Salem's Revenge Complete Boxed Set (27 page)

“W
hoa, whoa, whoa!” I say, rising quickly and positioning myself between Laney and Bil.

Bil takes advantage of the distraction and swings his crossbow in front of him, a bolt already in position. For just a moment, I wonder what it would feel like to be shot by a cursed bullet and an arrow, also likely full of magic, at the same time. And by two people who are both supposedly my friends.

“Move it, Carter!” Laney says. “He tried to blow us up.”

“Tell your new girlfriend to get her gun out of my face or she’ll have a lot more to worry about than getting blown up!” Bil shouts.

Technically, Laney’s not my girlfriend and her gun is in
my
face, but I don’t think correcting him will help, so I say, “Everybody just calm down,” something that cops always say on TV to diffuse a group of gun-wielding baddies. Just like on TV, my words have no impact, almost seeming to make things worse.

Laney pushes forward, jams her gun over my shoulder, as if using me as a human shield. I’ll have to talk to her about that. “I should shoot you right now,” she says, her face so close to mine that I almost feel like she’s talking to me.

“You’ll die before you pull the trigger. I’ve been doing this a long time, sweetie,” Bil retorts. I’m stuck, unsure of what to do, waiting for the shooting to start with me in the middle, Hex barking around my feet, when—

A deafening scream rips through the tunnel.

“Ahh!” I yell, covering my ears and dropping to the truck bed. I hear similar shouts from Bil and Laney, and am vaguely aware of the clatter of their weapons on either side of me, but most of my focus is on pressing the flesh of my hands to my ears to block out the horrible keening that’s exploding in my eardrums.

In the background, there’s the sound of tinkling glass and crackling sparks, and although my eyes are jammed shut, I see a blaze of bright light behind my eyelids, flaring like the sun rising over the horizon, and then vanishing as quickly as it came.

The scream stops, echoing down the tunnel and into the night. My ears are ringing. There are voices, but they sound like they’re underwater. I realize it’s like when Trish blew up the missile. While we were arguing and her sister and Bil were about to do something hasty, Trish silently decided to do something about it. Something bold. And effective.

Slowly, I lift my head and swivel it around. Bil is lying on the truck bed, craning his neck. Hex is licking Laney’s face and she’s making a futile attempt to push him away. Trish is standing over me, watching my every movement. She points two fingers at my eyes then at hers.
Watch me
, her motion says. Then she points down the tunnel.
Follow me.

“We’ve got to go!” I say, and I know I’m shouting because I can’t hear myself. Laney says something, but she doesn’t shout so all I see are her lips moving. “No time to argue!” I shout, even though I don’t know whether she was arguing. “The noise is going to draw every last witch in Pittsburgh to this tunnel!”

Trish takes off, her short legs carrying her from the truck bed onto the next car. Ushering the others forward, we follow her. “What’s going on?” Bil shouts, his voice sounding far away and muffled. “What was that scream?”

“No time to explain!” I shout back, pushing him onward. Some of the previously burnt-out tunnel lights above us are sparking. Glass crunches underfoot. Trish’s scream must have impacted their wiring and shattered their bulbs. And yet…

Didn’t kill us.

She has more control over her power than I think Laney or I realize.

Laney’s little sister traverses six or seven vehicles, hopping from car to car like a frog crossing a lily-pad-covered pond, and then climbs down to the left, disappearing into a shadowy doorway.
Tunnel maintenance staff only
, a small red-lettered sign reads.

“Wait,” I say, when she pauses outside a metal door. “Let me open it.”
Just in case
, I think.

“You haven’t changed,” Bil mutters. “Always got to be the hero.”

I ignore him and tug at the handle. Locked. Won’t budge, even when I brace myself and give it a hardy yank.

Trish motions me aside with a tiny wave. She turns the handle and pulls, and the door swings open.

