Magic Shifts (Kate Daniels 8)

Chapter

16

FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLDS MAKE TERRIBLE drivers. They speed, they pay no attention to the rules of the road, and they think they’re immortal. There are times when you absolutely have to have a fifteen-year-old behind the wheel. Chasing a convertible driven by the kidnapper of a necromancer down Atlanta’s deserted streets in the middle of the night was one of those times.

“He’s too fast,” Julie growled.

We hit a bump. The Jeep went airborne and landed with a creak. I ran my tongue along my teeth to make sure they were all still there.

Above us, vampires dashed along the buildings.

Something landed on the roof with a thud. I rolled down the passenger window and a vampire stuck his head in, hanging upside down.

“I’m not amused,” Ghastek said through the vampire’s mouth.

“Well, pardon me. You can get your refund back at the ticket booth.”

“Just once, could you visit my place of business without causing a major incident?”

“I didn’t cause an incident.”

“No, you’re right. I misspoke. You talked to a man who then kidnapped a Master of the Dead, requiring us to make a massive show of force, which will no doubt result in financial losses and negative publicity less than twenty-four hours before your father inspects our facilities. ‘Incident’ would be too mild a word. If this is a diversion, it won’t work. More than a third of our force remains at the Casino under capable leadership. They are able to repel any attack.”

“It’s not a diversion,” I squeezed through clenched teeth. “It’s an ifrit who wants to take over the city.” Also, he’d only brought less than a quarter of his total vampire force.

The vampire’s face became completely still as Ghastek mulled it over.

“Hold on.” Julie took the corner at a breakneck speed. The vehicle careened. I grabbed the handle above the window. We flew on two wheels for a stomach-pinching second and landed back on the road.

“A djinn,” Ghastek said finally.

“Yes. It’s an old power, probably tied to an item. The man in the car is a merc. I believe he got a hold of the item, made himself younger, wished for a magic car filled with money, and for a woman, and now it will be time to pay the piper.”

“The djinn will take over the human host,” Ghastek said. “So the giant who destroyed the Guild was of djinn origin and, since this man’s three-wish cycle just ran out, we can probably expect another giant.”

Whatever faults Ghastek had, stupidity wasn’t one of them.

“What do I need to know?” he asked.

“It’s an ifrit, so it loves fire. The last giant was almost seventy feet tall. He was still transforming when I cut him down: metal legs, high heat. Low intelligence, no speech, lots of rage, and fun reanimative metamorphosis once he’s down. His corpse transformed into draconoids.”

“Lovely,” Ghastek said. “Do the human host’s abilities affect the giant’s performance?”

And why hadn’t I asked myself that question? “I have no idea. Lago is a good, well-trained merc. I guess we’ll find out.”

The vampire’s head disappeared and I heard Ghastek’s voice. “Team Leader One and Two, merge to bandit. Team Three and Four, maintain. Team Leader One, tap, if no response, stop and dismantle. Watch for heat damage.”

The vampires picked up speed, converging on the vehicle. Six vampires on the right dropped onto Lago’s convertible. They were in midfall when the top of the car snapped closed. Metal plates formed on the vehicle, overlaying each other like scales. Five vampires landed on the scales, nimble like cats. The sixth slid off and fell, rolling.

“You must be faster than that, Evgenia,” Ghastek said.

The bloodsuckers ripped into the vehicle, clawing at the armor. The lines of the car flowed, reshaping themselves as the armor grew thicker, covering the wheels. Two of the vampires managed to pry open the top panel. It went flying and a new armor plate snapped into its place.

“I don’t get it.” Julie swerved. “So the djinn takes over the body after three wishes?”

If the ifrit didn’t kill us, her driving would for sure.

“That’s the theory.” And because the djinn wanted to take over a host for reasons unknown, he would’ve actively pushed his victim to make the wishes. For a weaker-willed person, the compulsion to wish for something would’ve been impossible to resist and the more wishes they made, the greater their break with reality would become. Under normal circumstances, Lago wouldn’t have tried to kidnap me. He was a self-proclaimed Casanova, not a rapist. And the Oswalds’ neighbor probably wouldn’t have let a deadly monster loose in a residential neighborhood. We had to stop this now, before anyone else got hurt.