Chance in Hell Read online

  We raced down the four-lane street, the bike right on our tail. Fortunately, traffic was light, and I only had to dodge a couple of cars as my speedo passed 100. Lacey was looking a little nervous next to me. At least she wasn’t a shrieker, so my hearing was still intact as I dodged around a Camry.

  Two more bikes joined the first one from a side street, including the red V-Max I had borrowed the night before. The driver was either telepathic or had a Bluetooth headset. I had the RPMs close to the redline as I sped down the street, but all three of them were still right behind me. There was no way I could outrun these bikes. It was time to get creative.

  We barreled toward a red light; both lanes had several cars stopped waiting for it to change. I saw a gas station at the corner to my left, cringed, and went for it. Hitting the brake hard, I moved the wheel left, cutting across the turning cars. Lacey’s “What the hell!” rang in my ears as the car blew diagonally through the gas station and across another two lanes of oncoming traffic. I straightened out and punched it, feeling the turbo kick in as we rocketed down the street to the blaring of horns and advice about my mother.

  The bikes hadn’t managed to follow. I throttled down the speed to one more closely aligned with the speed limit and asked Lacey where I should be heading. After accusing me of almost killing her, she started to give me directions. I was even going to follow them until I saw the grey sedan pull onto the road behind me. I cursed, floored it, and took the next turn.

  The chase went on for about a minute. Unfortunately, it was a modern European sedan, and they tended to be pretty quick. Even so, I thought I managed to lose it at least twice, but each time he ended up finding me again. They were tracking me again somehow.

  I wound up getting us into an industrial neighborhood, which was not what I wanted. Most of the warehouses looked vacant, and there was some type of old factory that had a “future development” sign hanging in front of it with a date that had passed three years ago.

  I tried to find my way back to civilization, but didn’t make it. I made a wrong turn and I was heading at high speed towards a dead end. I yanked the parking brake and executed a bootleg 180-degree turn, ending up sliding to a halt facing the opposite direction, just missing slamming into a barred driveway that led to a row of unused loading docks. About thirty yards in front of me, the grey sedan had followed us around the corner and come to a stop. Its front doors opened. Out of the driver’s side came a man wearing a dark suit and shades. He stood there erect, his hands clasped in front of him. He looked like an extra from a CIA thriller. I breathed a sigh of relief. He was big, but not the troll. The two rear doors opened, and from each door came clones of the first man. These guys must have all gone to the same “how to look like an agent” school as the first guy.

  Then the last door opened, and their polar opposite got out. A small, dark-skinned man wearing cowboy boots, a hat, jeans, a flannel button-up, and a leather vest climbed out from the car. He wore a lizard or maybe snakeskin necklace with some type of animal teeth or claws hanging from it, and had one earring with jade and black feathers dangling down. I’m from Texas, and even I thought this guy was a walking cliché. What looked like more large tacky jewelry hung from his vest, and there were fringed leather bracers hanging from his wrists and belt.

  “Crap,” said Lacey.

  “What?”

  “Your spider sense tingling yet?”

  “No.”

  “Well, it will.”

  The cowboy approached, and then at twenty-five yards I began to feel it…

  “You feel it?”

  I nodded. “Jesus. He’s over fifty feet away.”

  “I figured when your little talent kicks in might depend on how powerful something is, and he’s got plenty of power.”

  “What is he?”

  “Whatever it is that you’re feeling right now, file it away under shaman.”

  “Shaman?” I had played a shaman before in a couple of video games, so I decided to talk out of my ass. “Aren’t they like spiritual healers or witchdoctors or something?”

  “Or something.” Lacey opened her door, climbing out with my backpack, obviously not liking the prospect of sitting still in the small car while this guy walked up to us. It sounded like a good idea, so I opened my door and got out, standing behind it. My right hand hung down by my side, the door hiding the Kimber .45.

  “You know who he is?”

