Sign of the Throne: Book One in the Solas Beir Trilogy (26 page)

“So, what, you’re not talking to me at all now?” he asked, jogging up to her.

“No,” Abby said, walking faster. “I’m still mad at you.”

He kept pace with her. “Where are you going?”

“None of
your
business,” she said. “Leave me alone.”

Jon grabbed her arm. “Abby, stop. Please.”

She stopped and glared at him. He was getting drenched, and she couldn’t help but feel a little smug about it, even though she was getting wet too.

“Look,” Jon said. “I’m sorry, okay? I really
was
trying to be cool about you being with David, but then I saw him kissing you, and I just flipped out. It wasn’t fair of me to accuse you of doing something wrong or tell you that you had to be with me instead.”

“No,” Abby replied. “It
wasn’t
fair. Especially since I’ve been really supportive about you and Marisol.”

“I know,” Jon said. “I was being overprotective. I love you. But I get that you want to be with him
, and I respect that. And you’re right—I do like Marisol. A lot. I do want to be with her. I’ve been trying to move on from you and me, but I had a little relapse.”

Abby raised her eyebrows. “A relapse?”

Jon nodded. “Yes. I screwed up, and I’m sorry. I was an idiot. Can you forgive me?”

Abby smiled. “I forgive you, you idiot.” She started to pull him into a hug and then pushed him away. “Ugh! You’re sopping wet!”

He grinned and grabbed her, pulling her against his wet T-shirt. “So we’re good? You still love me?”

She tried to wriggle from his grasp and realized it was a futile effort. “If I say yes, will you stop trying to soak me?”

Nodding, he gave her a lopsided smile that made him look like an adoring but simple-minded puppy. She had to admit it was endearing, even though she was irritated that he wouldn’t let her go. Between him and the rain, her jacket was dripping, and the water was seeping through to her T-shirt.

“
Fine
,” Abby said. “We’re good.”

“Aaaand?” The stupid puppy grin widened.

She gave him a dirty look. “And I still love you. Idiot.”

“And all is well,” Jon laughed, kissing her forehead and releasing her. “So where
are
you going?”

“You’re not going to like it,” she said.

Jon frowned. “Oh. To see
him
.”

Abby gave him a look of warning.

“No,” Jon said, holding up his hands in surrender. “It’s fine. I’m not objecting.”

“Really?” she asked.

Jon nodded. “I’m a changed man. I’ll play nice from here on out. Scout’s honor.” He held up three fingers as if that proved he meant it.

Abby laughed. “You weren’t a Boy Scout.
You
were a juvenile delinquent.”

“Delinquent? I prefer the term
lovable rogue
,” Jon countered. His eyes smoldered, and he took a step toward her.

Abby held up her hands to keep him at bay. “Nice try, Jonathon. If only we could bottle that formidable charm of yours and use it for good instead of evil.”

Jon put his hands on his hips and grinned. “Kidding. But admit it—you
do
still find me charming.”

“Yeah, you’re a veritable prince. But seriously, Jon, I really do hope you and David can get along, for my sake,” Abby said. “Anyway, I really need to go find him. He was supposed to call me, and he hasn’t. I have a bad feeling that something is wrong. That he’s in danger.”

The cocky grin vanished from Jon’s face. “From those shadow things, you mean?”

“Yeah. I told him about Cai Terenmare.
That’s
what we were doing all last night, by the way—talking,” Abby assured him. “He believes me, and we’re going to repair the portal tonight. I’m headed to his house to make sure he’s okay.”

“Well, you can’t walk there in this storm,” Jon said. “And if those creatures are out there waiting for you, there’s no way I’m letting you go alone. I’ll drive.”

Jon jogged back into his house and grabbed his car keys from the side table by the front door. As he backed his car out of the garage, he saw that Abby had taken refuge on his front porch. He felt guilty for forcing her to stand in the rain while they talked, so he made up for it by pulling up as close to the porch as he could so she wouldn’t get any wetter.

He was sorry for acting so jealous about her and David. That she hadn’t objected to him driving her to David’s house was a sign he hadn’t done irreparable damage to their friendship. If it would make Abby happy, he would try to make amends when he saw David. That didn’t mean Jon trusted him, though. He still thought the guy was going to rip out Abby’s heart sooner or later. It was only a matter of time before she got hurt. But at least Jon and Abby were still talking—he’d be there for her no matter what happened with David.

Abby got in and buckled up. “Thanks for coming with me. I’m glad I don’t have to do this alone.” She took his hand and squeezed it.

Jon nodded and put the old Mustang in drive, exiting the muddy driveway. “What do you think we’ll find when we get to his house?”

“I’m not sure, but—Jon, I swear I saw one of the Shadows at the inn last night.” Abby filled him in, starting with when she fled the ballroom after the confrontation with Moira, and ending with when she told David the truth about his origins.

Jon listened, trying to keep an open mind, insane as it sounded. They had been friends far too long for him not to believe her. Still, it was hard to wrap his mind around the idea that these things she kept seeing might actually exist outside those strange dreams of hers. He had never seen anything even remotely close to that—not even El Cucuy, the spooky Mexican closet monster his mom told him about once. The mere idea of the Shadows gave him the creeps. Once they got to David’s house and saw he was okay, they could take him to the queen and all this craziness would be over. He hoped.

Suddenly, through the blurred glass of the windshield, Jon could see a single headlight bobbing toward them in the rain, speeding fast in the wrong lane. He hit the brakes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Abby brace herself against the dashboard, her seatbelt cinching her in tight. The Mustang’s brakes locked, sending the car skidding along on the wet road. Jon wasn’t going to be able to stop in time. The motorcycle accelerated and cut to the right at the last second, tipping wildly.

