Present day
NOW that I needed to see in order to drive, the night seemed to press even more tightly against the Jeep. I might be able to sense colors but I couldn’t fully illuminate the darkness, not enough for driving. The cold air seeping around the doors whistled and sighed. The only light in the world seemed to belong to my headlights and to the single beam behind me.
The stop sign at the end of the gravel road loomed, glaring red, in the Jeep’s windshield.
I didn’t move my foot to the brake.
Apparently sensing for the first time that something was wrong, Claire twitched her head to one side. Her gaze fixed on the approaching intersection.
“Iris?”
“I’m not stopping for the turn.” I didn’t bother glancing in the rearview or side mirrors. The motorcycle’s single beam burned in my peripheral vision, visible in both mirrors. “Brace yourself.”
The view to either side of the intersection, north and south along the paved road, was clear. No trees blocked my view, and no headlights—other than mine and the bike’s—cut the darkness. I let off the gas just long enough to slide into the first quarter of the turn. Gravel flew, accompanied by the unnerving sense that the back tires no longer gripped the road.
As soon as I felt pavement beneath the front tires, I hit the accelerator again. As the Jeep’s back end fishtailed, Claire squeaked in alarm.
“Iris!”
“It’s OK.” I muttered the words more with reflex than with forethought.
Was it OK? My heart thudded. The Jeep’s fishtailing settled out, but the out of control sensation I’d felt during the turn remained, urging me to take my foot off the accelerator. The road ahead held hills and curves. Probably no traffic, not at this hour.
I am no stunt driver. Am I really going to do this?
Behind me, the motorcycle swung onto the paved road. It had slowed more than I had—wiping out on a bike would be easier on gravel and a really bad idea all the way around. Its headlight wavered as it completed the turn.
Within seconds, the headlight glared steadily into the Jeep’s mirrors again. It grew larger. Brighter. Its engine growled.
Beside me, Claire sat upright and clutched the dashboard with both hands. She stared straight ahead through the windshield.
At the roadside flashing past, like I was. Age-worn along the edges, chunks of asphalt cracked and crumbled where the road met the shoulder. I fixed my gaze on the furthest point on the road ahead that I could see in the darkness and scanned side to side, uber-focused on my driving.
“Claire. Listen.” I struggled to formulate words as I concentrated. But there was no chance I was slowing enough for Claire to leap out, not anytime soon. I had to offer some explanation.
“There’s someone chasing us?” Claire’s voice rose further at the end than it really needed to, even for a question.
“Yeah. He’s… someone I used to know.” True. But vague enough to avoid difficult questions.
Claire kept her hands braced against the dash, her body leaned far back into the seat. I imagined my posture was much the same—fingers clenched around the steering wheel, spine stiff as I forced my foot to hold steady on the accelerator.
After a second, with a little more strength, Claire asked, “And this guy you used to know, he’s an asshole?”
No. He just has a job to do.
But that job involved stripping me of my magic.
“Yes.” I kept my eyes on the road. I’d have to slow at least a little, soon—hills and curves.
“OK.” Claire sounded a little less shaky. “So let’s lose this asshole.”
I snorted an abbreviated version of a startled laugh.
To the right, a brilliant yellow sign flashed past, warning of a curve ahead.