  Lacey nodded. “Isaac Black Cloud. He works for Jonathan Powers. He’s a Skinwalker. It’s a type of shaman, or…more like a shaman who’s gone down the wrong path. They can change their shape into anything, as long as they have a piece of it with them. Bad news.” I had heard of Jonathan Powers; he was a software billionaire. I’m pretty sure he had no idea I even existed, let alone a reason for having me chased around the city by a troll and a shaman.

  Isaac stopped about fifteen feet away and said in a slow southern drawl that would have done my mom proud, “Now, sir, it looks like you have something that belongs to us.”

  “Yeah, and you can have her, but don’t blame me when she eats you out of house and home.”

  “Hey!”

  “I’m not talking about your little witch, boy. I’m talking about the urn.” Urn? I guessed that must be what was in the box.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have the witch?”

  He looked at her like he was actually considering it, which was quite a testament to Lacey, considering all the effort they had gone through to get this thing back. “Not up to me.”

  Lacey looked relieved for a second before remembering who just tried to sell her out. The look she gave me was venomous.

  I considered my actions. This wasn’t a vampire. I had no intention of just opening fire on an actual person, and after the last twenty-four hours, I didn’t know if I would just open fire on a vamp anymore. I had to come up with options. I needed to stall for time while I thought of something brilliant. So I said, “How much?”

  “How much for what?”

  “The urn. Not that I’m saying I have it. But if I did, out of curiosity’s sake, how much would you give me for it?”

  “You want us to pay you for something that’s already ours?”

  I nodded. “And if you make the offer good enough, I’ll throw in the witch,” I added.

  He shrugged and said, “You got spunk.” Then he reached into his pocket. I tensed, ready to draw down on him, but he emerged holding a phone. He held up a finger, indicating for us to all wait while he pressed a button on his phone and waited.

  He relayed my message and then waited for a response. He grunted, then shut his phone. “Sorry, kid; no dice.” He thought for a second. “You’ll have to hand over the urn pro bono like, but I’ll give you $500 for the girl.”

  I never got to answer because I heard the approach of the motorcycles. Half a dozen bikes turned the corner and came down the dead-end street, pulling up behind the sedan. Among them, I recognized Toni and her two friends from the Deli.

  The wanna-be CIA agent in front turned sideways, trying to keep both Lacey and me and the bikers in view. His hands were no longer in front of him. One of them had undone his jacket and slipped inside.

  Isaac turned around and whistled. “Well, would you look at that? Seems we got ourselves some company.” The other two goons had turned to face the bikers.

  “Well, Lacey,” I said in an undertone, “it looks like you might get close enough to try that thing. You know, the one you said you’re not supposed to do.” The werewolves got off their bikes and were slowly advancing in a semicircle on the grey sedan.

  “Stand aside, Isaac,” said Toni. “Chance is mine. You’ll have to wait your turn.”

  “Now, see, here’s where we’re going to have to disagree,” said Isaac, “because I’m pretty sure we stuck a claim on this boy before you did, little lady. So why don’t you and your pack go run on home and I’ll be sure to bring you a doggie bag when we’re done.”

  I started easing ba
ck in my car and motioned Lacey to do the same. I had no problem becoming scarce while they fought over me. Unfortunately, Isaac managed to notice this and gestured to one of his minions.

  “Matt, would you kindly make sure our friends here don’t try to leave us prematurely?”

  Matt pulled out a hand cannon and sent a round right into my left front tire. It was a heck of a shot, and caused both Lacey and me to jump about a foot away from the car. The sound echoed off the warehouse behind us.

  “Change of plans,” I told her. “Stick close to me.”

  I raised my hands about halfway up and slowly started to move to the side. I saw Lacey’s hand move into her purse as she edged around the front of the car until she stood next to me.

  “Hand over the backpack,” said Isaac.

  “I’m giving you one last chance to leave, Isaac. The boy and I have a debt to settle.” Toni stepped forward, sounding impatient.

  Isaac was ignoring Toni. “Looks like the little witch went and cut herself with her own knife. Now, why don’t you put that pig sticker away before you really hurt yourself, honey.”

  I glanced and saw Lacey was holding her right hand palm up. She must have cut it with the small, wicked-looking knife in her left hand, because blood was pooling in it.