I gawk at her as she enters the space and begins climbing a set of stairs. Hex clambers after her, emanating a reddish light now, which makes the steps appear almost molten, as if swarming with lava.

Laney follows, but Bil hangs back. “What the hell is going on, Carter?” Bil says. “What is she?”

“Who?” I say, playing dumb and starting up the stairs without looking back.

“Damn you,” Bil mutters, but I hear the stomp of his footsteps as he follows me.

We reach a concrete landing, where the steps twist back on themselves, heading up another flight. Trish continues on without hesitation, as if guided by some sixth sense. Up and up we go, until my calves are burning and trickles of sweat are running down my spine. Bil mutters curses at me for a while, but eventually stops, and all I can hear is his heavy breathing.
Can’t handle a few stairs, eh, Bil?

Finally, mercifully, we reach the top of the climb, where another door blocks our path forward. As before, Trish opens it easily, regardless of whether it was locked. A dark and star-glittered night sky greets us. A light fall breeze wafts over my sweat-sheened skin, instantly cooling my flesh and raising goose bumps.

Bil, hands on his knees, panting, says, “She’s a…witch.”

None of us needs to look to know who he’s referring to. “She is,” I say. There’s clearly no hiding that.

“Strange company you’re keeping these days, Rhett,” Bil says.

“Like you, you mean?” Laney says, giving him a dark look. Her fingers twitch around the handle of her shotgun. Here we go again. Even the exhaustion of a mile-high stair climb wasn’t enough to quell their anger.

I hold up a hand. “Stop. Both of you. We don’t have time for this, nor can we draw any more attention to our location than we already might have.” I turn to Bil. “The last time we talked you said you still believe only bad witches deserve to die, right?” He frowns but nods. “Trish is not one of them, not like you think. She’s saved us once already. Trust me.”

“Trust you? Maybe you, Carter, but not her. Not her sister.” Laney glares at him, but he continues on. “We’re in a war here and the last thing we need is a snake pretending to be a sheep.”

I scoff. “Don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical? You almost shot me the last time I saw you. Forget you trusting us. You’re not one of us, at least not yet. The question is why should we trust you?”

The question seems to give him pause. He cranes his neck to look at the cloudless sky, as if searching for something in the heavens. His soul perhaps?

“I’m just trying to do the right thing,” he says slowly, sounding out each word at a time, as if afraid his loose tongue might betray him. “I didn’t know you were in that town in Pennsylvania. All I knew was that there was a large group of Pyros doing some pretty bad stuff and that they needed to be stopped. By the time you arrived, I would have been long gone.”

Laney rolls her eyes, but doesn’t say anything, just stands partly in front of Trish, as if she expects Bil to try to shoot her at any second.

“Look, Bil, I want to believe you, but the thing is, those Pyros were already dead when the missile arrived.” After my statement, I watch carefully for Bil’s reaction.

Either well-acted or genuine surprise lights up his eyes. “What? No. That’s impossible. I ordered the strike for a day after I’d moved on. The place was an inferno when I left it. Pyros burning buildings and survivors like pieces of kindling.”

“They were in a deader than dead pile when we got there,” Laney says. “Then your damn missile came and my sister had to blow it up to save us.”

“What do you mean ‘blow it up’?” Bil asks. Laney goes quiet, realizing that she’s said too much.

I sigh. “Tell him, Laney. He already knows she’s not human.”

She searches my eyes for a moment, but then says, “She screamed. Just like she did in the tunnel. The missile exploded, but in the air, before it reached its target.”

“But I…” Bil’s eyes widen further, brown-white circles in the dark. “They confirmed the missile’s detonation at the target.”

“Well, it was right overhead,” I say. “And it did detonate pretty freaking close to its target, so maybe their systems—satellites, GPS, or whatever—just saw the explosion and confirmed it.”

Bil scratches his chin absently, still in disbelief. “It’s possible, I guess. Then that’s a powerful sister you have there.”

Laney just glares at him.

