At last I made a move toward the front of the car. He tried to intercept me, but then I surprised him by springing onto the car's hood (because honestly, at this point, it wasn't like the alarm could get any louder). In my split second of advantage, I threw myself off the car and onto him, knocking him flat to the ground. I landed on top of his stomach and held him down with all my weight while my hands went around his neck. He struggled, trying to throw me off, and nearly succeeded. At last, the lack of air won out. He stopped moving and fell into unconsciousness. I let go.
For a brief moment, I had a flashback to our escape from Court, when I'd used the same technique on Meredith. I saw her lying on the ground all over again and felt that same pang of guilt. Then, I shook it off. Meredith was okay. Meredith wasn't even here. None of that mattered. All that mattered was that this guy was out of commission, and I had to get out of here. Now.
Without looking to see if others were coming, I tore off across the parking lot toward the theater. I stopped once I had some distance between me and the wailing car, using another car as cover. I saw no one near the guy yet, but over by the parking lot's front, close to the mall, there seemed to be some activity. I didn't stick around to get a closer look. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good for me.
I reached the theater a couple minutes later, breathless more from fear than exhaustion. Running endurance was something I had built up a lot of, thanks to Dimitri. But where was Dimitri? Theatergoers mingled around, some giving my disheveled state an odd look, as they either waited for tickets or discussed what movie they'd just seen. I saw no sign of Dimitri anywhere.
I had no watch. How long had passed since we'd parted? Surely not a half hour. I walked around the theater, staying obscured in the crowd, searching for any indication of Dimitri or more pursuers. Nothing. Minutes ticked by. Uneasily, I reached into my pocket and touched the piece of paper with the phone number. Leave, he'd told me. Leave and call the number. Of course, I had no cell phone, but that was the least of my problems right now--
"Rose!'
A car pulled up at the curb where others were dropping people off. Dimitri was leaning out the driver's side window, and I nearly fell over in relief. Well, okay, not nearly. In reality, I didn't waste a moment in hurrying over to him and hopping into the passenger seat. Without a word, he hit the gas and got us away from the theater and back to the main road.
We said nothing at first. He was so wound up and on edge, it seemed the slightest provocation would make him snap in half. He drove as fast as he could without attracting police attention, all the while glancing into the rearview mirror.
"Is there anyone behind us?' I asked at last, as he drove back onto the highway.
"It doesn't look like it. It'll take them a while to figure out what car we're in.'
I hadn't paid much attention when I'd entered, but we were in a Honda Accord-- another ordinary-looking car. I also noticed that there was no key in the ignition.
"Did you hotwire this car?' I then rephrased my question. "Did you steal this car?'
"You have an interesting set of morals,' he observed. "Breaking out of jail is okay. But steal a car, and you sound totally outraged.'
"Im just more surprised than outraged,' I said, leaning back against the seat. I sighed. "I was afraid ... well, for a moment there, I was afraid you weren't coming. That they'd caught you or something.'
"No. Most of my time was spent sneaking out and finding a suitable car.'
A few minutes of silence fell. "You didn't ask what happened to me,' I pointed out, a little miffed.
"Don't need to. You're here. That's what counts.'
"I got in a fight.'
"I can tell. Your sleeve is ripped.'
I glanced down. Yup, ripped. I'd also lost the hat in my mad dash. No big loss. "Don't you want to know anything about the fight?' His eyes stayed on the road ahead of us. "I already know. You took down your enemy. You did it fast, and you did it well. Because you're just that good.'
I pondered his words for a moment. They were matter-of-fact, all business ... and yet, his statement brought a tiny smile to my lips. "Okay. So what now, General? Don't you think they'll scan reports of stolen cars and get our license plate number?'
"Likely. But by then, we'll have a new car--one they won't have any clue about.'
I frowned. "How are you pulling that off?'
"We're meeting someone in a few hours.'
"Damn it. I really hate being the last one to know about everything.'
"A few hours' put us in Roanoke, Virginia. Most of our drive had passed uneventfully up until that point. But as the city came into view, I noticed Dimitri watching the exit signs until he found the one he wanted. Turning off the interstate, he continued checking for a tail and found none. We reached another commerce-filled road, and he drove to a McDonald's that stood out clearly from the rest of the businesses.
"I don't suppose,' I said, "that this is a food break?'
"This,' he responded, "is where we catch our next ride.'
He drove around the restaurant's parking lot, his eyes scanning for something, though I didn't initially know what. I spotted it a fraction of a second before he did. In the far corner of the lot, I saw a woman leaning against a tan SUV, her back to us. I couldn't see much of her except that she wore a dark shirt and had tousled blond hair that almost touched her shoulders.
Dimitri pulled into the spot next to her vehicle, and I was out of ours the second he hit the brake. I recognized her before she even turned around.
"Sydney?' The name came out as a question, though I knew for sure it was her.
Her head turned, and I saw a familiar face--a human face--with brown eyes that could turn amber in the sun and a faint gold tattoo on her cheek.
"Hey, Rose,' she said, a rueful smile playing on her lips. She held up a McDonald's bag. "Figured you'd be hungry.'
Chapter Six
REALLY, WHEN YOU THOUGHT ABOUT it, Sydney showing up wasn't much weirder than half the other stuff that seemed to happen to me on a regular basis. Sydney was an Alchemist, one I'd met in Russia when trying to find and kill Dimitri. She was my age and had hated being assigned over there, though I'd certainly appreciated her aid. As Dimitri had noted earlier, the Alchemists would want to help the Moroi find and capture me. Yet, judging from the tension radiating off both her and Dimitri in the car, it became obvious that she was assisting in this escape.
With great effort, I pushed my questions to the side for the time being. We were still fugitives, still undoubtedly being pursued. Sydney's car was a brand new Honda CR-V with Louisiana plates and a rental sticker.