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It was racing down the road like there was no driver, which was sort of true, since I didn’t think the guy in the driver’s seat was supposed to be there. A third mage had appeared out of nowhere and knocked the real driver aside, just in time for Mircea to vault down the length of the bus and do the same to him. Only when a master vampire knocks you aside, you don’t end up on the floor.
The guy sailed off the bus, flew through the air and slammed face-first into the second story of a nearby building. Which I’d kind of expected. And then he twisted, kicked off the bricks like gravity didn’t apply to him and jumped back on the bus. Which I hadn’t.
I had a second to think that the guy looked a lot like the mage I’d last seen running a marathon inside a time bubble—tall, dark hair, red face—only that couldn’t be right. And then he lunged for Mircea, who had turned his back to grab the reins, and I decided to worry about it later. I jumped after him, yelling a warning I doubted even vampire ears could hear over the galloping horses and the creaking bus and the screaming people.
But it didn’t matter, because some of the passengers had clearly had enough. One fine-looking gent with a monocle tripped the mage with his cane, a burly-looking guy in a butcher’s apron smashed him in the face, and a couple of other men helped flip him over the side and into the street. Which all things considered, probably didn’t hurt him much.
And then he was run over by a speeding coach, which probably did.
At least, I didn’t see him vault back on board before Mircea pulled the real driver back into his seat and grabbed me. “We aren’t going to catch up to her this way,” he yelled.
I nodded, feeling a little dizzy. The Clydesdales pulling the bus were already going as fast as they could, and they weren’t bred for speed anyway. We weren’t going to catch up to Mom on a heavy bus loaded with people, and neither were the mages.
“What’s the alternative?” I yelled back.
“This!” he told me. And flung us over the side.
It happened so fast I didn’t have time to scream before we landed in a mostly empty wagon. The lack of weight was probably why it was beating the bus in the race to get the hell out of Dodge. But it wasn’t beating it by much, particularly after the driver turned around to shout at us and rammed
into the next vehicle in line.
But it looked like Mircea hadn’t planned on staying long, because before I could get a breath, we were jumping onto another wagon and then into a four-wheeled cab, which had gotten close enough for him to grab the door. And then through the back, trying not to step on the occupants’ toes, and out the other side into—
Well, I guess it was a car. Except it looked more like a roofless carriage with no horses and a big stick coming out of the floorboard. It also had a huge, bulbous horn, a couple of foot pedals and a freaked-out driver who was currently dangling from the hand of a master vampire.
“You know, I could use a little more warning next time!” I told Mircea breathlessly, as he dropped the man gently into the road.
He shot me a glance. “Now you know how I feel whenever you shift.”
“I tell you when we’re about to shift!”
“When you remember.” He picked me up and deposited me in what I guess was the passenger’s seat, since it didn’t have a stick. “Fair warning: this is going to be a bumpy ride.”
Yeah, like it hadn’t been so far, I didn’t say, because my ass had no sooner touched leather than we barreled onto the sidewalk, slung around a bunch of people, clipped the side of a shop and then shot ahead.
“Are you sure you know how to operate this thing?” I demanded, trying to get my limbs sorted out.
“This is a Lutzmann. I used to own one.”
“Yeah, but did you actually drive it?”
He just raised an eyebrow and shot ahead, as I frantically searched for a seat belt. Which I didn’t find, because, apparently, they hadn’t been invented yet. Maybe because the car’s top speed appeared to be about thirty miles an hour, which sounds like nothing unless you’re in a vehicle with no sides, a high center of gravity and a stick for steering. I don’t think all four wheels were ever on the ground at the same time as we careened down a street littered with obstacles, half of them living and all of them disapproving.
But however pathetic, our speed was constant, while it looked like the horses pulling Mother’s coach were getting tired. Because a moment later I spotted them, just up ahead.
Mircea must have seen them, too, because he floored it, taking us up to maybe a whopping thirty-five. But it was lucky he had. Because a second later, red lightning lit up the night, shooting just behind us to explode against a building, blackening the bricks and taking out a window.
I whipped my neck around and saw what I’d expected—three damn mages in a coach they’d stolen somewhere. It had two horses and a lightweight body, and damned if they weren’t gaining. And it looked like they held a grudge, because a lot of the bolts blistering through the air were aimed at us.
One took out a row of streetlamps, popping them one after another as a bolt leapt from light to light to light, burning through the night right alongside us. Another hit a swinging pub sign, appropriately named the Fiery Phoenix. The Phoenix went up in smoke and then so did we, as a spell crashed into the back of the car, picking it up and sending it sailing through the air, straight at—
I screamed and grabbed Mircea, shifting us just as he grabbed me back and jumped. The result was a confusing few seconds of shifting and then flying through the air, as his jump ended up taking place on the other side of the shift. And then we landed in a heap, half in the street and half in the gutter, before rolling onto the sidewalk and a lot of unhappy pedestrians.
I barely noticed, too busy watching the car smash into the front of a church. And wedge between two of the pillars. And explode.
And then the bastard mages zipped by us, splashing us with filthy water from a ditch in the street. The one we’d already rolled through. And the next thing I knew, we were clinging to the back of their vehicle as it pelted down the road, past the remains of the little car and into a street on the right.
Mircea must have done it, moving us with that vampire speed that sometimes seemed almost as fast as shifting. Because I sure as hell hadn’t. I wasn’t up to doing much, frankly, except clinging to the leather-bound trunk on the back of the coach and trying not to puke. And then it started raining.
