The Stolen: An American Faerie Tale (24 page)

The hood shimmered and the racing stripes now glowed with symbols Edward didn't recognize. Magic came off the stripes and surrounded the car. Looking behind him, Edward saw the other cars in close pursuit, all of them with the same glowing writing in the stripes.

Edward turned back around and flinched when he saw a car just ahead of them, right in their path. “Ah!”

The car moved to the side, allowing them all to pass.

“You okay?” Dante asked without looking over.

“Couldn't you have warned me first?”

Dante chuckled a little, glanced at the GPS unit mounted on the dash, and turned onto the interstate. There, like on the city street, cars just moved aside for them.

“Some kind of car glamour?” Edward asked. “I mean, Boston drivers don't even move over for cops.”

Dante shrugged. “We live here. Don't you think we'd find a quick way to get around?”

Edward eased his death grip on the armrest. Despite knowing it was a bad idea, he glanced over at the speedometer. It was bouncing between 110 and 120. When a state trooper pulled aside and let them pass, he wondered if anyone had ever gone that fast through Boston, and if he could get one of these cars when this was done.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-­NINE

E
dward watched, more exhilarated than scared, as they approached downtown. His excitement ended, however, as they crossed the Bunker Hill bridge. He heard automatic gunfire erupt from behind them. He ducked down and then looked back.

Faolan was standing up through a hatch in the roof of his car and was firing up at something that Edward couldn't see. As they entered the tunnel under the city, two of the enchanted Mustangs pulled up on either side of Faolan's car; Quinn was firing from one, Riley from the other. Edward struggled to see what they were shooting at when something black with wings came out of nowhere. Quinn and Riley turned their stream of fire on it.

“Banshees,” Dante said. “Cover your ears.” He swerved sharply, avoiding one that came right at the windshield. He rolled down his window and drew a pistol.

Edward put his hands to his ears and saw more of them encircling the group of cars. The banshees seemed to be coming out of the darkness itself. Somehow, the other cars on the road didn't react any differently. They just kept moving aside as the elves darted back and forth, dodging and firing.

Dante fired off several shots and took an exit. In moments, they were out of the tunnel and back on city streets. The GPS said they were closing on their destination.

Edward's heart felt as if it was going to explode when the air was torn apart by a high, shrill scream. His stomach dropped as a complete and devastating fear took hold of him, shutting down his brain. He vaguely heard windows breaking around him as he began to shake uncontrollably. He barely noticed that everyone kept firing as they tore down the streets and flew around corners with tires squealing.

“Hold on!” Dante threw the wheel to the left and the car slid sideways before coming to a stop.

Edward slammed against the inside of the door, shaking and still unable to move or think. The other cars slid to a stop around them, creating a circle of steel.

One of the banshees reached for Edward through the window, its hand passing through the glass as if it didn't exist.

He screamed as he saw the face of an old woman who'd been tortured for decades and dead for years. Her eyes were red, and the mouth stretched in a shriek, exposing twisted yellow teeth. On her back were incorporeal wings.

Dante fired his submachine gun. Edward pulled himself into a fetal ball, trying to squirm away as glass rained down on him. The bullets struck the banshee and her wings. Puffs of darkness burst from her wounds, and she fell to the ground.

“No, no, no!” Edward closed his eyes tight and pressed his hands harder to his ears, trying to block out the wailing. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst. “It's hopeless, all hopeless,” he whispered.

Dante opened his door, rolled out, and began shooting.

Edward sat there, alone and terrified, until somewhere deep inside him, in a place the fear hadn't gotten to, something stirred. At first, it was anger, but he soon realized the anger was just at the surface. Deeper and stronger was love. It surprised Edward. He wasn't thinking of those who'd taken Fiona, but of Fiona and Caitlin themselves. It was a warmth that melted away the fear. The warmth was powerful and persistent, not like that flash of anger. And, unlike the anger, this calmed his mind and heart.

Edward opened his eyes, then his door, and stepped out. Everything was moving in slow motion. He noticed there was no sound at all, but maybe going deaf was for the best.