Bil throws up his hands. “Look, I think we all got off on the wrong foot. If we work together, maybe we can take down the Necros. Trust me, you’ll need my help. This is a big gang and they’re not working alone. I’ve counted members of at least six other gangs working with them.”

“Counted?” I say.

Bil nods. “I’ve been conducting surveillance in the area for a couple of days, just before you arrived in the tunnel, which I was using as my base of operations. It’s safer outside the city, that’s for damn sure.”

“And you saw other gangs in the area?” I ask, right away thinking of the Sirens killing the farmers and all the Shifters’ talk about how the Necros were offering a reward for handing me over to them.

“Yeah,” Bil says. “We’ve got one helluva fight on our hands.”

I’m about to ask my next question when the sky blazes with fire and lightning.

W
e barely have time to duck beneath the thick leaves of a nearby tree before the Destroyers are overhead, circling in wide arcs.

They’re not alone.

In flashes of light against the dark blue sky, we see them in shadowy profile. Other witches and warlocks are hanging onto airborne chariots wreathed in fire and crackles of electricity. The Destroyers are pulling them across the starry firmament.

Pyros and Volts and Destroyers: all working together. And according to Bil they’re all working with the Necros. Not good.

“I told you,” Bil hisses.

“Shut your mouth before I shut it for you,” Laney hisses back.

“They’re looking for us,” I whisper. “They heard the sound and are investigating.”

Bil and Laney both nod. At least they agree on something.

Trish touches my arm. Motions up, into the tree. “Huh?” I say.

Hex—who thankfully had the intelligence to turn off his inner light when the witches appeared—gets Trish’s message before I do, and starts rising up into the tree. He lands on a wide branch and settles on his haunches.

“Climb,” Laney says, stretching up and grabbing the lowest branch. Doing a chin up, she pulls herself onto the bottom rung and then reaches down for Trish to grab her hand. I cup my hands and let Trish step into them, boosting her into Laney’s waiting arms.

“Why doesn’t the witch just fly herself up?” Bil mutters.

I get in his face. “You want to work with us? You’ll keep those comments to yourself,” I say. “If I have to choose between the two of you, I choose Trish.” My own words surprise me, and I have to turn away and start climbing the tree so Bil doesn’t recognize my muddled expression. Am I really siding with a witch? Where’s Rhett Carter, feared witch hunter, and what have you done with him?

Simply using the long reach of my right arm, I’m easily able to pull myself onto the first branch without relying on my left arm. There, I stop to reposition myself, keeping my injured arm tight against my side.

As I start to reach for the second branch, I realize something. You can remake yourself a thousand times in a thousand ways, but deep down, where it counts the most, you’ll always be the same. Hating based on being born into a group is just not in me, whether it’s people of other religions, races, or...even witches. I can’t hate Trish any more than I could hate the son of a serial killer. What we do with our lives, and how we are judged by others, should be entirely up to us.

My epiphany still sliding around in my head, I climb higher and then settle in on a large, well-hidden branch, next to Laney, making sure the only room left for Bil is on my opposite side. I’d rather be between them, especially when silence is of the essence.

We arrange ourselves not a moment too soon, as there’s a heavy
WHUMP!
when a chariot-pulling Destroyer lands atop the hill. I can just make out a pale black-cloaked warlock. I almost mistake him for a Necro, except his robe doesn’t have a hood to hide his face.

“Nice landing,” a female voice says sarcastically. “I’ll be aching for days.” A tall, red-haired woman steps into view. Her hands are on fire. Laney grabs my arm, her nails digging into my skin. I bear it in silence.

“I’m not your chauffer,” the Destroyer says, looking around. With a flick of his hand he sends a ripple through the air, which collides with a bush. The foliage immediately turns as gray and solid as stone.

“You’re not good for much else,” the Pyro says snidely, sending a blue-green fireball bouncing across the grass, creating a trail of flames, before setting a small tree alight.

