Willow and I meet eyes, then I turn back to Donovan. “You know the route?”
“It’s programmed into the GPS. I’ll go as fast as I can without breaking any speed laws.” His eyes are filled with worry. “I’ll get us there safely, Tee.”
“I trust you.”
He pulls down the door, and I hear the snick as he secures the latch. Willow loses her balance as we pull back onto the highway, almost squashing a kid. “Sorry, lovey.”
It’s the boy with long dark hair. His wide eyes are glued to Ludo. “Will he be OK?”
“He will be,” I tell him. “We all will be.”
37
What a fucking joke.
We blow up the Windward compound, rescue the kids, and put down any stray guard that managed to stagger out of the inferno.
But now we are stuck on the side of the road because the truck is out of gas.
Out of gas.
At least it’s not the fault of poor planning—a stray bullet put a hole in the tank—but the consequences are the same.
The truck is fucked.
Drakeward kicks the tire in frustration. “What a fucking joke.”
Huh. We agree on something.
“You realize there’s only one solution,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow.
I look up into the darkening sky. “We’ve got to fly.”
The dragon reaches out a hand, catching a swirling snowflake. “Lovely afternoon for it.”
Whatever. “Help me push this off the road, then wipe down for fingerprints.”
“I’ll just incinerate it,” he scoffs. “Much easier.”
“And that will also leave a trail of magical fire for the Conclave to follow. No, we do this the old-fashioned way. At the moment, no one has any idea who we are and which way we’re headed. I want to keep it like that.”
“Fine.”
The truck must weigh ten thousand pounds, but the two of us wrangle it easily across the ferns and mud, then deep into the dark forest. Cleaning it completely takes longer, but it’s necessary.
“You think we’ll retain our guns after shifting?” Drakeward asks.
“I don’t see why not. If a phone can dematerialize then reappear, why not a weapon?” I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trying to wrap my brain around the physics of a shift.
I still have zero answers. It shouldn’t work.
Biology is one thing, but cotton, steel, and lithium-ion batteries?
"If I had to guess," I mutter, mostly to myself. “When the cellular density changes to accommodate the shift, the non-biological matter is likely pulled into a sub-dermal stasis field. We aren’t just changing shape; we’re essentially folding reality around ourselves."
Cosmo grunts, his scales already starting to shimmer on his cheekbones. “I’m just glad I don’t end up naked on the other end, especially in this weather.”
