rapid quarter-circles, swiping his stick spastically as if he was trying to swat down an elusive bumblebee.

  The ringing in my ears seemed to be slowly fading, but the lack of voices made the whole thing strangely surreal, like I was watching one of those old silent black and white films.

  War abruptly lunged to the side and caught an unidentified flying object, bringing his lacrosse stick back to ride the momentum so the fragile glass didn’t explode in the net on the end of his stick. Then he whipped it forward with a suspiciously smooth grace, flinging it at—

  I blinked.

  A goddamned quidditch player was hovering on a broom about ten feet above a car. She wore leather pants and a flowing top, and she was hauntingly beautiful—with harsh cheekbones and long blonde hair. She looked like she should have been starting her first year of college.

  War’s return-volley struck her in that perfect face—again, with absolutely no sound that I could discern—and she instantly erupted in flames, her mouth flaring wide in a noiseless shriek. She crashed atop the car, thrashing and flailing, burning brighter and brighter before simply exploding into smoke.

  War was waving his lacrosse stick victoriously and puffing on the cigar still clamped in his teeth. He suddenly whipped his head around to stare over my shoulder, and I noticed an unhealthy splash of unrepentant madness in those Horseman eyes. Then he pointed his stick over my shoulder, pumped his fist, and began pounding my way, the tip of his cigar glowing brighter as he drew closer, trailing a thick streamer of smoke behind him like a coal—burning train.

  Something suddenly grabbed my shoulder, yanked me back, and lifted me up. I instantly began swinging my fists, startled by the sudden movement since I still couldn’t hear anything but the ringing and roaring sound in my ears.

  My foe swatted my hands away before shoving me in a new direction. I slid on my ass along a cold metal surface before bumping into a cheap wall that gave slightly under my weight. Boxes rained down on top of me, burying me instantly, and my sense of hearing continued its slow return.

  I started kicking my feet, desperate to break free of my prison and kick some witch ass, but the ground suddenly shifted, sending me and the boxes sliding forward to strike yet another wall.

  “Hold on!” Alucard shouted, sounding like he was far away.

  I swatted at the boxes, trying to get a look at what the hell kind of carnival ride I was on. A moment of clarity showed me that I was in the back of what looked like the food truck, Alucard was behind the wheel, and War was clambering up through a large hatch in the ceiling.

  Then Alucard floored it, and I went tumbling into the back of the food truck again, smashing through some of the boxes.

  “This is fucking ridiculous! Let me fucking get my bearings!” I shouted, swinging wildly to get free of the boxes and boxes of…

  I froze, blinking.

  “Donuts?” I asked, staring down at the pink frosting covering my fingers and hands. More frosting covered my jacket and jeans in a rainbow of fingerpaints and smudges. I even had a few smashed donuts stuck to my sleeve.

  Alucard swerved, but I managed to catch my balance this time, kicking my way clear of the rest of the baked goods. War was entirely out of the food truck now, surfing up top to battle the witches with his lacrosse stick, apparently.

  I tried to use my magic, but it was still no use. We must not have gotten very far yet. My hearing was coming back with a vengeance, because I could hear sirens, shouting, cackling laughter, and War screaming from beyond the open hatch. I stumbled towards the massive windshield and crouched down beside Alucard, slapping him on the thigh.

  “Hey! Can you hear me?” I shouted.


  “God damn!” he hissed, swerving sharply in surprise. “I’m right next to you!” he snapped, getting the truck back under control.

  “Good. What the hell happened?”

  “I was running over to help you when I saw the fucking keys just hanging from the ignition. I jumped over you to make sure the engine actually worked and then I hauled your ass inside.” He glanced down and snatched at my sleeve, plucking off a semi-squished chocolate glazed donut. “My favorite!”

  I swatted it out of his hand right as he tried to take a bite. “Donuts are for closers, and you haven’t gotten us out of this mess yet.”

  He hissed at me—which was remarkably un-frightening since his fangs still weren’t working.

