Touched by Fire (Demons of New Chicago #1) - Kel Carpenter Page 0,47

stolen or jacked. I was going to need it to get back to Bree when this was all over.

If I could end it . . . I pushed the thought aside. Doubts wouldn’t help me now.

We’d formulated a plan. All we had to do was play it out.

I pulled into a back lot that was deserted. Everything in it was broken down and trashed. The Honda with its cloaking device on would fit right in.

Quiet settled over us, followed by the screech of wind as I cut the engine.

“Are you sure you can do this?” I asked her quietly. “Because if you can’t—”

“Piper, you said it yourself, I know how to lie and manipulate. I don’t like doing it, but because of the family I grew up in, I learned from the best. I can get you in there. You’re the one that’s gotta hold on after that.” Her brown eyes were serious. I saw that glint of amber again. It was only a sparkle for a fraction of a second, then it disappeared. “What?” she asked when I didn’t respond.

“Nothing.” I shook my head and reached for the door. “Let’s do this.”

The wind caught the door part way and flung it open. Cold hit me in the face. Crisp and clarifying. I hated the cold. At least it wasn’t wet too.

With a dark look at the sky, as if tempting to open up and piss me off, I stepped out of the car and closed the door behind me. My windbreaker only helped so much as I walked around to the back and got slammed by gust after gust.

Windy City indeed, I thought, as I knelt down and felt under the grill for the device. My fingers skimmed the plastic edges, and I tapped the code, pressing each of them against it for just the right amount of time. The air rippled before the spell took effect. Spray paint appeared, and the paint began peeling. The tires deflated, and the glass shattered. The cushions ripped themselves on their own accord, and the steering wheel whined as the metal twisted and snapped.

I looked around, but no one was there to watch the transformation except me and Nathalie. My chest loosened a fraction as I got to my feet and held out a hand.

She blinked. “You just said driving you there wasn’t an option.”

“You’re not driving,” I replied. “You’re holding the keys. I highly doubt they won’t search me, and I don’t want anyone finding them. That car is the only way back to my sister. If this shitshow goes south . . .” I didn’t finish the sentence. Fear wouldn’t help me now. Neither would guilt.

Cold fingers brushed against mine as she took the keys. “It’s going to be fine,” she said so serenely I almost believed her . . . if I hadn’t known by her own admission that she was a capable liar. One half of her pink mouth curved up and twisted in a smirk. “And if it’s not, I trust your ability to figure it out.”

I groaned, the tension dissipating. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Hmm,” she said, touching the side of her mouth like she was thinking. “Probably not.” She shrugged, turning on her heel.

“It’s a viable plan.”

“In so much as you can call it a plan.”

I rolled my eyes, following after. I could disagree until I was blue in the face, but neither of us were yielding. Arguing wouldn’t change that. All it would do was draw unneeded attention to us.

I stepped up to her side, and we fell into an easy rhythm, taking the back alleys through the streets until we reached a more populated part of the city. While supernaturals were more often than not creatures of the night, humans still did most of their dealings during the day. It was safer, especially when there was no one to stop bad things from happening anymore. Not since the government collapsed, and with it, all support systems, including the police. Unless a human had to work with the supernatural directly, they were better off when most supes were sleeping and had strength in numbers. Or so the theory went. Realistically, numbers were a moot point when a werewolf or vampire could slaughter dozens in a minute flat. Human patrol existed to prevent that, or rather to deal with the aftermath when it did. Nothing brought those people back, though, and often the hunters working for patrol died at an early age.