Up in Smoke - Katie MacAlister [51]
“Who is this man you want so badly to follow?” Maata asked in a quiet voice as Cyrene answered a call from one of her concerned sister naiads.
I glanced over my shoulder. Cyrene was busy retelling our meeting with Neptune and probably wasn’t paying much attention. “I think it’s the same man who followed me into the shadow world at the hotel in Paris.”
“What?” Maata shrieked.
The car spun around as she jammed on the brakes, jerking the steering wheel to keep us from going into oncoming traffic. Cyrene cried out as she was bounced around the backseat, ending up on the floor. Thankfully, the cars behind us were at a distance enough to allow them to swerve around us, horns blaring as they made gestures that left us in little doubt as to their opinion of Maata’s driving.
“What in the name of the seven seas is wrong with you?” Cyrene asked, climbing off the floor. “You could have broken my cell phone! As it is, I probably hung up on Thalassa, and she’s the head of the naiads!”
Maata’s eyes were not nearly as bright as Gabriel’s, but they glittered dangerously at me now. “No,” she said.
“We have to,” I said, gesturing toward the distant taillights as they disappeared into the night.
“We are not going after Baltic.”
“You don’t know it’s him,” I argued, frustrated at her refusal.
“Baltic!” Cyrene gasped. “The dead guy?”
Maata’s eyes glowed in the darkness. “Gabriel would kill me if he knew I helped you confront Baltic.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” I said, letting her see the resolution in my eyes. “He wouldn’t be happy, but he wouldn’t kill you. He’s not that sort of man.”
Her lips thinned for a moment. “He wouldn’t physically harm me, no. But his disappointment in me would shame me to death. I cannot do this, May. Do not ask me to.”
“Fine,” I said, getting out of the car and hurrying over to her side, ignoring the wrath of the car occupants coming up behind us. “Move over. I’ll drive. Gabriel can be as pissed at me as he likes—I’m not letting this guy get away from me again.”
Maata was going to refuse, but I didn’t give her a chance. She might be several inches taller and several pounds heavier than me, but I simply dropped my shoulder and shoved her over into the passenger seat, quickly getting the car back onto the highway.
“Cyrene, check the map,” I said, flipping on the overhead light and clamping my foot down on the accelerator in order to catch up. “See if there are any major towns coming up.”
“Not immediately, but Santa Cristina is about seven kilometers from here.” She looked up, a happy smile on her face. “That’s on a lake that’s fed by my spring. I can pop over and detoxify it quickly, and take care of that item on my list. Oh! I should call Thalassa back.”
Maata made an almost inaudible intake of breath at Cyrene’s words, but all my senses were on red alert as I wove in and out of traffic, my eyes searching the blackness ahead for a pair of familiar taillights.
I shot her a quick look, but her face was impassive. “What’s in Santa Cristina?” I asked.
She hesitated for the count of ten. “That is where Fiat Blu has his home.”
“Oh, really? How very interesting.” My mind sorted through the pertinent facts as the car raced through the night. I hoped the police weren’t overly vigilant, since there was no way I was going to stop for anything short of nuclear war. What was Baltic—assuming the mysterious dragon really was him—doing in Fiat’s territory? And if it was him, how on earth had he come back from the dead?
Before I had long to mull over those questions, the exit to Santa Cristina was upon us . . . with no sign of the sports car.
“What do we think—should we chance it that he got off at this exit, or keep on the highway and try to catch up with him?” I asked as I swerved onto the shoulder to go around a slow car that insisted on straddling two lanes.
“Get off, get off!” Cyrene cried as she pulled herself up from where she’d been once again