Broken Warrior (The Weavers Circle 1)

With one hand braced on Baer’s seat in front of him, Clay reached backward toward the other car. Or more specifically, the ground under the other car’s tires. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the living powers that swirled around his chest. It had been quiet since they reached the historic district. The more concrete separating him from the ground, the quieter his energy grew—as though it didn’t like that there was something between him and the dirt.

The power stirred slowly, as if he were attempting to drag it out of bed early on a Saturday morning. It grumbled and fought him. Now was not the time for this shit. He tugged on it, and the asshole powers kicked him in the gut. Clay gasped and his eyes popped open. Fucker.

He met Grey’s questioning gaze and flashed him a tense smile before closing his eyes again. He was running out of time. The road was going to turn, and the timber telephone poles were going to disappear.

Clamping down on his concentration, he pushed and pulled at the energy, stirring it to life. It felt nowhere as near as strong as it had been the last time Clay was in the woods with Baer, but it was enough. He directed it toward the ground behind the Jeep, and the tires squealed on the road.

“Whoa!” Dane’s voice permeated his concentration. “Another tremor. I’ve felt a few the last few days.”

“Bad timing, huh?” Grey added, but there was an added weight of suspicion to his voice that made Clay glad his eyes were still closed.

“Oh, I think it’s gonna be worse than a tremor,” Baer said loudly. A less-than-subtle hint for Clay to get his shit together.

The Earth Weaver shoved harder, trying to direct more of his powers at the ground. His fingers shook under the strain, and the sweat on his brow was quickly cooling in the wind. Muscles ached from head to toe, but the power stopped beating against his organs and now seemed to be directing its ire at the enemies at least. The shaking of the ground increased, forcing Baer to slow their breakneck speed.

A loud cracking sound had Clay opening his eyes again. The asphalt was buckling in places and splitting in others. Baer swerved here and there, no longer even trying to stay in their lane as he continued toward the plantation house. The shooting had stopped, and tires squealed behind them. The pestilents were fighting to stay on the road as well.

A different kind of loud cracking sound had Dane shouting. Clay whipped his head around and Baer cursed loudly. A telephone pole in front of them had snapped and was falling toward them. Baer gunned the engine and Clay grabbed his powers, shoving them into his chest again. The Jeep narrowly raced past the pole as it slammed to the ground in a shower of splinters and sparks.

The other car didn’t have enough time to dodge or stop. It slammed into the pole complete with live wires. A fireball engulfed the sedan just a second later. Clay could only guess sparks from the electrical wire ignited the gas fumes and gasoline in the engine. Both he and Grey stared at the dancing flames as they grew smaller in the distance. He never saw anyone get out of the car. But he felt no regret. They would have killed him. The creatures in that car would have killed Baer and Grey without remorse. And he had a feeling they would have killed Dane even though he had nothing to do with their old war.

Turning to face forward, Clay looked over at Dane. He waited for the man to ask if they were going to call 9-1-1 for the other car, but he never spoke. He sat there with his elbow on the car door and his head resting in his hand. Yeah, boys’ night out had been a giant disaster. He hated to admit it, but the aunts were right. It was safer for everyone if they stayed on the plantation grounds until all the Weavers were located.

“I’m not from Georgia,” Grey drawled into the extended silence. “Is this a normal night out for you?”

Baer’s deep belly laugh filled the car for a second before it was carried away by the wind. “Don’t know about Georgia, but we shut shit down like this in Colorado all the time.”

Clay sunk in his seat and closed his eyes. The power in his chest had settled behind his heart with a disgruntled rumble. Clay was ready to join in. Muscles ached as if he’d worked out for the past couple of hours. He wanted a shower and, oddly enough, to curl up in the woods behind the house. It didn’t make sense, but he wasn’t going to argue with it.