He must’ve seen something in my panicked wide eyes. Because he pulled a gun and pointed it at me.
“I said don’t—”
Move.
I meant to throw myself into the dubious mercy of the chaparral where he wouldn’t dare risk his fancy suit.
But as I rolled over to flee, I inadvertently flung a spray of dust at him.
And from my gloved hand burst a crackling arc of violet fire.
He shouted—no girly screams from him—but I couldn’t see what happened. My eyes were dazzled, seared by the incandescent glow.
Stumbling through the afterimage, I sprang for the Fiesta. No way could my little car outrun his powerful sedan. But I had to try.
I reached for my car, but another arc of power—I swear I didn’t do it!—hit his. All the sedan’s alarms blared once, furiously, and then the lights went out.
Had my Fiesta died too?
But no, rusty and trusty, the engine roared to life, far too loud. And the torque was impossible as I spun the wheel away from…away from everything.
If Dane was still shouting—or shooting—I didn’t hear it over the deafening pound of my heartbeat in my ears. I put my foot down hard and didn’t look back.
Because if I did, I feared the world would be burning in indigo flames.
CHAPTER NINE
WHITE-KNUCKLING MY STEERING WHEEL,I careened through the campground, spitting gravel in my wake. Ignoring a stop sign, I hooked a sharp left, my car fishtailing, and hurtled past the ranger station. The 88 lay before me, and I cut out in front of a truck hauling a boat. My wheels barely touched the pavement as I flew toward Apache Junction.
My mobile rang. I grabbed for it, swerving onto the side of the road before overcorrecting. An oncoming car’s horn blared.
Without looking, I swiped the screen. “Thank God, Swann! You would not belie—”
“It’s Shirleen,” the voice on the line said.
“What?” I wheezed through my fear-tight throat. “I can’t talk right—”
“Well, we need to.” Shirleen sounded pissed. “Why aren’t you at the Freeze?”
The two-lane road split into four as it neared town. Traffic suddenly doubled, a Shell station ahead on one corner.
“I’m sick,” I told her. Sick of this fucking insanity! “I’ve really got to g—”
“I’m sending you a video,” Shirleen said. “I want an explanation of what I’m seeing.”
The sun was dipping below the horizon, but still so bright it washed out the road in front of me. I squinted as I was forced to slow to a stop at the light. The truck pulled up behind me, old guy at the wheel. I couldn’t see around the boat. In the lane to my right was a minivan. Seemed normal. But what did I know anymore?
With shock and fear sleeting through my veins, I could barely think. Brayden dead? Weird energy blasts coming from my hand?
“Did you hear me?” Shirleen pressed.
“Yeah. A video,” I repeated.
Oh.
Oh God, she’d seen the video.
The light turned, and so did I, heading for the 60 and back to Arbolito. Traffic went both ways here, a trailer park off to my left, old ranch houses off to my right. Slow-ass pickup driver in front of me when I needed speed.