  “How many witches are left?” I asked, not spotting any through the windshield, but still hearing their cackling laughter all around us and War’s shouts as the truck roared along at a blazingly fast forty miles per hour.

  “I think there are three more, but I didn’t get a good look. Why don’t you go up top or lean out the door so you can start throwing magic as soon as we get out of this damned anti-supernatural zone.”

  I nodded, choosing the floor-to-ceiling entrance and stairs that Alucard had used to haul me inside in the first place—which resembled the sliding, folding doors and stairs on most public buses. It was better than risking my life up top with nothing to hold onto for support.

  I found a lacrosse stick on the floor and scooped it up. While I gripped a support rail with one hand, I descended the stairs and wedged my feet firmly into place for additional security.

  Then I leaned my head out the open bus door for a quick glance and froze, ignoring the cool wind whipping at my hair.

  A witch sat on her broom, hovering about six feet to my right and a few feet above my head, keeping pace with the food truck. She, too, was beautiful—and practically a spitting image of the one who had caught fire outside the bar—except she wore a dated black dress with striped tights. She hadn’t seen me yet, and her feet hung low enough for me to reach with my lacrosse stick.

  It was my lucky day.

  Chapter 24

  I watched as she glared hatefully at War on top of the truck, hurling a small glass bottle and instantly cursing as she obviously missed.

  But hitting her with my stick wouldn’t be enough to get rid of her, so I hesitated, trying to think of something helpful I could do without my magic.

  I watched as she tugged on a strap hanging across her chest, and a freaking Kalashnikov plopped into her hands. Without thinking—and before she could bear down on War—I snagged her foot with the net on my lacrosse stick and yanked down as hard as I could.

  She shrieked, releasing the weapon to snatch onto the broom, which thankfully remained level with the top of the truck. I’d expected it to swoop underneath her to save her.

  I craned my neck towards Alucard. “I snagged one!” I shouted. “Find something to hit! They have freaking machine guns!”

  He grinned wickedly. “Construction zone!” he laughed, pointing ahead through the windshield. And he began slowly angling the truck towards a bunch of cones, concrete dividers, and heavy machinery parked on the shoulder.

  But bullets suddenly peppered the windshield as a second witch noticed her partner’s plight, darting ahead of our truck and maintaining the same speed. Another identical clone. What the hell? She sat backwards on her broom, grinning darkly as she continued to fly in front of—and a safe distance above—our food truck, taking careful aim with her machine gun…

  At me.

  Rather than freak out, I very pointedly blew her a big fat kiss. Her smile faltered, and she whipped her head around just in time to get a very close look at the huge, green, overhead traffic sign.

  It decapitated her without even suffering a dent, but her blood splattered across the passenger side of the windshield, making it impossible for me to see anything without looming over Alucard’s shoulder. A moment later, the truck ran over something big and squishy, and I had to fight to keep hold of my lacrosse stick as my witch screamed bloody murder, cursing in a strange language.

  “This truck isn’t passing a health inspection anytime soon,” Alucard murmured.

  I held on tightly to the lacrosse stick and the squawking witch I’d snared, frowning uneasily as I realized that we were no longer the only ones on the road. I spotted a baseball cap on the dashboard and cringed at the slogan.

  Show-Me Your O-Face.

  The logo was a crude stick figure with arms and fingers outstretched, its body shaped like the State of Missouri, and it had a large frosted donut for a head.

  I would never be able to read our state’s nickname—The Show-Me State—with the same level of pride I’d once had. The logo and slogan were forever imprinted directly onto my brain.

  But as I considered the growing number of cars, the fast-approaching police sirens, the wide-open door that gave every passing vehicle a full-body glamour shot of Nate Temple restraining a helpless woman with a lacrosse stick, and the fact that Gunnar had just told the FBI that I was overseas…

  I snatched up the hat and slapped it on, tugging the bill down as low as possible. The witch began to fight harder, kicking her feet wildly as she began to lose her grip on the broom. I tugged right back, hoping to dislodge her and send her crashing to the asphalt and directly under one of our tires, but she was resilient.

