The Enchanter Heir

Chapter Fifteen

Escape from the Flats

Jonah searched the entire infrastructure of the bridge, but found no more shades lurking up there. He’d hoped that Lilith might still be in the area, maybe watching from some unseen vantage point. But there was no sign of her.

Even now, an army of free shades would be spreading throughout the city, looking for new hosts.

He looked out over the canal basin and saw that, while he’d been occupied, the police had surrounded the base of the bridge, trying not to step on scattered body parts.

Mechanics grappled with the bridge machinery, and a searchlight mounted at the top of Superior swept over the metal framework.

On the bridge deck below, the children were still chanting, playing a clapping game.

My boyfriend’s name is Roger, He plays for the Brooklyn Dodgers. With a cherry on his nose and nine black toes, And this is how my story goes.

Jonah climbed down from the tower, landing lightly on the bridge deck. The children’s voices faded. They watched him, wide-eyed and silent.

“You’re safe now,” he said. “The . . . ah . . . the zombies are gone. Now stay put until the police officers come.”

The searchlight found him, nearly blinding him, and helicopter blades whirred overhead. Jonah pulled his hood forward to shelter his face and hugged the side of the bridge tender’s cabin to avoid drawing fire. He looked down to the foot of the tower, where black-clad SWAT officers were beginning to climb.

A voice blared down from one of the choppers overhead. “Drop your weapons, raise your hands, and step away from the children.”

And as soon as I’m in the clear, you’ll shoot me, Jonah thought. I’m not planning on dying tonight.

The bridge alarm clanged again, and with a screech of metal on metal, the bridge platform began to descend in fits and starts.

Jonah slid his body through the metal infrastructure of the lift bridge and leaped across and onto the adjacent abandoned railroad bridge. Working his way to the other side, he descended to the railbed in a series of controlled zigzag falls.

Landing on the tracks, he sprinted across the trestle and vaulted over the chain-link fence at the end. It would not do to be caught. It would not do at all.

Jonah trotted north, passing under the RTA bridge. He needed to get far enough away so that when he surfaced, the officers swarming the bridge wouldn’t spot him. He couldn’t keep racing through the Flats, though. That would draw unwanted attention.

Up ahead loomed the graceful arches of the DetroitSuperior Bridge. He ran up one of its buttresses, pulling himself hand over hand, and slid over the wall onto the trolley level.

He looked back at the lift bridge and saw that more and more police cars had been arriving at the bottom of the structure’s towers, including a SWAT armored vehicle that resembled a tank. The police were still concentrated around the road bridge, guns drawn, awaiting the descent of the bridge deck.

He had to move fast. Once they realized he’d escaped, they would have the area cordoned off in no time. He sprinted back through the trolley subway to the east end of the bridge, leaping over barricades and gaps in the concrete floor. He surfaced just before the trolley line disappeared underground for the last time. As he climbed over the railing onto the bridge, he saw that one of the police officers stationed at the intersection of Superior and West Ninth was striding toward him.

Jonah pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the asssortment of emergency vehicles. “What’s going on?” he asked, when the officer was close enough.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” The policeman planted a hand on Jonah’s shoulder. “Where did you come from?”

“Well, the street was blocked, so I snuck over on the lower level,” Jonah said, taking three more quick photos. “Would you mind answering a few questions? I’m a freelancer, and I just need to get a little more info before I—”

“Why are you carrying an ax?” Damn! He’d forgotten all about the ax he’d jammed into the waistband of his jeans. Not only that; he was splattered with blood and gore.

“It’s cosplay,” Jonah replied, scraping up a bit of charm, touching the ax. “A costume. You’ve heard of the annual zombie walk, right? I do the slayer podcast. If I could just get your name and a quote from you, Officer—”

“The street was blocked for a reason,” the officer roared, spinning Jonah around so he faced West Ninth. A small crowd huddled behind yellow police-line tape. “Now get back behind that line before I arrest you for disorderly conduct!”

“Of course, Officer. Right away.” Jonah crossed the intersection, ducked under the police tape, and walked up West Ninth, losing himself in the crowds on the sidewalk. He ditched the ax in a Dumpster.

By now, the emergency lights and helicopters were far behind him. It was unlikely anyone had followed him on that route, but still—he didn’t go directly back to school. It was just too risky. Too close to home.

He stopped at an all-night diner on Fourth Street and ordered coffee and pie, sharing the place with a bone-weary waitress and some produce brokers from the West Side Market. Lilith’s words rattled around in his brain. He’d always been conflicted about his role as a slayer. So much of what she’d said echoed the voices in his own head.

