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Queasiness roils in my stomach by the time we make it out the other side and onto the highway, heading back toward Clearhelm.
I slump and rest my head against the seat, closing my eyes.
Gentle fingers comb through my hair, then find my temples and massage them. “Are you okay?”
“Just a little motion sickness.” I reach up to touch the back of Sharpe’s hand. “How’s your shoulder? That didn’t dislocate it again, did it?”
I’m only half teasing with the question.
“Everything is still intact. This certainly isn’t the getaway from prison that the movies led me to expect.” His thumbs stroke down the tense muscles in my jaw. “I’m glad there was no high-speed chase.”
“Those are the best, though!” Savannah calls back. “Playing cat and mouse with the cops is a hoot!”
Sharpe leans forward to whisper in my ear, “I’m glad our team is a little more mellow than Trent’s team. I’m not sure I could keep up with them.”
I smile and turn my head to catch his lips in a soft kiss.
When I pull back, I smile at him. “I like our team, too.”
“Save the making out for after we win the war,” Savannah hollers. “Post-battle sex is always better.”
With a sigh, Sharpe leans back in his seat.
As we drive, Savannah peppers us with questions about the Bone Man, and we fill her in on what we know, which isn’t much.
Mayn adds in the little she remembers from stories of the ancient being, which turns out to be more about the full-scale slaughter it’s capable of if allowed to roam. It seems nothing is known about its origin or the steps taken in the attempt to destroy it before it was locked in the Between.
We killed the smaller version, though, so I don’t think defeating it is an impossible task. We have better weapons now, and a team of paranormals working together that our ancestors wouldn’t have had. Not with the history of antagonism that exists between the Others.
Bailey may think we failed in bringing together the various races to live in harmony, but this is the best things have been between our people and the humans in my memory, and I desperately want to protect it.
It’s not our fault that a bunch of monsters escaped their prison, but we’re doing our best to keep this small corner of our world from being destroyed.
Savannah pulls up to a large, rundown warehouse. Boards cover the windows, and junk fills the parking lot where people have discarded broken-down vehicles, appliances, and trash.
Sharpe leans forward, his arms on the back of my seat. “This is the safe house?”
“It looks prettier on the inside,” I assure him.
Savannah drives past the boarded-up entrance to the side where rusted bay doors line the wall. More junk fills the pavement, but a path leads to the large door at the back. Heavy rust paints the illusion that it won’t move, but it soundlessly rolls up at our approach, and Savannah drives into the building.
Several matching black SUVs form a double row, and Savannah drives past them to park off to the side next to one of our vans.
Sharpe lets out a low whistle. “Why are you better funded than the JTFPI?”
“Because my bosses aren’t assholes.” I pop open my door and hop out.
Sharpe joins me, his wide eyes taking in the pristine interior of the building, which is the complete opposite of what it looks like on the outside. “If you have this, why do you work out of an office at the back of the psychic shop?”
“That’s the public face.” Marc shuts the car door. “This is the shit-hit-the-fan backup plan.”
“You should see the one on the east coast.” Savannah appears from around the front of the truck and walks backward toward the walled-in office area at the back. “It’s twice this size.”
Sharpe turns to stare at me. “How many of these do you have?”
“Wehave them all over the world.” I poke him in the chest. “Youset them up for doomsday, because you’ve always planned for the worst.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t remember reading about that in my history book.”