  Alucard suddenly switched lanes, almost sending me falling out the door, but I managed to catch myself and maintain my grip on the stick. I stared out the door, confused to suddenly see us slowly passing a starter home sitting on a trailer.

  “Shit. Police coming in hot behind us,” Alucard cursed. “We might have a minute before they’re on top of us.”

  And that’s when my magic suddenly woke back up inside me.

  Jesus. That had been one hell of a potion to cover such a large area. These witches hadn’t been messing around. I heard War shouting excitedly, obviously getting his powers back too. I also heard more gunfire from the other side of the food truck.

  I stared back out at the yellow starter home and a truly sinister thought slithered into my brain. “Pace this truck. Don’t pass it!” I snapped at Alucard.

  I ignored his sudden protests as I wedged my hip up against the end of the lacrosse stick, pinning it between me and the frame of the truck’s opening. Then I drew deep on my magic, filling myself to the brim. Once confident that I held slightly more than I thought I would actually need—just to be safe—I flung out a hand towards the starter home, latching onto the roof with a cord of air stronger than a hundred ropes of braided steel.

  The beautiful young witch stared at me in horror and I grinned, lifting up my other hand to aim at the tires on the side of the trailer.

  “Show-Me Your O-Face, witch!” I screamed at her.

  And I let loose great balls of fire at the tires, rocking the house downward at a sharp angle as the tires exploded and the rims slammed into the pavement with a shower of sparks. I simultaneously yanked down on my cord of air, using the momentum from the tilted trailer to bring the starter home crashing down onto the witch, squishing her onto the pavement.

  “What the fuck!” Alucard screamed.

  I hurled a razor-sharp blast of air at the tow-hitch connecting the truck to the totaled trailer, not wanting the driver to crash, and let out a sigh of relief as the truck wobbled dangerously but maintained control. He did slam on his brakes, though.

  I slapped a hand over my hat and leaned out to look back and witness the results of my hard work.

  And—I shit you not—I saw a pair of witch legs sticking out from beneath the house as it came to a grinding halt.

  War suddenly leaned over from the roof to stare down at me, his red hair whipping in the wind. “Did you just drop a house on her?” he asked incredulously.

  “Damn right I did!” I said smugly.

  He burst out laughing. “I took mine out, but those cops are awfully close. The house will slow them down, but th
ere’s no way we can outrun them in this hunk of junk.”

  “If you give me a minute, I can make a Gateway and get us the hell out of here. That house thing was a doozy.”

  He disappeared for a moment and then leaned back over from the roof to stare down at me. “There’s a giant donut on top of our truck. It’s barely hanging on after one of those witch bombs hit it.”

  I grinned, imagining sending a giant donut rolling down the street towards a cavalry of police vehicles. “Perfect. Break it free in ten seconds, and then get your ass down here as fast as you can!”

  He disappeared, and I quickly turned to Alucard. “Are you flooring it?” I asked him, counting down in my head.

  He nodded stiffly. “I’m giving it all she’s got.”

  “Okay. Keep it up but be ready to stop as fast as you can without killing us in the process.”

  He shot me a panicked look, but nodded, tightening his fingers on the wheel.

  Three…two…one…

  I heard a metallic clang, the sound of tearing metal, and then a heavy scraping sound across the roof.

  And then a crash as the donut struck the road.

  War dropped through the roof with a big grin on his face. “It’s rolling right for the police! Between the house and the donut, they don’t know what to do!” he shouted, laughing so hard that tears were leaking down his face—or maybe that was from the wind as he fought up top, because his mess of red hair looked like a second-hand batch of cotton candy.

  “Stop the truck, Alucard. I’m making a Gateway to get us the hell out of here.”

  The truck was heavy, so it took a few seconds to come to an uncomfortable, but manageable, stop, and I hopped out of the truck, making sure to keep my hat tugged low as I urged the others to hurry. I ripped open a Gateway as fast as I could, hesitating only a moment before I chose a safe destination.

  The cars all around us had already stopped to stare at the insanity we had caused—some of them had even gotten out of their vehicles.