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Cassidy’s breath caught.
Thug vamp didn’t bother turning in the passenger seat to deliver a shot of compulsion. “No, you don’t.”
“Not too bright, are you?” Cassidy ventured. She didn’t shift in her seat but became aware of the small, hard object in her back pocket.
Thug swiveled his head around. “Shut the fuck up already.” More compulsion.
Cassidy forced a derisive smile. “We may be mere mortals, but we are under the protection of someone far more powerful than you. We can’t be compelled.” This earned her a fanged snarl.
Boss vamp at the wheel clapped a warning hand to the thug’s arm. “Knock it off. She’s just trying to bait you. Ignore it.”
“I’m just trying to tell both of you the facts, gentlemen,” Cassidy continued. Provocation was the last thing on her mind, but maybe she could convince them to see the error of their ways before Francesca provoked them to a point where they would lose control and forget about their orders to deliver them alive. “Wouldn’t you rather live your own lives than be forever—literally forever—under Esteban’s boot heel? Or Adilla’s? I mean, that guy is just unhinged. No telling what—”
“I. Need. A. Toilet.”
Francesca still stared straight ahead. The car was moving fast now. Far too fast to distract a driver, even one with supernatural reflexes. Cassidy hoped to God that wasn’t her plan, prayed that Francesca wouldn’t pull out that canister before they had stopped.
“For fuck’s sake. Cross your legs,” boss vamp said. He was past trying compulsion on them.
“I am an old woman who has had three children. My control is limited.”
“Try harder.”
Breathless, Cassidy watched Francesca’s mouth twitch and her eyes narrow. “Too late.”
Boss vamp smacked a fist at the steering wheel and took his foot off the gas. “You can go piss in the bushes then.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” the thug spluttered as the car decelerated with several hard jerks and veered into the outside lane.
“Do you know how hard it is to get piss out of upholstery?”
Under the cover of being jostled about, Francesca pulled the silver canister out of her pocket. Cassidy followed suit, thinking she was just getting prepared. Not so. Next thing she knew, Francesca had stuck her hand out between the window and the passenger seat and jammed down the trigger.
The oily stream struck thug vamp full in the face and splattered away in glittering filaments. His deafening shriek had a tangible force in the car’s sealed confines. He pawed at his eyes, but only got more silver-laced oil all over his face and hands.
It took boss vamp precious seconds to figure out what the hell was going on, but when he did, he turned in his seat and reached for Francesca.
Which was when Cassidy unloaded her canister into his face.
Their combined screams rattled her brain. Francesca pressed her hands to both ears and doubled over in her seat. Cassidy didn’t have that luxury because now the car was out of control and drifting back into traffic. Squealing tires shadowed them. The furious blast of a truck horn sounded practically on top of them.
Heart galloping in her mouth, Cassidy lunged forward and grabbed for the abandoned wheel. The center console slammed into her tender gut. Headlights glared out the front window. She twisted the wheel away. More honking. Taillights, brake lights, swerving, spinning…
The vampires still screamed and thrashed in their seats. Silver glitter everywhere. The smell of blood in the air now, too. From the corner of her eye, she saw hands covered in oozing sores, frantically wiping against already glittering jeans.
Suddenly, the screams became gasps. The hands spread into claws, jerked and fluttered, and went limp.
Silence.
Cassidy had the car moving in a straight line now, which she hoped was an actual lane of traffic. They were slowing down by the second. Keeping one hand ready to grab the wheel, she contorted herself all the way to the front where she straddled the console. The driver did not protest. She spared just enough of a glance to realize that he would never protest again. His face was a grotesque mask of sparkle, his mouth gaping and eye sockets caved in.
Jamming her left leg down beside his, she found the gas and then the brake after maneuvering the vehicle onto the shoulder. She pushed the shift into park.
Her hands trembled on the controls. Vomit tickled the back of her throat. Too close. Much, much too close.
Traffic whooshed past as though nothing had happened. That wouldn’t last. Guaranteed someone had called in their drunken careening, probably reported their plates. Emergency responders were minutes, if not seconds, away. And there would be no vampires around to convince them of anything.
“Francesca,” Cassidy said, voice unsteady. “Help me get this guy out of the driver’s seat. Hurry.” When there was no response, she turned around. Blood trickled from a new gash in Francesca’s forehead. She looked every inch the shell-shock victim. “Francesca. Now. We need to keep moving.”
