The Fire Keeper (The Storm Runner 2)

“There is no smaller dude,” she said. “They’re both huge and, um, they have guns.”

“Then how about some shadows to, like, knock them out or smother them or something?”

“¡Silencio!” the bald dude ordered.

Ren’s worried expression told me she was less than confident she could get the shadows to listen to her, but she closed her eyes, clenched her fists, and muttered things I couldn’t make out. A couple of morning shadows swayed, began to rise, then went kaput. Ren shook out her hands. “I need quiet!”

The guards approached us cautiously, guns still pointed, handcuffs swinging from their belt loops.

“Rosie can get us out of here,” I said in a low voice, keeping my eyes on the guards. “On the count of three.”

Everything happened faster than thought. Before I knew it, we were all on Rosie’s back, bolting out the door to the beach. There was shouting. The guards chased after us, but Rosie was hell-on-wheels fast.

“Go, Rosie!” I shouted from the back.

Ah-Puch was in the middle, shouting things like “I will not perish at the hands of security guards!” Then: “Get us to the cliffs.”

Cliffs? He’d rather splatter all over some rocks?

We were cut off at the pass by a new set of guards on dirt bikes. Rosie took a sharp right and raced down a space between two buildings that opened up to a seaside cliff. She came to a halt at the end of the alley. At the same moment, a helicopter approached and circled overhead. I’d seen lots of outcomes for this quest in my mind, but never this—being caught on top of a cliff and wanted for theft, arson, and fraud!

“We’re trapped!” Ren shouted.

The helicopter’s rotor spun wildly, pushing down a warm and biting wind. Some guy leaned out of it with a huge camera hoisted over his shoulder.

The guards were right behind us, racing forward on their bikes.

“What do we do?” Ren shouted over the helicopter’s whirring blades.

“We will have to combine our strength,” Ah-Puch cried. “It will take tremendous concentration and—”His words cut off as he patted Rosie’s ribs and my dog took off to the edge of the cliff.

Seriously? She was taking orders from the god of death now?

I was about to argue against death by splatter, when a deep buzzing began in my feet. It snaked up my legs, spreading into my stomach and across my chest. Rosie left us at the cliff’s edge, then spun back to face and probably distract the guards. I looked down. The ocean was at least ten feet beyond a colossal rocky outcropping that equaled sure and sudden demise.

The guards were off their motorcycles now, guns pointed. “¡Alto!”

And then Rosie released a growl that would rival a dragon’s. Here’s where things got really weird, because the guards screamed, the helicopter nearly spun out of control, and steam rose off Rosie’s massive body. I knew then that they, as in everyone, could see her as the hellhound she was. Since when could she show her hellish side to humans?

Ah-Puch gripped my hand and tugged me and Ren closer to the edge.

Do you feel it? Ah-Puch asked.

Yes, Ren and I said together. The electrical current was like some kind of shared energy or magnetic pull binding us together. The rushing air pounded us. I looked over my shoulder to see Rosie holding off the guards.

Now imagine a place in New Mexico you know the best, Ah-Puch said, jerking my attention back.

No, we have to go directly to the godborns!

For this to work, you have to have spent a lot of time where we’re going.

Ren said, Hurry!

I pictured the mesa where the Beast used to be. Now what?

Jump!

The three of us plummeted toward the rocks a few hundred feet below, and all I kept thinking was I just jumped off a cliff because the god of death told me to.