  Then all hell broke loose. The werewolves suddenly charged the two suits, who pulled out handguns and opened fire. I saw some of the rounds hit home, tearing holes into the front of the oncoming bikers.

  “Guess it’s going to be the hard way. Kill the kids and take the package,” Isaac told Eric.

  I went for my gun, but I wasn’t going to make it. The big bruiser already had his out and was turning it on me by the time my brain told my hand to raise the .45 from where it hid behind the car door.

  Lacey was already whipping her arm at the guy, saying something in a language I didn’t understand. Blood flew from her hand and splattered across his chest and face. He began to scream as they turned into what could only be described as tiny sand-crab like things and started burrowing into his flesh. His finger convulsed on the trigger and the Desert Eagle .50 roared, the shots going wide as I hit the ground. His other hand clawed at his face as tiny holes bubbled up through his skin.

  Issac hissed and tugged on his necklace. His visage shifted, mixing in shadow. He fell forward and where he landed stood a large mountain lion. It let out a roar and jumped for me. By now the Kimber was up, and I scurried backwards on the ground, snapping off rounds as the lion came for me.

  It veered past me to avoid the gunfire, and I sprang to my feet and ran, calling for Lacey to follow me. The werewolves had gotten up to the suits and were finishing them off. None of them had bothered to change into any sort of wolf. It looked like they were just beating the crap out of them with their fists. A couple of the werewolves had taken multiple rounds, but I guessed they weren’t silver, because even though the wolves didn’t look exactly sprightly, they were still up and throwing punches. I was wondering what happened to the cat, but I wasn’t sticking around to find out.

  We ran right past them all and I hopped on the V-Max, throwing my backpack to Lacey.

  “Put this on.”

  I pulled out the pink rabbit’s foot from my pocket, jabbed the key into the ignition, fired up the bike, and waited for Lacey to jump on back before I took off. Toni’s curses came screaming behind me. I looked back and the mountain lion was bounding after us, having weaved around and then jumped over the last werewolf in its way. It was fast, but the bike was a lot faster, and we rounded the corner and shot off, leaving it behind.

  We left the V-Max where we picked up the Liberty in front of the Y. I asked Lacey for a pen and paper, and left a quick note folded up and stuck inside the helmet, which I left on the seat of the bike.

  Remarkably, even after what had just happened, Lacey reminded me that we were supposed to go shopping. “Retail therapy,” she called it, and I think she meant it after the day we’d had. Everyone has their own way of coping, so I agreed to come with her. We ended up at a huge two-story mall, and after watching Lacey assault the food court, I spent the better part of the afternoon trying to avoid getting cursed (literally) by Lacey as she tried on clothes and asked for my opinion.

  It’s a fine line between unintentionally insulting a girl who is asking for your opinion and being honest. Actually, who am I kidding—most of the time it’s impossible; your best bet is just to outright lie and say everything looks great.

  Fortunately, Lacey made most things look good, and I don’t even mind shopping that much. We never had much money, so I found it fascinating to watch the way some people spent theirs. At first I was worried about what she had said this morning; I never kept a balance on either of my credit cards, but their limit was pitiful, and Lacey’s bill at the first store alone would have made them whimper. But a debt is a debt, and I always settle mine. When the time came to pay, though, she had whipped out her own card.

  The next store was apparently for me, seeing as my clothes were now at the Y and I had left the key embedded in the locker when I left. I ended up with a couple of pairs of jeans, a pair of sweats, and a few shirts. I wasn’t planning on staying around long enough to need even this much. But Lacey got on a roll. Maybe she just liked watching me model clothes. I mean, hey, what girl wouldn’t? I worked out. Besides, I told myself, school was starting up and I could use some new clothes.

  There was a mobile phone store in the mall, and I went ahead and got a new one. My two-year contract wasn’t up, so I had to pay for it. I was able to resist Lacey’s urges to get the latest smart phone for a paltry five hundred dollars. Instead, I got something a bit more modest for $200. Having no choice, I used a credit card to pay for it. My SIM was gone, but I did the best I could to input the people’s numbers that I could remember.

