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“So great,” I mutter.
It’ll be great if we make it out alive.
“Tonight as we drink from the chalice together,” he continues, “we’ll transcend the mundane world as we leave it behind for good. Our unity, our faith?—”
The wailing sound of sirens cuts through the night as the sound of an entire army of cars screeches onto the grounds.
“Come partake,” he shouts, waving the crowd toward the table. “Don’t let them trample on our unity.”
The crowd quickly migrates in his direction just as a set of footfalls speed their way over from my right and I look to see a dark figure barreling this way, brandishing a gun in his hand.
“FBI, nobody move,” the shadowed figure thunders and it sounds like Stone.
Malcolm lifts an arm to his right. “Code red,” he shouts. “Code red!”
Half the crowd disperses and I bolt for the table where some of the men and women already have a cup in their hands and are reaching for the unholy bowl of doom.
I flip the table without hesitating and watch as the liquid spills from the silver bowl, shining like a sanguine mirror in the moonlight.
I’m snatched violently from behind as the crook of an arm lands tight against my neck. Reflexively, my hands want to pluck him off of me so I can catch my next breath, but I pluck off his hood instead. I twist my head just enough until his eyes latch onto mine.
There he is, Robby Reed, my childhood friend staring back at me with a mixture of horror and something this side of pleasure. It would figure he’d get a rise out of this somehow.
The house to my left erupts in a wall of flames and I look that way in time to see a few men discarding red gasoline cans before taking off into the night.
“Freeze.” Jack Stone bounces in front of us and a dark laugh rumbles through Rob’s chest.
“You think you’re a hero?” he growls the words out. “If I’m dying tonight, so is she.”
In seconds, the area is swarmed with what looks to be every member of the force in the state of Colorado. Guns drawn at screaming people, the house behind us roaring out its own brand of protest.
“Say goodbye to your buddy, Fallon,” Rob pants hard in my ear. “It’s time for us to fly.”
The muscles in his arm cinch, and without putting too much thought into it, I wrap my left leg around his as if it were a pole and land us both to the ground.
He spikes his elbow into my ear in an attempt to pin me down, but I lift my knees to my chest and roll him onto his back as if it were a pro wrestling move.
Jack lands on him, and soon enough he’s got Rob’s arms cuffed behind his back.
“All for what?” I kick him hard in the ribs. “Power? Money? They cut you in on the take, didn’t they?”
“I’m sorry, Fallon,” he grunts. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this—I didn’t want to drag any of you into this.”
“Of course not,” I say. “If anything went south, you were going to pin it all on your new friends, Malcolm and Patty. Why didn’t you just shut them down?”
“I wanted to, but something in me wanted this.” He looks up. “Everything I ever thought I wanted was here—money, power, women, and control.”
I shake my head. “And instead of arresting them, you made a cash grab, among other things.”
A dull laugh rides through him. “You always were the smartest Baxter of the bunch,” he grunts and winces.
My heart rattles unnaturally. “Where is she?” I pant as I scan the grounds. “Where is Erin?”
A thin smile rides on Rob’s face and I fall to the ground next to him, turn him over onto his back, and shake him.
“Where the hell is my sister?” I riot in his face.
“She goes by Angel.” His eyes cinch shut as his chest expands. “She’s in the basement.”