He watched the silent pandemonium around him with detached horror. A banshee came from behind Nollaig and lifted him from the ground. It twisted his head and tossed him through the air, where he vanished from sight.

Riley's gun clicked empty. He jumped onto the hood of his car and then through the air, toward the banshee that had taken Nollaig. In midleap, he drew his swords and cut. The banshee dropped like a stone, and Riley tucked into a ball, rolling as he hit the ground. He came to his feet with both swords ready, and in moments, oíche and small, stunted creatures with bright red stocking hats were on him.

Daire fired into another banshee that was coming straight at him. Her face erupted in bursts of darkness, but her speed carried too much momentum. She hit Daire and drove him over the hood of the car and into the asphalt, where they both slid for several feet, then neither moved.

Edward reached into the warmth that had now spread through his whole body and gathered it to him. He raised his hand and spoke softly. “
Aer
!” He heard nothing, but a blast of wind struck a banshee from above and drove her down until she hit a parked car, which crumpled. Clouds of darkness filled with tiny red lights exploded from the dozens of wounds where the car's bare steel had cut her. In seconds, the banshee vanished.

Dante was shouting at Edward. Faint sounds began to grow at the edge of his perception.

“Can you hear me?” Dante screamed.

The noise of the battle abruptly returned. “Yes,” Edward said.

“We can't stay here,” Dante said. “We have to get to the warehouse.”

Edward saw the others closing in, trying to defend them. The other elves leapt over cars and evaporating banshee corpses. At the edge of his mind, Edward felt a slight buzzing. He tried to push it back. He was going too big. He had to keep his magic small and focused.

“Go, now!” Dante drew his swords, ran up and across a car, and leapt. In a move that any kung-­fu star would envy, he spun in midair, cut through two banshees, and landed in a roll. He cut down an oíche as he sprang to his feet.

Edward drew up his courage and climbed over the car. There was a flash in the corner of his eye and the bark of gunfire. He dove for cover as several oíche began shooting at them. Everyone huddled on the far side of the car.

Padraig popped up and fired, dropping two oíche before his gun clicked empty. He replaced the magazine and turned to Dante. “We're getting overrun.”

“Keep moving, and protect the wizard.” Dante sprang to his feet and charged the oíche.

Faolan, Arlen, Quinn, and Sean moved between the cars as they fired, but soon they were pinned down. The elves circled around Edward as best they could, continuing to fire at the banshees and countless other dark creatures. Over and over, they emptied magazines, replaced them, and then emptied those, but more creatures kept coming. However, less and less return gunfire could be heard. Edward hoped that meant the oíche were running low on ammunition as well.

One oíche bounded over a car at them, no gun, but with teeth and claws bared.

Quinn drew and swung his swords at it.

The oíche twisted, barely missing the blade, and landed on the far side from Quinn. Then it came at Edward.

Edward focused his will on the hood of the car. “
Denu haearn
!” Magic leapt from him and the hood flipped open, hitting the oíche square in the face. It was knocked back into the roof and through the windshield. Edward could just hear the shrill, dying scream as light-­tinged darkness seeped from around the edge of the bent hood.

Steel, use the steel! Steel has iron in it!

There was a pop and Quinn looked confused, then saw a growing golden spot on his chest. He touched it and tendrils of white light, filled with tiny blue motes, drifted away from a small hole in his vest. There were several more pops and Quinn jerked, then fell to the ground, revealing an oíche standing on another car's roof behind him. It had some kind of high-­powered rifle leveled right at Edward.

He focused again. “
Denu haearn
!”

Again, the hood popped up. This time, there was a crashing sound, then the oíche tore the hood from its hinges and tossed it aside. Edward's stomach dropped as the oíche grinned, raising the middle finger of a gloved hand at him.

“Gloves? Are you kidding me?” Edward asked.

The oíche smiled as it took aim with the rifle.

In that moment of panic, Edward had an idea. He focused his attention. “
Tân
.”

