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He faced Ivy. She was leaning against Jack, supported by the arm he’d wrapped around her waist. “Are you good to continue?” Darien asked her.
“Of course.” She gestured to her bandaged leg. “It’s just a scratch.” She forced a smile, but Darien saw through it.
“You look pale.” He headed for the driver’s door of the truck. “Make sure you eat something.”
“Least I get to drive now,” Jack joked. He laughed when his wife smacked him in the head.
They were behind schedule now, though not by much. Come tomorrow, they’d be in Yveswich.
Come tomorrow, they’d be paying a visit to Caliginous on Silverway. Roark might’ve said the Reverse Chamber couldn’t work miracles, but Darien hoped with everything he had that it would work a miracle for him.
The rest of the ride to Yveswich was quiet and tense. Darien pushed the truck as fast as it could go, ripping through red lights and stop signs whenever he could, his eyes continuously flickering to the rear-view mirror and the girl lying on the seat in the back.
At one point during the journey, Bandit crawled out of Darien’s shadow. The Familiar said nothing as he crept between the front seats and into the back, moving with far more care than usual.
Darien watched in the rear-view mirror, Tanner turning in his seat to watch too, as the dog lay down beside Loren, stretching his mist-lined body out to fit. He laid his head down on her stomach and watched her for a few minutes before closing his eyes.
Tanner shared a look with Darien, but neither of them said anything. Sometimes words just weren’t enough.
15
Solestia
YVESWICH, STATE OF KER
“This some kinda joke, lady?”
Shay Cousens tore her gaze from the grimy window of the mechanic shop and looked for the source of the grumbling voice.
A burly man in grease-coated coveralls was frowning down at her. Part warlock, mostly human.
Shay shifted in her seat, the uncomfortable plastic chair creaking beneath her. The waiting area by the front entrance was empty aside from herself and an old witch reading the newspaper, but the humid shop that stank of tires and oil was alive with activity.
“I’m sorry, what?” She’d already had two cups of coffee, but she still felt like she was half-asleep.
The man’s frown deepened. “You got no engine.” He chucked her keys into her lap with a filthy hand.
“Excuse me?” she snapped. “What do you mean I have no engine?”
“We don’t like pranks around here,” he scolded.
She grabbed her keys and flung herself out of her seat. “This is outrageous! You’re telling me my car won’t start because I have no bloody engine?”
For the first time since this wretched morning had gone sideways—since she’d tried to start up her car to go looking for her sister, only to be met with a hollow click when she’d turned the key in the ignition—the man looked at her like she might actually be telling the truth.
As politely as possible, she asked him, “Where’s your boss?” This had to be some kind of mistake—a joke, or something.
Or a thief had decided to steal her engine.
What kind of thief stole an engine? Of course this would happen to her, of all people! Shay was a master of theft—which meant she was supposed to do the thieving.
Oh, this was ironic! Ironic and plain stupid.
“The boss ain’t here today,” the man said, “but the owner just pulled up.” He nodded toward the big window behind her. “Talk to him if you want, but there’s nothing I can do about your missing engine, unless you want to buy a new one.”
That wasn’t an option—she couldn’t afford a new one, not when she needed to spend all this money she’d stolen on her search to find Anna—but before she could say so, he lumbered away.
The bells on the door chimed, signaling someone’s entry. Shay’s scalp prickled with the familiar feel of the aura she had hoped never to sense again, and when that husky, bass voice filled the room, she felt all the blood in her head rush down to her feet.
