Blackbird Broken (The Witch King's Crown #2) - Keri Arthur Page 0,50

down to check, a bird carrying a set of knives would attract the attention of normal drivers, let alone one who may have been dealing with my brother for close on six years.

Once she’d turned onto the M6, her speed increased. I kept her in sight by flying across country, but I didn’t push my speed. I had no idea just how long I’d have to fly after her, and I needed to conserve some strength.

The day grew darker—colder—and a drizzly rain set in. I cursed, but it was at least better than a full-on storm—although if the clouds on the horizon were anything to go by, that’s what would soon strike.

The old Ford Estate continued toward Penrith, but didn’t enter the heart of that lovely old city. Instead, she turned onto a road that went toward Redhills and then onto another road that wound its way through the gently rolling countryside, heading toward a large body of dark water. It was obviously one of the lakes, given we were now in the Lakes District National Park area, but I couldn’t say which one. It wasn’t Windermere, though—it was smaller and a different shape.

As she neared the top end of the lake, she turned onto a lane that looked to be little wider than her car and continued on, pulling over a couple of times—once to allow enough room for a tractor going the other way, and a second time to allow a fast-moving black van to get ahead of her.

The lane wound through a number of thickly forested areas, more or less following the lake’s shoreline. Up ahead, in the distance, was a yacht club and another caravan area—was that her destination? If so, why? Surely she’d have to know that—come night—she wouldn’t be safe. Not in the middle of a town, and certainly not in the middle of nowhere.

Either she didn’t know Darkside—or at least, Winter—could track her children, or she’d purchased some form of protective spell.

I hoped it was the latter. I suspected it was the former.

The lane swept closer to the lake. As she disappeared into another short but thick-forested strand of trees, I flew over the canopy and waited for her to come out on the other side.

Two minutes passed, then three, then five. No sign of her. And absolutely no sign of that faster moving black van, which should have appeared at least a couple of minutes ago.

I swore—the sound coming out a harsh squawk—and arrowed down, swooping in under the canopy, but remaining high.

I smelled the fire before I saw her car. It was sideways across the road, the rear end hard up against the front of a black van. A second van blocked the road behind her; as I swooped closer, its rear door slid open and three men got out.

Gianna obviously didn’t see them. She was too busy throwing flames at the two men from the first van. One of them was on fire, his clothes and skin sloughing from his body as he leapt over the roadside edge and plunged down the hill toward the water. The other had taken refuge behind the van; every few minutes he popped out from behind his cover, unleashed a couple of gunshots, and then jumped back. Bullets pinged off the Estate’s roof, the road, and the nearby trees. Either he was a very bad shot or he was deliberately missing in order to keep her attention while the men in the other van crept up on her.

I dropped from the canopy and shifted shape as I neared the ground. The man behind the van spun as I landed and, in one smooth movement, he raised his gun and fired. I swore, dove away, and then rolled onto my knees and raised the daggers. I had no time to either untie or unsheathe them; I simply pointed and called to the inner storm. It answered swiftly and sharply, blasting past the leather tip of the sheaths with enough force that I was flung onto my butt. The twin bolts of lightning hit the gun, peeling it apart like butter before smashing into the man’s chest. He didn’t even have time to scream.

As his ashes fluttered to the ground, I thrust to my feet and raced around the rear of the nearest van. “Gianna, behind—”

I cut the rest of the sentence off as the van’s door opened; the driver jumped out, his gun raised and blasting. A bullet burned across my forearm, another clipped my