Early to Death, Early to Rise - Kim Harrison [48]
My feet skidded on the dew-wet grass when I finally got outside. The night was cool, and I waited, fidgeting and scanning the empty parking lot while Shoe scraped himself out the window. There was a glow on the horizon where the moon was about to rise. Shoe’s feet thumped silently onto the grass, and after a quick look at the distant cop lights, we jogged across the empty parking lot.
“So where’s your car?” I asked, hoping Barnabas and Nakita were being enough of a distraction, but not so big that it made international news.
“I didn’t want it seen at the school, so I parked it down the street,” he said, breathless as we ran. But when we rounded the corner, it was me who stopped dead in my tracks.
Shoe drove a gray convertible. And the top was down.
“No freaking way,” I said, the memory of my heart pounding in a past fear. It looked like the car I had died in. Right down to the leather seats and the key in the ignition.
Shoe jumped over the closed door and turned the key. “Get in!” he exclaimed, surprised to find me six feet back. Behind me, fire trucks were starting to arrive.
I can do this,I thought, carefully opening the door and getting in. It’s not the same car. It’s not the same driver. But the thudding of my heart seemed real enough to shake even the illusion of my body. “Put your seat belt on,” I said as I settled into the rich leather seats as if I were glass and could break.
“We’re only going a couple of miles,” he griped, looking over his shoulder as he backed up, the lights of the cop cars a distant threat.
“Put your seat belt on!” I yelled, and his eyes widened, black in the dim light.
“Okay, okay!” he said, and I glared at him until he did. “Freaky girl.”
“I died in a car just like this,” I said to try to explain myself, then laughed nervously. “Just kidding.” He’d probably stop believing me if he thought I thought I was dead.
He gripped the wheel tighter, not saying anything as he got us on the road and away from the commotion at the school. It wasn’t until we’d gone about a quarter mile that he flicked on the lights, and I breathed easier. “We need to stop at your place and get the patch,” I said, holding my hair out of my face. “Ace might still be there. I don’t know how far into the future I saw that first time.”
Oooooh, I thought, biting my tongue as I realized what I had just said. That was going to be hard to laugh off.
Shoe stared at me as he drove. “Future?” he said softly, as though this was just sinking in, and I winced.
“Can you, um, ignore that last part?” I asked him, and he looked scared.
Anxious and jittery, I closed my mouth before I told him anything that would make him want to kick me out of the car. I still had a chance. It wasn’t too late. I had to make this work. It wasn’t just Ace’s future on the line. It was my own.
Ten
Shoe parked two houses down from his on the other side of the street, frowning at Ace’s truck still at the curb. Getting out without opening the car doors, we ran up the sidewalk, slowing as we neared. Shoe wasn’t in very good shape, even as skinny as he was. The almost full moon had finally risen, helping light the black yards. Ace’s truck was ticking as we passed it, the big engine still cooling. Maybe we were in time. Maybe nothing I’d seen in my flash forward had happened yet.
“You aren’t even breathing hard,” Shoe said, puffing.
“Yeah, well, I run a lot.” Fidgeting at the slower pace, I shivered, thinking it odd that I felt cold at all. “How long will it take to get the patch?” I asked.
Shoe glanced at me. “It will take longer to introduce you to my mom.”
The toes of my sneakers grew wet with the dew, and I glanced at Shoe’s room. The light was shifting as someone inside moved around. Ace? “Your mom thinks you’re still in your room,” I reminded him, thinking he must not go AWOL often.
Shoe immediately shifted direction. “The window it is, then.”
I couldn’t help my smile at