The car kept skidding and then stopped abruptly as it slammed into something solid. Jon hit his head on the steering wheel. As he slumped forward, he felt Abby reaching for him. “No, no,
no
…” she said, repeating the word like it was a prayer.

Groaning, Jon lifted his head from the steering wheel and with shaking hands rubbed the bulging goose egg he felt forming. “Owwww…”

“Are you okay?” Abby asked, taking his face in her hands, inspecting his injury.

“More or less. Ow—don’t
touch
it,” Jon whined when her fingers brushed the bump on his forehead. He started to squirm away from her, but he twisted his neck too much and the pounding pain in his head increased. He submitted to being mothered. “You?”

“Shaken up, but yeah, I’m fine,” she said, looking him over. She released him, apparently satisfied that he would live. “What did we hit?”

“No idea. I remember seeing the bike skid by and then, bam! We got hit out of nowhere.”

“You didn’t see anything?” Abby asked.

“No…maybe. Some kind of large, black animal—a bear?” Jon craned his neck over the steering wheel, trying to peer through the streaks of water pouring down the windshield. The rain was relentless. Jon realized that during the collision he must have accidently hit the off switch for the windshield wipers. He turned them back on. They scraped halfway across the glass and died.

Suddenly, something banged against Abby’s window. She jumped and let out a small scream. The banging continued, the frantic beating of a hand against the glass. The motorcycle rider wrenched off his helmet and tugged at the handle of the passenger door, trying to get in.

“It’s David.” She tried without success to yank open her door—the lock was jammed, and she couldn’t get it to release. “Help me unlock the door—he wants us to unlock the door!” she yelled.

“Oh! Sorry—stupid
, tricky locks.” Jon reached over and released the lock.

David opened the door and slid in, sharing the seat with Abby. He slammed the door closed and punched the button for the lock. His eyes were wild and frightened. He didn’t say a thing, but stared out the windshield, looking for something.

I almost killed him,
Jon thought.
If he hadn’t turned the bike in time…
“Are you okay, man? I almost ran into you.”

David turned to look at Jon. “I know. It’s what I was betting on.”

Jon was incredulous. “What? Are you
crazy
? You were driving on the wrong side of the road
on purpose
?”

“Yes. Sorry about your car. But you hit the thing dead on target.”

“The thing?” Abby asked.

David nodded. “Yeah. Remember my nightmare monster? Well, guess what—it’s back. And it’s trying to kill me.”

As if on cue, the whole vehicle shook as something massive peeled itself from the crushed grill of the car. A muscled, hairless cat beast emerged and placed its front paws on the hood of the car, its wicked talons screeching against the metal. Its eyes glowed dull red in the black abyss of its sockets. Spotting its intended prey in the vehicle, the creature flattened its small ears and growled, a low, reverberating sound. Jon could feel the vibrations of that sound as it passed through the floorboards, echoing through the car’s battered frame, shaking the vinyl bucket seats. The beast’s ragged muzzle was pulled back, revealing a mouth full of needle-sharp teeth.

“Holy crap,” breathed Jon
in the understatement of the year. He knew what the thing was going to do next. It was going to climb the hood slowly, toying with them before crushing in the windshield and eating them all alive.

David unbuckled Abby’s seatbelt and then strapped himself in with her. He said something to Jon, who was transfixed by the creature. Jon turned to David. “What?”

“Put the car in reverse,” David repeated. “Back up quickly. Then hit the gas and ram that thing.”

Jon nodded. Effective methods for slaying psychopathic cat beasts had not been covered in school, but
they should have been.
Note to self,
he thought,
if we survive this, Dr. Buchan should add, “monsters with personality disorders” to her syllabus. It’s really important to be prepared for this kind of thing.
The screeching of the cat’s claws on the hood underscored that point.

“Hey, you heinous hell-fiend—now you’re messing with my car.” Jon revved the engine and threw the Mustang into reverse, putting some distance between them and the creature. The beast seemed undeterred as its front paws slid off the car to the ground. It sat back on its haunches, confident, its scrubby tail twitching. Was it laughing—
actually laughing—
at them?

“I’ll give you something to laugh about, Chuckles.” Jon smiled grimly to himself. He patted the Mustang’s steering wheel affectionately.
Sorry, baby,
he thought.

Then he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal. The car peeled out and sped forward.

The creature was not amused. It stood its ground, growling, bracing itself for impact. The car hit it all right—hit it and plowed over the top of it, settling onto two tires at an angle, with the beast underneath.

“Is it dead?” Jon asked.

“I doubt it,” replied Abby and David at the same time.

Jon looked at them. “Seriously?”

“Unfortunately, yes. We need silver to kill it,” Abby explained.

“What, like a werewolf?” Jon asked.

This time David answered. “More than you know. Quick—everybody out before it turns us over and crushes us. Aunt Moira’s place is just over there, and I know she’s got silver in that house.”

Abby and David followed Jon out the driver’s side door and ran toward the Buchans’ Victorian
home in the rain, which had slowed to a drizzle. As they were passing through the front gate, the Mustang began to rock violently back and forth while the beast tried to crawl free.

By the time they had reached the front door, a loud crash reverberated behind them as the car tipped all the way over and the creature wrenched loose. The beast leapt on top of the overturned vehicle, causing the windows to shatter and the roof to cave in.

“My car!” Jon cried. He looked distraught. Abby felt bad for him—she knew how much he loved his car.

“Sorry, Jon,” she said, “but we
really
have to go. It’s coming.”

And it was—the beast fixed its eyes on Abby and grinned. It was a mischievous, satisfied grin that would have appeared playful had it not been on the ugly mug of a bloodthirsty monster that wanted to rip her throat out. Abby pulled on Jon’s arm while David opened the front door.