  Right next door was a game shack. I needed something calming. Despite Lacey’s eye rolls, I went inside. She asked if she could play with my phone while she waited. I handed it to her and went to talk to the guy at the counter to see if he had checked out the latest expansion to an RPG I was hooked on. It had come out on Thursday, and I had been too busy not dying this weekend to play it.

  I chatted for a bit, then felt guilty for leaving Lacey standing around waiting, so I went outside. She was grinning and holding both of our phones, one in each hand. She put hers back in her purse, then handed mine back to me. She looked far too pleased with herself.

  Then it was back to clothes shopping, and I kicked myself for feeling bad about making her wait for ten minutes while I checked out games, especially after we moved on from clothes to purses and then shoes.

  Not that it was that bad watching Lacey model and spend stupid amounts of money, but for some reason I kept checking my watch and wondering when we were going to head back home. I told myself it was because clothes shopping was painful and not because there was a certain little blood-sucking brunette I wanted to see.

  Chapter 10

  By the time we left the mall and headed back to the girls’ house, it was after six. Sunrise wasn’t for a couple of hours, so I was surprised when we entered the kitchen to find the blinds drawn and Megan on the couch in the family room watching TV.

  “What happened?” she said, looking like a parent whose kids just came home way past curfew. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours!”

  “I’ll tell you what happened—your boyfriend here tried to sell me to a shaman for $500.”

  “I was going to counter with $750, but the werewolves came and I didn’t get the chance.”

  “Too bad. That would have been a good deal,” Megan said; and then to Lacey: “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

  “I didn’t hear it.” Lacey frowned, pulled her phone out of her purse, checked a switch on its side, then stomped her foot. “Shit! Sorry. I left the ringer off.”

  “So, what happened?” Megan said, taking in all of the shopping bags I was laboring under. “Let me guess—you passed a mall on the way and never made it
to pick up the car or find the locker?”

  “No,” I said. “We did pick up the car.”

  “But we lost it again,” added Lacey. Then, in a stage whisper: “I think Chance is just embarrassed to show it to you.”

  “Hey!” I said, “It’s not that bad. And we did find the locker.” I turned around so Megan could see the square-shaped backpack I was wearing. “We put the contents in my backpack.” I turned back around. “Uh, don’t suppose you could tell me where to put all of this stuff?”

  “Oh, yeah! Over here—put them on the table.” I followed Lacey into the kitchen and unloaded all the bags onto the table. I took off my backpack and set it on the ground. I felt much lighter.

  Next, we gave Megan the rundown on the day’s events. It took 30 minutes. It could have taken about ten, but Lacey made sure the recap included our trip to the mall, with a blow-by-blow of each of the outfits she had tried on but didn’t buy. Once that was finished, she proceeded to pull out the things she did buy and show them to Megan. She finished with the clothes she made me buy, making sure to apologize to Megan for my plebeian taste.

  I sat at the kitchen table and watched, slightly stunned by her priorities.

  “So,” Megan said, finally able to get in a word. “The urn?”

  “I assume it’s in here.” I hefted my backpack onto my lap. The girls looked on as I unzipped it and pulled out the box, setting it on the table. I got up and leaned over it, picking at one edge of the duct tape. Megan walked up, put one hand on my shoulder, and leaned over in front of me; she ran a freshly manicured pink nail across the top of the box, leaving a clean slit in the tape.

  “That’s handy,” I said, feeling the weight of her arm still resting on my shoulder. I still felt the slight chill of her presence when she was this close, but it didn’t bother me as much for some reason.

  I lifted the flaps of the box and saw that it was full to the brim with white Styrofoam peanuts. I leaned over and tried to figure out how to dig out the urn without sending peanuts tumbling all over their floor. I wouldn’t have cared so much back at my place; it looked like you’d expect a place to look, inhabited by a single male college kid. Lived in. The girls seemed to keep this house put together, however, so I pondered my problem. Having endured the insult about my car and my blue-collar taste in clothes, I certainly didn’t want the monsters thinking we humans were complete barbarians.