01 Summoned-Summoned (27 page)

I slide between cars, one after the other, somehow not even clipping them. I can't believe I have this much control over the Accord.

A killer's hand is a steady hand.

The speedometer climbs to one-hundred and ten.

Who needs a damn Pagani? The Accord might as well be an F1 at this point.

A helicopter thuds overhead. 

Well, shit. Now I have to ditch a gaggle of police cars and a chopper. Probably at least two or three, since both the police and the news will be in on this.

One-hundred and twenty miles per hour.

Somehow, I don't feel any sort of rush from the speed at all. Maybe because my brain is still not processing anything except when to move over and when to move back. 

I join onto the I-10, westbound, riding through the gore point. The police cars hold back. It's just me and the helicopter. The damn bird moves effortlessly to keep up.

Yep, I'm probably on the news. Karl is going to be pissed.

One-hundred and twenty-five.

I could be a goddamn jet pilot.

Up ahead, a semi-truck. I swing around him, only to find another. 

Arizona, land of the semis. This will be interesting.

I find my rhythm. Swing out, speed up, swing in, speed up. It's almost better than sex. Almost.

Traffic builds. Don't these people know a lunatic is on the road? Turn on the damn news.

With that, I flip on my radio. Nine Inch Nails.

I crank it. Madness always needs a soundtrack. 

The city gives way to desert, and traffic thins. Hallelujah. The bird is still above me, but screw him. Screw everyone. Maybe I won't stop until I reach San Diego, then do it Thelma and Louise style right over the edge of a cliff.

Glorious.

The dagger of disobedience stabs my brain. 

Fine, I won't test gravity, but I'm not stopping anytime soon. I still have more than a half a tank of gas, and I'm not even tired yet.

Let's do this.

I race the car down the open desert of I-10, the shadow of a helicopter above and industrial music pounding around me. 

Life is pretty much awesome.

Traffic picks up again. I do my thing to get around them, but I'm forced to drop back to one-hundred. I swerve from lane to lane. The squeeze becomes tighter, even for my little car. I jump onto the shoulder and slam to one-hundred and thirty.

I've done a lot of stupid shit in my life, but this is by far the worst. I'm putting a lot of people in danger. I'm being irresponsible. And no one is making me do it.

The last point is why I never want to stop. Whether he can or not, it doesn't even seem possible Karl could summon me right now. As long as I keep driving, I'm free.

I pass the traffic congestion and drop off the shoulder and back into the right lane. 

One-hundred and forty.

I have no idea how much more the Accord can take. If I wreck, this vehicle is going to disintegrate and take me with it.

So I just won't wreck.

Open desert whizzes by on either side. I will need to turn soon, but I should be able to maintain speed. Still not sure how I'm going to ditch the aerial hunter, though.

I pass another car, then slide through the off-ramp. The Accord hauls ass through a pit stop town, then careens through a gas station and back into the desert.

I am golden.

A dozen cop cars surround me.

I am fucked.

The Accord kicks up dirt as it squeals tires toward one of the Crown Victorias. I realize my foot is on the brake. I'm aiming for a space between two cop cars. A very small space.

The Accord slides through, scraping metal and cracking the side mirrors. The seat belt tightens. I hit the gas again.

The tires spin out, then rocket forward. The helicopter is still above me. Maybe two or three. The cops are behind me. Right behind me.

The Accord stutters. I punch it again. It shudders and dies. Just like that.

I still don't feel anything but the urge to keep moving. I scramble out of the car and run. Sirens are still behind me. The sound is mostly drowned out by my pulse in my head. But it's my own pulse, not the demon hum.

I leap off the road into the desert brush and make like the Scarlet Speedster. My hand goes to my pocket, but not for the gun.

My phone.

I have it dialed and at my ear before I realize what I'm doing.

“Karl,” I gasp, without slowing down. “Summon me. Good god, man, summon me.”

I drop the phone into my pocket and press forward.

Then I'm surrounded again. This time by a dozen cars and two dozen men with face plates and guns.

I skid to a halt, knee touching ground and dirt billowing around me. 

My gaze travels the circle. I see their eyes. Their worry lines. Their lives and families and humanity painted on their faces.

They see mine too. But we both know the truth:

I would kill without thinking. I just need the order.

They are no different.

I put up my hands and close my eyes.

Guns cock in a full circle around me.

“Dimitri!”

It takes me a minute to realize Karl is speaking to me. I force my eyes open. 

I'm in the summoning chamber. I didn't even notice when he called me. My arms drop to my side.

He sits on his throne. His face is tense, and so is his voice. “What is going on?”

The panic hits my brain. “They found out about Zoe!”

Karl grimaces. I shouldn't know Zoe's name. I shouldn't know anything about her.

I shake my head. I don't care anymore. It's all falling apart.

“They came to my house and surrounded me in the desert.” I try to reel in my panic, but without success. “They saw you summon me.”

He gestures to a nearby guard. The guard leans down, and Karl speaks to him in a low voice. Then the guard nods and marches out of the chamber.

Karl turns back to me. “I'll handle it. For now, you are to stay at the mansion. Do you understand?”

I nod. I'm sure in a few days, I'll be angry and bulldoze my way back into the world. But for now I can't think of a better place to be. I might despise the Walkers, but I'm safe with them.

The side door bursts open. Karl sits straight.

Guards enter, someone twisting in their grasp.

My heart and jaw drop.

“I told you!” Syd says, breaking free from the guards and shooting them a glare. “I told you I knew someone here.” She looks at me. She's stunning. She's always stunning. Even when she's pissed. “Tell them they have to let Zoe go!”

Who the fuck does she think I am?

She growls. “Come on, Dimitri!”