“Is that right?” the Destroyer says. “You want to try to back that up?” He aims a fist in her direction, like a challenge.

You can try to make them work together
, I think wryly,
but you can’t make them be friends.

“You’re not going to trick me into a childish test of power,” the Pyro says, tossing her long hair behind her. “You should stay focused on figuring out where the hell that scream came from. We thought we’d killed off the last of the Claires, but if there are any left…”

“Yeah, yeah. They’re our top priority,” the Destroyer says, firing another ripple at the petrified bush, which shatters in a hailstorm of rock and rubble. “Seems like everything’s our top priority these days. Getting more corpses. Capturing the elusive witch hunter. Penetrating New Washington’s defenses. We’ve got to start focusing or we’ll stretch ourselves too thin.”

Claires?
I wonder. Is that another witch gang? I thought Mr. Jackson had taught me about all of them, even the ones that had been killed off, but that name doesn’t sound familiar.

“Are you questioning his orders?” the Pyro says. “Because if so, I’d be happy to pass your ideas along…”

“Shut. It. You know I’m not saying anything different than anyone else. And don’t even try to accuse me of treason. You don’t want to pick a fight with the Destroyers.” He kicks a chunk of rock that used to be part of the bush.

“We’d rip you apart,” the Pyro says noncommittally.

The Destroyer laughs. “Ha! I heard about what happened just south of here. An entire Pyro gang finished off. By who? That pathetic group of cowboys that call themselves The End? Shameful.”

I stop breathing, and Laney’s grip tightens on my arm. Although Huckle already told us it was The End that killed the Pyro gang, there was a part of me that didn’t want to believe it. But hearing it from another source makes it all the more real. To do that much damage they must be growing stronger, recruiting more witch hunters to their “cause.”

“Whatever,” the Pyro says. “Driver! Take me back to the field. There’s no one here.”

