anyone was watching their escape, floodlights would have flashed on and a warning siren would be wailing. Still, that prickling sense of something different stayed with her.
They were at the front gate and Deidre hurried the witches on, waving her hands, pointing at the two black vans waiting for them. The women didn’t need any further encouragement. They took off at a dead run once they were free of the compound and Deidre smiled as they piled into the vans and were driven off.
“Mission accomplished,” she murmured just before she heard a single gunshot from inside the building. It was inordinately loud in the stillness and the echo of its report shocked Deidre like a cold hand that fisted around her heart.
She whipped around and the floodlights snapped on, nearly blinding her. She ran back to the small enclosure she had just left, afraid that Susan had been shot and knowing she had to get her friend out of there before the guards responded to the noise.
From somewhere close, she heard men shouting and she realized they didn’t have long. Heart pounding, straining for breath, she dashed down the hall, then skidded to a stop.
“What did you do?” she demanded.
Susan was standing over a guard, the gun still pointed down at him. A fresh pool of dark red blood had formed around him and continued to grow, spilling across the cement, tracking toward the toe of Susan’s shoe.
“He tried to stop us,” Susan whispered, her voice nearly lost over the sudden shriek of the siren erupting. “I had to do it,” she said, flicking her gaze up to Deidre. “I had no choice.”
“Damn it, Susan,” she cried and reached out to grab her friend’s arm. Pulling with all her strength, she tugged her along behind her, down the hallway, back toward the front of the building and the only escape route they had. “Come on!”
“I had to,” Susan muttered, shaking her head, looking back over her shoulder at the dead man lying in a puddle of blood. “I had to. I had to.”
Deidre kept running, kept dragging a reluctant Susan along behind her. Heart in her throat now, she could hardly draw a breath. Her nerves were screaming and tears blurred her vision and still she kept running. They were locked in now. They had to get out. If they were caught, they’d all be jailed and it wouldn’t be for helping witches escape.
They’d be tried for murder.
And being the president’s daughter wouldn’t save her.
She bolted around a corner, paused long enough to make sure no one was there, then ran for it, tugging at Susan’s arm. She heard a sound behind her. A series of sighs, then a couple of heavy thuds as something hit the floor. Deidre spun around frantically to look. And in that split second, she thought she saw—No.
“Run, Susan! Run!” She yelled it now, no need for quiet and stealth as the sirens wailed and more men shouted, their booted feet crunching on the cold, dead grass.
Susan seemed to wake out of her stupor and suddenly bolted alongside Deidre, the two of them racing for the car they’d left outside the fence. The license plates had been blacked out and there was nothing distinguishable about the plain beige sedan.
They jumped into the car and Deidre put it into gear and stepped on the gas. In moments, they were peeling away from the camp and losing themselves in the darkness.
But nothing would ever be the same again.
Her cell phone rang and Deidre jumped, sloshing wine over the rim of her glass and down her arm. She grabbed the phone, recognized the caller and answered gratefully. “Susan? Are you okay? Where are you?”
“I don’t think I should tell you where I am, Dee,” she said and her voice sounded distant. It wasn’t so much a miles thing as an emotional distance, though.
Deidre set her wineglass down, picked up the remote and turned off the stereo. Somehow, the silky sounds of soft jazz were a discordant note in all of this. “I’ve been so worried. Are you okay? Tell me that at least.”
“I’m fine. Really. I’m just …”
Heart aching, Deidre could imagine what her friend was feeling. Guilt. Misery. Fear. She knew because she was feeling the same thing and she hadn’t killed that guard. Though she might as well have. As far as the courts were concerned, she was as guilty as Susan. Hell, as far as she was concerned, she was guilty. If they hadn’t broken