He sent a brief text to Gabriel, relaying what had happened. By the time he left the diner, he had a throbbing headache. And a summons to a meeting with Gabriel and Alison the next day.

Members of Nightshade lived in the Oxbow Building, a former warehouse that had been renovated as spacious loft apartments. No shared dormitory rooms for them. It was the most secure building on campus. Gabriel occupied the penthouse.

Jonah didn’t mingle much with his colleagues in Nightshade, save his few trusted friends. They had little in common save a talent for killing, and Jonah had too many secrets to keep. So he was viewed as a loner, resented as Gabriel’s pet. Rumored to be especially deadly.

That, at least, was true.

When he finally walked into the duty room on the first floor of the Oxbow Building, Alison Shaw was waiting for him, still blood-grubby from the fight in the Flats.

“Thank God,” she said, when he walked in. “I was beginning to worry.”

“I thought it was best not to come straight back here,” Jonah said. “I think half the Cleveland PD is out there.”

“You could’ve sent me a text.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He studied her. “You have blood all over you.”

“Those cadavers must’ve been fresh,” Alison said. “Lots of splash-back.” She swiped at her clothes. “I know I need a shower, but I didn’t want to miss you when you came in.” She waited and, when he said nothing, said, “Well? What was that all about?”

Jonah really didn’t want to get into it. He wished he could go up to his apartment and strip off his bloody clothes, clean his blade, and lose himself in his music until he could lose himself in sleep.

She deserved an answer, though. She’d saved his butt.

“A shade grabbed a preschool class,” he said, tossing the ax onto a table. “From that mainliner town. Trinity. Mostly wizards.”

Alison wrinkled her nose, as if nobody would possibly want a preschool class, let alone a gifted one. “A preschool class? Why?”

“Someone named Lilith has a new scheme going.”

It wasn’t the first time someone had tried to take charge of the shades, to organize a system for collecting and allocating bodies. But the constant hunt for new meat made it difficult to orchestrate anything.

Jonah pulled the bottle from his jeans and waved it in front of Alison. “Whatever it is, it requires blood magic. Which comes from killing the gifted.”

“Blood magic?” Alison hesitated, as always, unwilling to admit she didn’t know something. “What’s it used for?”

“I don’t know. But Gabriel will.” He slid his fingers into his pocket, pulling out the bits of nightshade. “They scattered this around before the killing began.” When Alison looked puzzled, he said, “It’s nightshade. It looks like shades are the ones murdering mainliners, after all. And trying to blame it on us.”

Alison grimaced. “You know I’ve got no use for mainliners, but children?”

“I guess so.”

Alison folded her arms and lifted her chin. “What is it about you, Kinlock? Do you attract trouble or what? I wondered why you didn’t stay for the second set.”

Jonah rubbed blood away from a long scrape on his arm. “I smelled the shade, and I had to go check it out.”

“You smelled it.”

“He was wearing a corpse that was totally rank.”

“I wish I had your sense of smell.”

“No, you don’t. Trust me, it was pretty hard to take.” He slid a glance at her. Jonah had literally grown up with Alison. He understood her, though she wasn’t always easy to be with.

“Anyway, I’m glad you came along when you did. I had my hands full.” He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “How did the rest of the show go?”

“That’s why I was trying to reach you. Mose nearly passed out during the last set,” Alison said. “Natalie took him back to his place. She seems really worried.”

“I’ll call them,” Jonah said. “See how he’s doing.” He paused. “Is it me, or has this been a really long day?”

Alison hesitated for a heartbeat, and then said tentatively, “I had a good time tonight.” She licked her lips.

No! Jonah thought, beginning to edge toward the door. Please don’t go there. Don’t ruin our friendship. Don’t make it awkward between us when you’re one of the few friends I have.

Maybe he should imprint No! on his black sweatshirts. No, I’m not seeing anyone. No, I wouldn’t like to go someplace for coffee. No, I don’t come here often. Just. No.

Alison put her gloved hand on his arm. “I just thought maybe you . . . that you might want to . . . come up to my place for a little while.”

“I can’t,” Jonah said, knowing he had to stop her before she committed herself. So she could pretend it had never happened. What was he supposed to say now? It’s not you, it’s me? Which was the truth, after all.

He looked into her eyes, saw the spark of hope fading. “I’m sorry, Alison, I’m a mess, I really am.” In every way. “I need to clean up and go to bed. I’m filthy, I feel awful, and I’ve got class in”—he checked his phone—“six hours, and you do, too.” He put his gloved hand on her shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”