Page 45 of The Shade of Things
I scanned the shifter for injury, from the crown of his head, along his black Henley and dark jeans, down to his motorcycle boots, but he seemed unharmed.
“Shotgun!” The golem got one leg into the front passenger side, next to the small day pack tossed there, and emitted a weak laugh at the shifter’s fierce glower.
Laurent jabbed the golem in the chest. “Back. Seat.”
“You’re not supposed to play favorites,” Emmett said, grumpily getting into the back. “It’s not good for morale.”
“Heeeey, Huff ’n’ Puff.” I fired finger guns at Laurent as I clambered in next to him. “Sweet ride. Where’d you get it?”
Eli rolled his eyes as he climbed in next to the golem.
“I took it from one of the workers. They use them to get around.” Laurent hit the gas pedal and off we puttered.
“How’d you figure that out?” Emmett said. “Insider knowledge?”
Laurent’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. I got it from inside his brain before I tore his head off.”
“Touchy,” Emmett muttered.
I craned around, checking for vamps, shifters, or more exploding houses. “Does this thing go any faster?”
The road rumbled and buckled.
“No.” Laurent jerked the wheel, bumping us over the curb onto a lawn.
“What are you doing?” I held on to one of the poles supporting the hard canopy.
The street shifted to snap into place with the stretch of straight road once more ahead of us.
“If we stick to the main streets, we’ll be stuck here forever.” Laurent steered us between two homes and onto another cul-de-sac. “The trick is to keep sight of that road but not directly travel on it.”
Eli leaned forward, his notebook and pencil in hand. “Have you seen any contestants?”
“Alive?” Laurent shook his head.
“Was it a young woman of Chinese heritage?”
“No. A man, likely of Middle Eastern descent.”
Eli relaxed. Teresa could still be alive. “Did you see a race number on him?”
“Six, I think.”
Eli’s pencil scritched as he jotted down notes.
“What got him?” I said.
Laurent gripped the wheel more tightly. “Another player.”
“Why do you think that?” Eli said.
“There were fibers on the man’s throat. Vamps and shifters wouldn’t strangle someone, and if they did, they wouldn’t need a rope.”
“There can only be one winner,” I said. “Though you’d think they’d wait longer to start offing each other. It would make more sense to work together and then…” I shook my head, unable to voice the awful thought, imagining being terrified and bonding with these other people to survive, only to know that at some point they’d be gunning for you.
Tatiana’s face flashed in my mind, but I swiftly shook it off.
“That’s so shitty,” Emmett said.
