Chapter Fifteen
In the driver’s seat, Helena continued to pilot them down the new, deserted road.
“By the way boys,” Darryl said, breaking the new silence, “since I know it’s crossed both of your tiny minds, it’s no use offing her. She just comes back. She’s a gift from the Storyteller, so there’s no doing away with her.”
Will stared at the warlock, and in his peripheral vision, he could see Liam was doing the same.
“Exactly how many times have you killed her, Darryl?” Liam asked. His eyes were cold, nearly colorless. The green had leached out of them, a reflection of his emotion. He’d shut off the nozzle in self preservation.
Darryl’s brow raised. “Me personally? None. But this happens to be her fourteenth time around.”
The information slugged Will in the chest, and for a moment he was without air. He couldn’t say anything. Liam was quiet too, until he slowly turned back around to face forward and said, “You’re a yellow coward and an unbelievable scumbag, toe tag.”
Liam looked out the side window in silence as behind him, Darryl eyed him through a narrowed gaze that quickly spread red. Darryl Maelstrom preferred “Mr. Maelstrom” above other forms of personal greeting, and that was what the men who worked for him called him, but he tolerated “Darryl,” especially from the Slate cousins. What he had a far more difficult time tolerating were reminders that he was just short of living and breathing, and Liam Slate was very good at poking that particular bear.
“Okay, that’s enough,” said Helena suddenly.
Will’s head whipped forward. She was down-shifting and slowing the vehicle. He and Liam exchanged confused glances, and Darryl wasn’t any help. His face had gone expressionless, his eyes once more normal.
At a mile marker almost eleven miles past the one they’d first appeared by, Helena pulled the car over to the side of the deserted road and shoved it into neutral, yanking up the emergency brake before she opened her car door and climbed out. Liam gave Darryl an expectant look.
Tight jawed and sharp-eyed, Darryl snapped his fingers. The three of them disappeared from the interior of the car and reappeared standing beside it, opposite Helena. She had a gun in her right hand.
Will looked at the weapon and wondered where the hell she’d obtained it. The only possibility he could fathom was that she’d hastily grabbed it from the space under her seat as she’d climbed out. Was she that good? So good that she’d stashed a gun there during the car’s reconstruction?
Helena cocked the weapon, a plain black Colt .45, and stepped away from the car. The boys stayed where they were, and continued to watch in tense confusion. Still tangible, Will couldn’t help but remind himself. Because even if she couldn’t see him to aim, there was always the chance a bullet would strike true.
“Whoever or whatever you are, you can go ahead and show yourselves now,” she said as she looked in their general vicinity. Her own gaze was narrowed, and her white teeth were bared. “I know you’re there.”
Darryl swore softly. “Bollocks.” He sighed. “Jig is up, boys. Time to pay the piper.” He snapped again, and the three of them still stood there. To Will, there was no change. But to Helena, it made all the difference, because now she had something to aim at.
Which is exactly what she did.
The three of them raised their empty hands to show they were unarmed as her eyes and her gun went from one of them to the other. When they got to Darryl, they stopped there. Her gaze narrowed.
Good instincts, thought Will. There was laughter in his head, low and deep. Cain was back.
“Who,” Helena said, “and what are you?” She asked the latter part with emphasis, clearly able to tell Darryl was not quite human, at least not any longer.
Liam’s gaze cut to his cousin, before turning back on Helena. He was about to answer, but Will somehow beat him to it. “I’m Will,” he said placatingly, hoping against hopes that she would listen to reason and not judge them by the fact that they’d done nothing but deceive her so far. “Will Slate,” he clarified. “This is my cousin Liam,” he said nodding to Liam. “And that’s…”
“Darryl Maelstrom,” Darryl offered, cutting him off. “At your service.”
Helena eyed him warily. “The… zombie warlock?”
Darryl looked at the cousins before slowly lowering his hands to slide them into his pockets. This must have set off alarm bells in Helena’s head, because she shook her head and gestured for him to get his hands back up. He froze and slowly raised his hands once more. Then he sighed. “One and the same,” he admitted, apparently deciding not to share the fact that his men had killed her thirteen times.
Helena blinked. Then she lowered her gun, which surprised the cousins enough that it took them a moment before they in turn lowered their arms.
“Well, if that’s true, then these bullets are useless against you anyway.” She slipped the gun into a holster at the small of her back, and Will noticed it was the same brand he and his cousin used. So that’s where it came from, he thought.
Helena now faced them empty-handed. She looked disappointed, but not in them, in herself. “I’ve been told nothing short of gold bullets will slow you down, and they’re a bit out of my price range for everyday use.”
Darryl flashed her a charming smile. “Are you telling me you need a sugar daddy?”
She shot him a dirty look.
Good girl, thought Will and said Cain at the same time.
“Plus,” she added pointedly, “you wouldn’t have bothered showing yourselves to me if you’d been planning to kill me,” she reasoned. “Probably.” She considered her own deduction. Then she shrugged and took a deep breath. “So what the hell are you doing in my car?”
“That’s… a long story,” said Will, his mind firing away at a million miles a minute to find a starting place in this particular explanation.
“Is it?” asked Helena disbelievingly. “I’m listening.”
“Well, first off,” said Liam as he smiled charmingly. “I just gotta tell you – this is a great car. You’ve got amazing taste.”
Helena eyed him curiously and cautiously for a moment. Liam obviously grew nervous beneath the gaze, because he cleared his throat, and his smile slipped a little. Will always thought his cousin looked most vulnerable when a woman didn’t fall for his flattery. Like he’d been beaten playing his best cards. It somehow made him more human.
Will spoke up. “We’re here to help you, Helena.” Her name felt good on his tongue, especially when he was talking directly to her.
Helena’s eyes returned to Will, and Will felt himself heat up inside. It just seemed warmer when her attention was on him; there was no other way to describe it. “It’s going to be impossible to believe at first, and probably hard to believe even after we explain it.” He gave her a helpless, appealing look. “But it’s the truth.”
There was this tightness in his gut, a hunger in his heart, and fear that rode under it all, like a constant low-playing warning that reminded him he might have to go toe to toe with her. He might have to hurt her. Or hell – she might have to hurt him.
“Well,” she said finally, “I’m a reasonable girl. Start talking.”
Relief flooded Will’s system, and he started to exhale. But before he got another word out, the highway approximately twenty yards in front of the Shelby exploded, erupting from beneath the road like a geyser.