rolled back over the seat so he was kneeling between Newman and me. "Open the sunroof," he said.
"If you had this, why didn't you use it on the tree?" I asked.
"It's the last one I have," he said.
"Last one," Newman said. "How many did you have?"
"Three."
I said, "Don't argue, just open the door. Watch the road edge and the sky and be ready to jump back in when Tilford guns it."
"Why not just aim through the windows?"
"Because we can't watch the sky as well from the window."
"But . . ."
"Just do it," Edward said.
Newman glanced at me, then at Edward, and opened his door. I did the same on my side. When I was standing with one foot on the ground and the other on the running board, MP-5 snugged at my shoulder, I said "Edward."
"Anita?"
"Do it."
I heard him slithering up through the sunroof. I just trusted that he was halfway through the sunroof.
Tilford asked, "Do you want me to start easing up toward the roadblock?"
"No," Edward said, "we don't know what they put in the pile; better farther away until it blows."
I kept staring out at the moonlight and trees as I said, "What could they put in the pile to make it dangerous?"
"Ask me later," Edward said. I heard him move again. Enough that it made me glance back to find that he was standing on the headrests on the front seats, as if height were important.
I got a glimpse of Newman staring, too, and pointed at my eyes, and at him, and back out into the night. He went back to looking sort of guilty, as if I hadn't been doing the same damn thing. I went back to glancing up at the star-filled sky, and then down at the trees. Nothing moved but the wind. It made the leaves shudder and gave that sound that always makes me think of Halloween, as if the leaves are skittering across the ground like little mice. Normally I like the sound, but tonight it was distracting, and the leaf movement made me jumpy.
Newman shot into the dark. It made me jump. Newman yelled out, "Sorry."
"Nothing there, Newman," Edward said.
"I said, sorry."
"Get a grip, rookie," I called.
Tilford spoke from the front. "We all shoot at shadows when we're new, Blake."
He was right, but I'd apologize to Newman later if I needed to. I went back to watching my own windy section of trees, and dark sky, and road. They came onto the road behind us, two of them in the same long black cloaks and white masks. It made them anonymous, impossible to tell if they were new Harlequin or ones we'd seen before. The only thing I was almost certain of was that they weren't the ones Edward and I had wounded in the woods. These two moved in a slow, athletic glide. The moment they moved, I knew they were wereanimals and not vampires. Vamps move like people, just more graceful.
I called, "Newman, watch in front. I've got the shifters behind us," I said.
There was a whoosh like the world's biggest bottle rocket overhead. The heat pushed at the back of me, so that I flinched and dropped to one knee, turning as I did it to bring the MP5 up to aim at the Harlequin behind us. The explosion from in front of us made me flinch again and want to turn that way, but I had to trust Newman to handle anything in that direction. I knew there were two Harlequin behind us, and I knew I was fast enough to wound them; I didn't know the same of Newman.
But there was only one thing in the road now. It was on fire, a blazing, burning shape, so bright that it chased back the dark in fire shadows, as it crouched on the road.
I heard Newman say, "Holy Jesus."
It made me glance behind me to the roadblock that wasn't there anymore. The road was clear. Tilford yelled, "Blake, get in!"
I got to my feet, the gun aimed back at the figure in the road. I realized he wasn't crouching; he was trying to shift form. I stood on the running board, one hand on the handle by the roof, the other pointing the gun at the burning mass in the road. Did he think shifting form would help him heal, or put out the fire? Or maybe it was all he could think to do. Then he started to scream. It was a low growl of