“He doesn’t usually turn off his phone.”
“I’m sure he’s okay,” he said.
“We really need to get going,” I insisted. Cormac didn’t say anything.
Ben stopped me from calling Cheryl. She was probably fine, he kept saying, and wouldn’t appreciate being woken up at this hour.
However, it was a perfect time to call the vampires.
Angelo wasn’t answering his phone, either. Trouble was, I didn’t know if that meant something was wrong, or if he was just ignoring me. Surely as tense as things had gotten, he wouldn’t just ignore me.
Hardin called—Tina was patched up. We drove over to meet them in the parking lot of the urgent care. Tina looked awful, a bandage over her face, a splint on her nose, arm in a sling. She moved slowly.
“Are you okay?” I asked. Why did we only ever ask that question when things were clearly not okay? A bit wobbly, she leaned on the trunk of the sedan.
“Oh yeah, few weeks it’ll all heal. I got some of the good drugs.” She tried a weak, sleepy smile. Her voice was muffled, nasal, from the bandages. And the drugs, probably.
Hardin announced the litany: “Five stitches on the forehead, cracked nose, dislocated shoulder, and a couple of cracked ribs. No concussion, thank goodness. I keep telling her the appropriate response to questions is, ‘You should see the other guy.’”
And this was why we shouldn’t have dragged a normal, nonsupernaturally strong, untrained person into this. “I’m really sorry. I never should have asked you to come—”
“I offered,” Tina said. “I had a choice. It could have happened to any of us. Kitty, it’s okay. Don’t apologize.”
I’d keep apologizing forever and it wouldn’t be enough.
“We’re heading back to Denver,” I said. “Right now. I’m worried Roman’s going to take the fight back home.”
“What exactly are you expecting to happen?” Hardin asked.
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be worried,” I said. Roman was on the move. Mercedes was on the move, or at least she had been. That demon—Ashtoreth—was out and about. We must have kicked over someone’s sand castle to get that reaction.
I wanted to be home, to brace for whatever happened next. Roman always kicked back.
Of course, getting back home “right now” involved a seven-hour drive on no sleep. I argued with myself—maybe we should stop, hole up in a hotel room, get some rest before leaving. Surely everything would be okay.
But I called Shaun again, and he still wasn’t answering. I scrolled through the contacts list on my phone. I knew a lot of people. Usually that gave me a warm happy feeling. I had friends, a support network. Right now, though, I’d put every single one of those people at risk.
Hardin declared that she would drive the sedan, with Tina resting in the backseat. They could travel at an easy pace and stop if they needed to. Ben, Cormac, and I would speed back in the Jeep. Our pack of three.
Before we left, Hardin called her department. She walked a little ways out and I only heard her half of the conversation, but when she returned, she seemed confident.
“I’ve got a note to the patrol cars,” she said. “They’re keeping a lookout; they’ll let me know if they see anything funny.”
I sighed, relieved. Allies. Everything was going to be fine. I was probably freaking out over nothing. We weren’t important or dangerous enough for Roman to want to strike back at. Yeah, right.
* * *
CORMAC DROVE, Ben rode in the passenger seat, and I was crammed into the tiny back, along with crates and containers filled with who knew what arcane gear. Maybe just road flares and a spare tire kit. What did I know? A few hours into the trip, crossing into Colorado and still heading north, dawn broke, and I called Cheryl.
“Kitty, what is it?” she said, and I melted with relief. Finally, someone answered their phone. She sounded awake, but tired. I probably should have checked the time first, but she’d be up—she had kids, right?
“Hey, Cheryl, is everything okay? Like, with you and Mom and Dad and everyone?”
Now she sounded confused. “Um, yeah? Except Nicky got detention yesterday. Nine-year-olds shouldn’t be getting detention.”
My brow furrowed. Well, that was a distraction. “What did she do?”
“Near as I can figure, she started a fight with a kid who was flipping girls’ skirts up with a stick at recess.”