“Syd,” I say, and then I can't find any other words.

Karl's stare nails onto her. Then he narrows his eyes at me.

Clattering erupts from the side. I jerk around. Five guards have guns trained on Syd's head. She stands so still I doubt she's breathing.

My fist clenches, but I resist lunging at them.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Karl make a discreet move with one hand resting on the arm of his throne.

All five guns lower.

Syd blinks. She's digesting what just happened. 

Then she finds her anger again and storms toward Karl. “If you hurt Zoe, I swear to god, I will string you up myself and perform surgery on your testicles with—“

I spin around to face her. “Syd, stop talking!”

She doesn't shut up. Doesn't even pause.

“Syd! Stop talking! Stop talking! Stop! Talking!”

“Dimitri,” Karl says.

I have never known true icy dread until this moment. I can't bring myself to look at him. I know I shouldn't ignore him, but I am unable to respond. My body is frozen.

Syd quiets down, but she's glancing between me and Karl. Scowling. She's confused, but not afraid. Not yet.

“Dimitri,” Karl says again. “Look at me.”

I force myself to turn to him, but I can't see him. I can't feel anything, either, not my hands or legs. My mind fixates on willing him from speaking.

“Dimitri, I have a request.”

I shove my hands to my ears, stumbling back a few steps. I shout. Just shout. Not words.

My arms are grabbed, forced down. Two guards hold me up. My knees are weak.

Karl says, “I want you to kill her.”

I tip my head to the ceiling and yell at the top of my lungs.

I can still hear the bastard. His words are clear, like they're coming from within my own brain.

“This . . . I . . . wish.”

The roar fills my skull.

I turn my head just enough to see Syd a few yards away, her eyes wide. 

I want to scream at her, but I can barely speak: “Run.”

She glances between me and Karl. Realization—and then terror—registers on her face. She turns on her heels and flees.

A guard reaches for her, but Karl puts up his hand. 

“No, let her go.” He glances at me and smirks. “All yours.”

I look in the direction she ran, her footsteps thudding down the hallway.

The hunt has begun.

I take the Corolla and head toward Phoenix.

The roar in my head isn't any louder than when it normally starts, but I can't tune it out even for a moment. It's no longer just my personal time bomb. It's Syd's, too.

I am still rational. For the moment. I grapple for an idea, an angle, something to work toward. Some way to stop this before it evolves.

I got nothing.

Unfortunately, contrary to what Karl might think, I'm a pretty heavy opponent. 

In a sick way, I'm sort of relieved Syd knows the truth now, since I wasn't allowed to tell her. She knows I'm the Walker's jinn. She knows I have murdered and kidnapped. She knows I'm going to kill her.

I shake my head.

No. Not kill her. I have to find the loophole. 

My brain goes two directions at once. Half of it tries to come up with a plan for Syd to use against me. The other half is that default part, the one that hears the hum and stars whirling. It drives the wishes. It plots the kills. It is terrified of failure.

I pull into my carport and get out before realizing that the place should be under investigation. It's quiet. Like nothing had ever happened.

Karl's connections are awesome and unsettling.

As I step into the living room, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

I pull out the phone, prepared to tell Karl off.

Syd is calling me

I let it ring a few more times, staring at the screen. There's no way she is that crazy.

I answer it.

“Dimitri,” she says, on the verge of tears.

I stand corrected. She is that crazy. 

I don't reply. What am I supposed to tell her? 

Her voice is soft. “How do we stop this?”

I flip on the light to my bedroom, then remove my jacket and toss it over the computer chair. Her breath shudders in my ear. I know she's crying, but nothing I can say will make any difference. I really can't help her, just like I always feared about finding out her truth.

I sit on the edge of the mattress and work off my shoes.

Syd used to lie in this bed with me. We have done so many amazing things here. It wasn't just about the sex though. It was the fact someone as amazing as her would want to spend so much time with me. Would want to know me.

Well, here I am.

This is me: Dimitri Hayes.

I really am a monster.

“Dimitri.” Her voice quivers. “I'm scared.”

I lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Me too, Syd,” I say at last. “Me too.”

I hang up the phone and drop it onto the bed next to me. Part of me thinks she will call back. The other part of me knows she won't. 

She doesn't.

I close my eyes against the overhead light shining in my face. It is time to sleep. Just like I do before any kill. 

God, I hope Syd has a plan. I sure as hell don't.

***

I wake because my head is throbbing. As soon as I open my eyes, nausea spreads through me. I take a few deep breaths until it passes, then push to a sit. 

The windows are dark, and the hum is demanding action. I have to get rolling. Despite how much I would like to linger—linger until I never leave—the hum knows me better than that. It knows my intentions. If I'm not actively hunting Syd, the monster will rattle its cage.

Its cage being my skull.

My phone beeps. I pick it up. The battery is low.

I lean over to the nightstand and plug the phone into the wall charger and set it down. A piece of paper catches my attention. 

I pick it up and unfold it.

Scrawled across it is an address. Underneath the address, a heart and the words, “Runaway with me”.

Santa Fe, New Mexico. One of the many promises I made to Syd and never fulfilled.

I frown and place it under the phone again. Time to get ready. Not like I feel safe hanging around here anyway. I assume Karl took care of law enforcement, but I don't know that for sure. I don't know if they will be back.

I shower and shave, then spend more time picking out clothes than I have in my entire life. A jab in my brain makes me wince. The beast inside is telling me to get with it.

I dress, grab a random wallet, add some benzos to the jacket pocket with the guns, and contemplate making a cup of coffee.

The delay tactics are only going to make things worse in the long run. The longer I wait, the more insistent the hum will grow. There's only ever been one way to stop it: fulfill the wish.