Crimson Wind (17 page)

Chapter 12

THERE WASN’T MUCH TO THE TOWN OF WEED. No big chain stores and no malls. Max wondered where Holt had found his fresh clothing. On Main Street, they found a little thrift store. Max pulled open the doors, her unlocking spells making it easy. Inside, she and Alexander split up as they searched for clothes.

She found a pair of faded Levi’s and a plain brown T-shirt, socks, and a pair of black canvas tennis shoes. She went into the back, looking for a bathroom or a sink to wash off the dried green gore slathering her arms and hands. She found the bathroom and peed. She pulled the knife that Alexander had given her from where she’d sheathed it in her witch-chain belt, then unwound the chain from her waist and pulled off Alexander’s shirt. It still smelled like him. She resisted the urge to rub her face in it and sniff, and instead dropped it onto the back of the toilet.

There was a bar of gritty white soap by the sink that felt like sandpaper. She scrubbed off all that she could and dried herself with a couple of handfuls of paper towels. She dressed, wrapping the witch chain around her waist again and tucking the knife into her rear waistband. She’d have to find underwear someplace else. Not to mention money and a car.

She came out, carrying Alexander’s shirt and her shoes and socks. He was waiting outside. He pushed past her without a word. She grimaced. She didn’t really believe he’d been playing her. At least, his reaction had been angry enough that if he was acting, he was doing a damned fine job. He was still furious.

She rolled her shoulders to loosen them and made herself focus back on what needed to be done. She’d told Jim she’d be in Winters by sunrise. Now, if Alexander drove through the day, they might make it by nightfall, but they’d have to go north and catch a road to the coast and go down Highway 101. It would be a lot slower than shooting down Highway 5 as originally planned. Not only that, but they didn’t have a car or money to pay for gas or any way to keep her sheltered from the sun. They might not get there for another twenty-four hours or longer.

Her stomach churned. If her family had survived, they could even now be fighting for their lives. And the wild magic of Mount Shasta was heading right for them. She might get there only to find they’d become breakfast for some magical saber-toothed tiger or, worse, they’d been transformed into bloodthirsty, ankle-biting critters from hell.

She yanked on her socks and shoes, then hunted around until she found a small office and ransacked it for money, finding only a five-dollar bill and a handful of loose change in the top side drawer. She pocketed it and picked up the phone. She ought to call Giselle and let her know what was going on. There was no dial tone. It was probably too much to hope that there would be. She set the phone back down, her mouth twisting with aggravation. The witch-bitch probably had foreseen this whole mess.

Just then, Alexander appeared in the doorway. He’d found a pair of blue jeans and a black V-necked T-shirt. It fit snugly, emphasizing the muscles of his arms and chest. Of course she’d notice that. Right now, in the middle of a crisis, and she was admiring the scenery.
Brilliant.
Worse, he’d noticed her noticing, and a faint smile quirked the corner of his mouth.
Smug bastard.

“What now?” he asked.

“Let’s go swipe a car. Something with a trunk. We should be able to seal that up well enough for me to ride in.”

“I tried to call Valery to let her know Holt was on the loose. It would not go through. Tried Horngate also. Nothing.”

“Landlines aren’t working, either,” Max said, gesturing to the phone on the desk. “Maybe they’ll work when we get farther away from the eruption.”

Her stomach growled loudly. “I guess we should find some food, too.”

“There has to be a grocery store. As long as we are stealing, that is our best bet.”

He was right. Without money, breaking into a grocery store was always a good choice. They might even find what they needed to light-seal a car trunk. Max grabbed a yellow pages, found the list of stores, and jotted the address for Ray’s Food Place. There was no handy map inside the phone book to tell where it was.

They went back outside. Alexander retrieved the rowan spear from where he’d leaned it inside the door. They turned in unison back toward the freeway. There were people out on the street, talking in low, worried voices and milling about and pointing at the erupting mountain. Most were in their robes or pajamas, and many were barefoot.

Max and Alexander dodged down a side road and found themselves in a quiet neighborhood. They pushed farther in, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Too many windows were lit. Stealing a car here was going to be next to impossible.

