Mark Del Franco - Skin Deep

A third black car joined them. Laura yanked the wheel as the car sideswiped against her, fishtailed, and swung down the next street. “Do you see the fourth car?”

Sinclair checked the rear window again. “No sign.”

Gathering a burst of essence in her mind, she wrapped it around the memory template of Terryn’s signature and threw a sending. Being pursued off route. Logan Circle heading to the Guildhouse.

She accelerated and made a U-turn at speed. Two cars swept past, but the third came straight on. Stomping on the accelerator, she burned rubber into the pavement. As the SUV pivoted, she veered into the black car and slammed it with her real panel. Skidding sideways, the car danced on its right tires and flipped in a shower of sparks.

“Nice move. One down,” Sinclair said.

Laura checked her mirrors. “Where the hell is that fourth car?”

“I don’t see it either. We’re five blocks off route. You’ve got to make a turn if we’re going to get any help,” Sinclair said.

Traffic blocked their path ahead. Laura shot a look at the rearview mirror. The two remaining cars drew closer. As they careened toward the stopped cars, Sinclair braced himself against the dashboard, and Laura held her breath. With a deft spin of the steering wheel, Laura ran a narrow gap in the jam.

Sinclair whooped. “You can drive!”

One of the black cars made the gap. Laura powered down her window and thrust her arm out. She released a scattered fan of essence, white lighting erupting from her fingertips so fast it made her arm jump. The bolts sizzled across the lane, and one of the other car’s tires blew. It swerved wildly, its momentum fighting the dead wheel, and lurched to a stop against parked cars. The third black car tore past it.

“That’s two,” Sinclair said.

“Four blocks,” Laura said.

A metropolitan police squad car leaped out of a side street. It shuddered left as Laura swerved right. The black car shot past it and gained on the SUV, while the squad car recovered and turned.

“Two more blocks,” Sinclair said.

White streaks of essence flared across the night sky. A sending hit them both. Aerial backup behind you.

The squad car and the black car jostled for space in the narrow street.

Hit your brakes now! Laura sent to the officer. She slammed on her own. The black car swerved to avoid her, jumped the curb, and sailed through a windowed storefront.

“And that’s three,” Sinclair said.

A black blur pierced by blazing headlights sped out of a side street and smashed into their passenger side. The SUV spun. Laura fought the motion, the world smearing in flashes of white-and-red light, cars and buildings spinning past the windshield. She hit a car, then another. Sinclair shouted as the air bags deployed. Blinded, they crashed into something solid. The abrupt stop flung Laura forward into the air bag, the seat belt biting her shoulder and wrenching her back against the seat.

Laura batted against the air bags. “Jono? Jono? Answer me!”

His limp frame hung forward, the seat belt straining to hold him upright. Laura grappled with her belt and wrenched it free. The door was jammed. Furious, she hit it with essence and it flew off with a metallic shriek. She jumped out.

The last black car gunned toward her. She held both arms straight out, fingers clasped, index fingers pointing, and aimed at the oncoming car. From her fingers, a sharp line of essence burned like a spear through the air and splintered on the car’s grill.

Laura swore as the essence flowed around a protection ward on the car. She dragged essence out of the pavement, the asphalt rippling around her with the strain. With a scream, she released it all in a yellow streak like lightning. The ward on the car splintered into fragments of green light, as Laura’s bolt shattered the windshield and detonated inside with a white flash. Glass shards hurtled toward Laura, and she staggered under the onslaught against her shield. The glass hung for a moment, glittering in the headlight glare, then fell to the ground.

Laura swayed on her feet. The Janice glamour wavered, weakened from her dissipated essence. She reached out one more time to the ground beneath her feet, drawing essence out of the earth and into her body. The emerald necklace flared beneath her shirt, a glow that lit her stark features. Panting, she stared at the smoldering black car.

“That’s four,” Sinclair said.

Laura spun. Sinclair leaned against the back of the SUV, an arm wrapped against his ribs. Blood smeared across the side of his head. He cocked a smile. Laura took two long strides and hugged him. “Ouch,” he said.

She let go. She pulled his head down and kissed him with a passion that surprised both of them. When she broke the kiss, he grinned. He lifted his gaze. On the next block, the officers from the squad car approached the gaping hole of the storefront where the other black car had vanished. “There is no way anyone’s going to believe you’re a low-powered druidess after this,” Sinclair said.

Laura surveyed the wreckage. Sinclair was right. If the ripped-open black car wasn’t bad enough, the fragmented asphalt she’d left behind was confirmation that Janice Crawford was more than what she claimed.

Time for another change in plans. “Showtime, Jono. We’ll get people in position as soon as possible, but here’s where you prove you can pull your weight. Play scared and get Foyle on your side.”

“What’s the plan?”

She pushed aside the SUV’s air bag and found her cell phone. Terryn picked up instantly.

“I’m killing Janice Crawford right now. Send a wagon with a body, ASAP,” she said.

Terryn didn’t argue. “Anything else?”

She glanced at what was left of her car. “Yeah. I wrecked another SUV.”

POLICE AND FIREcordoned off the street at either end. The SUV sat like an exhausted beast, its air bags hanging out the doors like ruptured organs. In the surreal flicker of blue, red, and yellow emergency lights, Sinclair stood over Laura’s prone body, which was still glamoured as Janice Crawford. Two EMTs jumped out of a van with a gurney. They looked human, but their appearance didn’t match the essence fields Sinclair sensed. He recognized the shape of Cress’s essence.

Cress made no indication she knew him. “Step aside, sir.”

He moved back as they shifted Laura from the ground to the gurney. “Where are you taking her?”

They moved with a controlled urgency. “GW. You need attention?”

“No.”

Cress climbed in the emergency wagon, and the driver closed her in with Laura’s body. The van rocked as it pulled away. Cress stared at Sinclair’s dwindling figure through the rear door windows. “Is this wise?”

At the sound of Cress’s voice, Laura’s self-induced trance broke. She breathed deeply, stimulating her heartbeat. “Nothing is. Can I sit up?”

Cress checked Laura’s pulse. “Wait a few blocks. What happened?”

Laura rolled her head to stretch. “They came faster than expected and forced us out of the safe zone.”

Cress’s essence feathered over Laura’s body, tendrils curling along the edges of her body signature, sensing its strengths and weaknesses. As always, Laura felt the desire in the touch, the need for essence that Cress fought against. “You have some bruising. Do you want me to take care of it?”

Laura sat up, Cress helping her with gentle hands. “No. I’ll keep them unless I can’t function.”

On the other side of the van, a draped figure lay on a gurney. Laura removed her emerald stone, the Janice glamour blurring and shifting as it slid off her. She handed the necklace to Cress. “Can you charge it? I’m bone-dry.”