For a brief moment, nothing happened. Then there was an earth-­shattering boom as the fuel tank of the car ignited and exploded. The oíche flew through the air like a comet, and satisfaction coursed through Edward. Until, that is, other cars caught fire and began exploding, and flaming debris began raining down.

“Move, now!” Dante shouted.

The elves dodged falling wreckage and hurried Edward toward the warehouse at the end of the block. He stumbled as a large melted piece of, well, something, crashed into the ground, inches away. A firm hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him several feet back.

Dante stared at him. “Don't do that again, please,” he said in a calm tone.

Edward didn't have time to apologize. Dante pulled him to the ground just before a series of bullets hit the car.

“The steel is exposed on these,” Faolan said. “Keep your distance.”

Dante popped his head up and looked around. “We can't stay here. Get everyone inside!”

They made their way toward the front of the warehouse.

As they moved, Edward saw a ­couple more oíche leap over a car, each holding a chrome pistol pointed at him.

“
I mi
!” Magic surged from him.

The pistols leapt from the oíche's hands, and they watched with wide eyes and opened mouths as the pistols flew through the air to Edward.

They struck his chest, sending a wave of pain through him, and he fumbled not to drop them. “Here!” he shouted and held them out to Dante.

Dante took the offered weapons and, with a pistol in each hand, began firing at the oíche and their allies.

They reached the door, and the elves closed in around Edward. Oíche, goblins, pùcas, banshees, the red-­capped things, and other dark creatures emerged from the shadows every time they turned. There wasn't an army of them, but they seemed to be everywhere.

“Get that door open,” Dante said. “Now!”

“What I wouldn't give to have the Fian here.” Sean began trying to kick the door down.

“They're regrouping. We can't hold this position, it's too open,” Faolan said.

Sean continued to kick at the door, but it wasn't budging.

“Can't you shoot out the lock or something?” Edward asked.

“Only if we were in a movie,” Dante said.

The elves around Edward were firing the last of their bullets. This was going to go hand-­to-­hand soon. There was a pulling feeling in his stomach, and Edward thought he was going to vomit. Someone was drawing a ton of power. Panic ran up his spine, but he closed his eyes tight. He couldn't be out of the fight, not yet. He still had a job to do.

They needed cover and time to get the door open. Edward looked around but didn't see anything useful. They were crouched in a semicircle, with only an awning above them. There were, of course, several flaming and smoking remnants of cars around them, but—­

It was risky, but they didn't have much of a choice.

“Watch out.” Edward drew as much power into him as he could manage. “
Tymestl
!”

When he let the magic loose, a small tornado rose up around them, flinging dirt, rocks, debris, and anything the size of, say, a prepubescent-­sized dark faerie in all directions. Several oíche were blown off their feet and hurled through the air. They smashed into buildings, the ground, and anything else that got in their way, including their larger allies.

Edward focused as hard as he could against a pounding headache, trying to direct and channel the focal point of the spinning wind while the elves around him huddled down, shielding their eyes. The effort of holding the magic cyclone was actually starting to make his hands ache. Then, finally, a few cars began to tumble and roll down the street toward the elves. Several stacked around them in a haphazard shelter, their fires blown out by the wind.

The torrent died as Edward staggered and began to fall. Someone caught him and lowered him to the ground as the ice pick drove deeper into his temples. “I think I blew a fuse,” Edward said.

“You still with us?” Dante asked.

Edward sucked in a breath and nodded. “I think it's starting.”

“Sean?” Dante asked.

“It's a no go, the door is solid. We should've brought explosives.”

Looking at the door, Edward was surprised it hadn't rusted off its—­

He smiled. “Let me try something.” He pushed himself up to his wobbly legs and focused his intent, ignoring the throbbing in his head.

“
Cyrydu.
” The door shook, and a crashing sound came from inside the building. He focused harder, and soon a dirty red color flooded over the hinges. In seconds, they crumbled to rust, and the door toppled over, falling into the street.

“Magister, go,” Arlen said. “We'll hold them here. Get the wizard inside and stop it.”

Dante shoved Edward toward the doorway as the world around him spun faster.