“Freeway is a parking lot,” Alexander whispered. “We will have better luck there.”

He was right. Max nodded, and they kicked into a ground-eating run.

It was only a few blocks away. Just before they got there, Max dug to a halt, pointing at the street sign. “Grocery store is around here somewhere.”

They turned right toward the north end of Weed Boulevard. Ray’s Food Place was only a few hundred yards away. They broke in as easily as they had the thrift store. Max grabbed a shopping cart. They breezed through the store, piling the cart high with an assortment of food and drinks. They grabbed paper plates and plastic silverware and napkins, then parked themselves at the deli tables to eat.

They attacked their foragings, ignoring each other as they bolted down their food. Max opened a jar of sweet pickles, fishing out four before passing them to Alexander. He offered her green olives.

It took a half hour before they were sated. Then they went back, grabbing boxes of power bars, jerky, yogurt, cheese sticks, and a variety of other high-calorie quick snacks. They loaded their bounty into canvas bags from the checkout aisles. Next, Max found six rolls of duct tape—all they had. She also grabbed a dozen silver reflective windshield screens.

Last, she went to the office and opened the safe, pulling out the stacked cash drawers. She took all of the paper cash—just over twelve hundred dollars. She found a bag of deposits and emptied it out, finding another two thousand.

“There’s gas and food for a while,” she said, pocketing the money. She shut everything back up, not bothering to wipe away her fingerprints. She didn’t have the time, and with Shasta erupting and the Guardians escalating their war against humanity, she doubted it would make much difference in the long run. No more than stealing would.

She tried the phone again, but there was still no service. She came out of the office and found Alexander waiting. He was holding a bouquet of knives from the butcher room in the back of the store. She took two of them, tucking one into each sock. He followed suit, then added two more to his rear waistband.

Outside, they went around back, crossed a narrow treed lot, and found themselves back on Highway 5. Cars clogged it in a solid mass. There was no way to drive on the road in either direction. Terrific. They’d have to hoof it back north until they could find both a car and some room to drive. Max started to tell Alexander so and then hesitated. There was one last thing she had to do. It would take a little time, but— She didn’t finish the thought. Stupid or not, crunched for time or not, she wasn’t going to just abandon the people they’d saved—Matthew, Amanda, their baby, Baker the biker, Geoff Brewer, and his two sons. Besides, Horngate needed witches, and Amanda was certainly one of those.

“Where did you leave them?” she asked Alexander.

He surprised her when he didn’t ask whom she was talking about. “Up the road a ways.”

“Show me.”

She started away, and he overtook her. They broke into a run, their canvas bags bouncing awkwardly. They must have made quite a sight, Max thought. Not that anyone was looking. Mount Shasta, its red eruption, and the shimmering curtain of the enchantment held every eye hypnotized.

They had not gone far—not even two miles—when they met up with the group they were looking for. Geoff was carrying Amanda, who remained unconscious. He was red and sweating. Matthew walked stoically beside them, the baby crying. Behind came the two boys and Baker. They all looked dour and determined.

They came to a stuttering halt when they saw Max and Alexander approaching. Matthew stepped protectively in front of Amanda, holding his daughter tightly. Baker stepped around on the other side, shielding the rest of her. The boys edged closer to their father. They all smelled of sweat and fear. Like she and Alexander hadn’t saved their asses. Why would they come back and attack? Still, she appreciated the way they protected one another, strangers as they were. They were good people. Horngate needed good people.

“Where are you headed?” Max asked.

“He told us to get out, go north,” Baker said, jerking his chin at Alexander. He’d lost his green bandanna. His hair was mostly brown and clung wetly to his scalp. It was as hot now as it had been earlier in the day. “So we’re heading north.”

“Our mom is in Redding. Is she going to be okay?” one of the boys asked, the one with black hair. His hands were jammed into his pockets, and he was doing everything he could not to look scared. Tough kid.

“I don’t know,” Max said. “Probably not,” she amended more honestly. Telling them lies because she didn’t want them to worry wasn’t doing anybody any favors. “If she survived the initial fall of magic, then she’ll be facing a lot of trouble.” She shrugged. “The odds aren’t good.”

