No Quest For The Wicked
Page 85

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Owen said. “I’m foiling your evil scheme.”
The man laughed that patronizing laugh again. “Evil? You accuse me of evil? That’s rich.”
“I never knew my parents, so you can’t blame me for their actions, and I’m not trying to stir up strife to further my cause.”
“But blood does run true, doesn’t it? Don’t tell me you’ve never been tempted to use power, even if your power has been corrupted. All of this is your fault, you know.”
Owen’s cool faltered and his voice cracked as he blurted, “My fault?”
“Merlin was our great hope, the one who could have restored us to the true ways. When he returned, we knew he would purify the magical world. But you were the one who brought him back. You made him a modern wizard. You influenced him to put the past behind him.”
“You obviously don’t know Merlin,” Owen said with a harsh laugh. “He’s a scholar, so he set out to learn what he’d missed, and he chose to adapt to the modern world. I may have taught him to use the Internet, but he was the one who decided to put the past behind him—where it belongs.”
If that revelation disconcerted the puritan, he didn’t show it. Then again, that type seldom let the truth get in the way of their beliefs. Instead, he gave Owen a cold smile and said, “You may be right about one thing.”
“Just one?”
“You may not be evil. You’re certainly too weak to be effective even if you are evil. Otherwise, you’d have fired that gun by now. But you’re reluctant to take a life, aren’t you?”
I aimed high and to the right of him, where I was sure I wouldn’t hit anything, braced myself for the recoil, and pulled the trigger, just for the pleasure of watching him scramble backward. “I’ll shoot,” I said. “Next one is aimed better.”
“You were high and to the right,” Granny criticized.
“It was a warning shot,” I argued, exasperated. “I wasn’t trying to hit anything.”
I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and heard a loud bang, but before I could react, the world went still. I looked down to see Rod kneeling, his hand on the ground. Then I looked up to see a bullet hovering in mid-air a few feet away from me. I wouldn’t have had time to duck if Rod hadn’t intervened.
“I’m not as good at this as Owen is, so get out of here, now,” Rod said through clenched teeth. “Granny and I will keep them here.”
Owen’s shirttail had come untucked long ago, and he stuck his pistol in the back of his waistband, letting his shirt cover it. I put mine in my purse. There were laws about carrying concealed firearms in this city, and both of us were disheveled enough to look suspicious, but I didn’t want to face whatever might be out there without a weapon.
I took Owen’s arm, and the two of us ran for the park exit. He wasn’t limping as badly now, but he had a hop-skip gait that favored the wounded leg. As we came out onto Fifth Avenue, I said, “Maybe we could get a cab. We’d be mostly alone and more or less protected for a while, at least until the cabbie is driven mad with a lust for power, and I think we’re safest if we stay on the move.”
“Good plan,” he said, stepping forward to hail a cab. Several in-service cabs passed us by. A good look at him in the bright city lights showed why. Yeah, he was still ridiculously good-looking, but he also looked like a wild man, with his hair disheveled, his clothes torn and dirty, and blood everywhere. I probably looked just as bad.
“We’ll never get a cab. Let’s walk,” I suggested. “We need to get away from here before they catch up, and Sylvester could be waking up any minute now.”
He put his arm around my shoulders again, leaning on me while acting protective. “I should call the office and see if that box is ready.” He got out his phone, hit the speed dial button, then waited what seemed like forever for a response. At last he said, “We’re hanging on, but this is getting dicey. How much longer?” He listened, then said, “Okay, but please hurry.” He put the phone back in his pocket and said, “He’s putting the finishing touches on it now.”
“Finishing touches means what, exactly? Like, a few minutes, or half an hour?”
“Magic isn’t an exact science. But soon, I’m sure.”
“And then it has to be delivered to us. I vote we start heading in that direction.”
“We’re already heading in that direction.”