With that, the Destroyer/Pyro duo roar into the night sky, joining the dozens of others who are swarming toward the city empty handed.

~~~

Sitting on the edge of Mt. Washington, the city is dark and foreboding, but beautiful, too. I imagine it would have been even more beautiful before Salem’s Revenge, full of lights and city bustle.

Now the buildings are dark, and made even darker by a mountainous black cloud that hovers over everything like a shadow.

The city is surrounded on two sides by two rivers, which come together at the corner closest to us, before forming a third river and racing off toward Ohio and the west. It’s no wonder they call Pittsburgh the city of bridges—there’s no way to get to the city without crossing at least one. However, as I scan the length of the three rivers, I notice only two bridges remain intact: the one just beneath us, the Fort Pitt Bridge; and another, just to the west of the city. The others, including the famous Liberty Bridge, have been devastated by an unnatural force, shattered into concrete shards and twisted metal beams that poke from the water, sending whitewater current flowing around them.

I shiver, but not from the cool autumn night.

As my eyes adjust to the dark, I realize something that Laney has already noticed. “Rubble,” she mutters. “Too much damn rubble.” She’s not referring to the bridges, but the city itself.

Peering through the empty expanse of river and air between us and the city, I make out the truth of the dark beauty I recognized earlier. Amongst the shadows of the buildings are mounds of destruction. At least half of Pittsburgh’s buildings have been brought down, as if the city has been bombed to hell and back again.

“What happened here?” I ask absently to myself.

Bil’s white teeth grin at me in the dark, completely out of place considering what we’re seeing. “The witches destroyed half and New America obliterated the other half,” he says, his voice rising, almost sounding giddy with excitement.

Crap. The slightly insane Bil is back. Where did he go when he seemed almost normal earlier? I believe everyone’s got a crazy gene in them, but for some it’s larger or more prevalent, like a protruding nose or a particularly flabby set of jowls. I’m not saying my crazy gene is tiny, because it’s not, but it’s certainly not as big as Bil Nez’s. Not yet anyway.

Before I can stop Laney from getting him riled up, she says, “You blew up the city?”

Bil’s on his feet in an instant, his hand curling over his shoulder to grab his crossbow. “New America did! I just gave them the information!” I’m almost afraid his shouts will be enough to draw the Destroyers out again.

“Whoa, Soaring Eagle, chill out. It was just a question,” Laney says, surprisingly calm.

“Questions have teeth,” Bil says.

“I won’t even try to figure out what that means,” Laney says.

“They bite and tear.” Bil gnashes his teeth. Oh boy, this situation is about two seconds from getting out of control.

I put a hand on Laney’s arm.
Let me handle this
, I plead silently. “We understand why you had to do it. There are hundreds of witches here.”

“Thousands,” Bil says.

God.
“Thousands,” I correct, a sick feeling creeping into my stomach. If there are thousands of witches, what chance do we have? “So you had no choice. Destroy a city to take out a large portion of the enemy, right?”

Bil just stares at us, his hand still touching the weapon strapped to his back. He looks surprised, like he’s expecting more of a confrontation than he’s getting. “So New America bombed the city?” I’ve got to get him talking, make him feel calm and comfortable. Try to bring the “normal” Bil back to the forefront.

When Bil removes his hand from his crossbow, I do my best to hide the breath I release. “Yeah,” he says. “I told them the situation. That there were
thousands
of magic-born from all different gangs in Pittsburgh. A day later they bombed the hell out of it while I was watching from the tunnel.”

“Awesome,” I say, although it doesn’t feel very awesome. Fear is rising inside me faster than I can swallow it down. How many innocents were killed in the bombings? And what if Beth and Xave were here?

The familiar rush of denial takes away my breath.
They’re dead they’re dead they’re dead
, I chant in my head.

The smarter part of my brain says
Why would the Necros take any prisoners?
I grit my teeth and blink away the moisture in my eyes and try to cling to the very last shred of hope I’ve got. But hope is an elusive thing, always there, but never where you expect it to be. After all, hope’s brother is despair, and they’re always working together to crush the minds and souls of even the strongest men and women.

“But the witches are still here?” Laney asks, shrewdly taking over the questioning. As usual, she proves my equal in intelligence. She’s realized that Bil requires a special kind of touch to keep him from snapping.

I pat the spot on the ground next to me. Bil looks at it, but remains standing. We’re not out of the crazy forest yet.

“The witches REFUSE to die,” he says, his hands raking a path through his jet black hair. He throws his ponytail over his shoulder to the front, where it hangs like a rope.

“It’s okay, Bil,” I say soothingly. “You’ve got friends now. We’re going to help you.”

“And New America?” he says.

“Yes,” I say. “And New America.” I don’t know much about the new government in place, but for now I’ll say anything to keep him calm. “But we need to know what happened after the bombing.”

“The witches knew it was coming!” Bil says, spit flying from his mouth. “A traitor! There’s a traitor!”

“Shhh,” Laney says. “We’ve got to be quiet. The hills have eyes and ears and we don’t want to make it any easier for them.” I try not to laugh at the forced seriousness in her tone. Thankfully, Bil doesn’t seem to realize she’s mocking him.

“Yes,” he says. “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry.” Finally he sits down, lowers his voice. “They had already relocated their stronghold from the city to…there.” He points to the left of the city, west, across one of the rivers, where the second bridge remains intact. A large dark oval blots the landscape.

“The football field,” I say. “The Pyro told the Destroyer to take her back to the field.”

Bil nods. “That’s where they are,” he says solemnly. “New America bombed the city, but no one was there. I told them about the field, but when the missiles came, they vanished as if they never existed in the first place.”

The statement could just be the ramblings of a mad man, but somehow I don’t think so. “They’ve got wards around the football field,” I say. “Heinz Field.”

Bil’s next words seem as lucid as he’s ever sounded, despite the message of violence they carry. “If we can find a way to remove the wards, New America can kill them all.”