“Dad! We have to go get her,” urged the other son with the bleached hair tips and the half-assed mohawk.

“Then you will all die,” Alexander said. “Max and I almost did not get out of there, and we are a lot better prepared for that world than you are.”

“So what do we do?” Baker asked. “We all live down there—Matt and Amanda are from Sacramento, and I’m from Yuba City. Where do we go now if we can’t go home? Where is safe?” His voice was clipped and hard as flint. Max wondered if he’d been in the military. He had the look of resolute determination she associated with men who’d been ordered into battles they couldn’t win.

“There’s a place in Montana where you can be safe.”

“Safe?” Geoff barked harshly. “Who the hell can be safe anymore with that going on?” He pointed toward the bloody magic pouring out of the top of Mount Shasta. His face was deeply lined, and he swayed under Amanda’s weight.

Alexander set down the bags he was carrying and plucked the unconscious woman out of the other man’s arms.

“‘Safe’ is a relative term,” Max admitted. “Horngate has had its share of troubles, and we’ll be seeing more. But it’s a place to go where you’ll have shelter and food and some protection. But you’ll have to agree to keep the place a secret and obey its rules.”

“What kind of rules?” Baker demanded.

“The kind that keep everybody alive. Any more than that, you’ll find out when you get there. If you want to go.”

“And if we don’t like these rules? If we don’t want to stay at this Horngate place?” Geoff asked.

“Then you can try your luck somewhere else. But this isn’t the only volcano going off, and it isn’t the last magical attack.”

“And Amanda? Is she going to be all right?” Matthew was staring at his wife, looking both worried and fearful.

“She’ll wake up eventually. And then she’ll need some help. She can get that at Horngate.”

He gulped. “Help?”

“Training in her craft.”

He made a face like he had eaten a raw onion. “Witchcraft.”

No doubt his head was dancing with images straight out of
The Wizard of Oz.

“That’s right.”

“I don’t— Will she— What—” Matthew couldn’t put his questions into words. He stroked his daughter’s head, tears running down his cheeks. “Is she still going to be herself?”

Max nodded. “She’ll just be able to use magic.”

“We have to get moving,” Alexander said before Matthew could ask anything more. He backed away, forcing the others to follow after him.

Max picked up the sacks that Alexander had dropped and fell in behind, chafing at their slow progress. She glanced at the eastern sky. Dawn was maybe an hour off. That left them precious little time.

Alexander must have come to the same conclusion, because he increased his pace so that the others were panting as they hurried along, sometimes breaking into a jog to keep up.

“What’s the hurry?” Baker asked breathlessly.

“We have some other business to take care of,” Alexander said. “It is urgent.”

“What’s more urgent than this?”

Neither Max nor Alexander answered.

People watched curiously as they threaded between the parked vehicles, which included motor homes and semi trucks. The stink of diesel fumes could not cover the overwhelming smell of magic.

At last, the stream of cars began to thin. There was no other traffic coming. Police must have diverted it, maybe up by Grenada or Yreka. Max wondered where the emergency vehicles were—she would have expected to see them and the National Guard, too. But maybe they’d been sent elsewhere, like to evacuate the valley cities. Or maybe Mount Rainier had popped its top, too, and there wasn’t enough emergency help to go around.

Alexander stopped, turning in a slow circle. Max eyed the cars around them. Most were empty. Maybe their drivers had gotten out and walked. More than a few were trapped in place by other cars. A gray minivan caught her attention.

“There.”

Alexander passed Amanda to Baker and followed Max. The van was locked, but Max opened it without a problem. Inside was meticulously clean. Satchels of prescription drug samples and a small suitcase filled the rear, and a bar of hanging clothes stretched across the rear seat.

They removed the drugs and the clothing, stacking them on the side of the road. Then they lifted the van and carried it out from between the cars that wedged it in from front and back.

“Ho-ly shit,” Baker said with a low whistle as they turned the vehicle around. “What the hell are you two?”

“What we are is in a hurry,” Max said shortly, waving at them to get in.

They put Amanda in the rear with her husband and baby. They were going to have to do without a car seat. The two teenage boys took the two middle seats, and Baker volunteered to drive while Geoff sat shotgun.