The Liberator

20 Look at Her Go

My mind repeats the mantra over and over.

Stop-stop-stop!

And then, suddenly, the pain is gone.

Blue rushes in with Charlie at his heel. He grabs my arm and tugs me to my feet. A wave of dizziness sweeps over me, but other than that, I’m fine.

“He was screaming,” Charlie says, her voice shaking. She wraps her arm around my waist, and the two of them lead me toward the bed. I sit down.

“What happened?” Blue asks. He holds a hand to my forehead like he’s my mom. I slap it away.

“I don’t have a fever, idiot,” I say. “I just…”

I just what? Almost broke in half? Spilled my guts onto the swirly carpet? Deep in my mind, I know what just took place, but I don’t want to say anything. Not now. Not until I’m sure.

“I just had a cramp,” I say, realizing how ridiculous it sounds.

Better than, I think wings just tried to shoot out of my back.

Charlie eyes me in a way that says she isn’t buying it. But she doesn’t push me, either. “Just tell us you’re okay.”

“Screw that,” Blue interrupts. “Tell us what the hell you were screaming about, because I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a cramp.”

For the next several minutes, he asks the same question, and I repeat the same answer—I had a cramp. It’s strange, but the only person I want to talk to right now is Valery. And I trust that she’ll stay true to her word and get to us soon.

“Let it go, Blue,” I growl. “I’ll talk to Valery about my muscle spasms.”

Moments later, Annabelle and Aspen enter, bickering about who knows what. “They’ve been at each other’s throats all morning,” Blue offers, though he’s still watching me uncertainly. I wonder if, like Max and me, he’s thought about Rector’s and Kraven’s wings. I’m not sure. But if he has, he may suspect what I just experienced. Thankfully, he seems to be letting it go. Me, on the other hand, I’m having a full-blown panic attack and trying hard to hide it.

As Annabelle calls Aspen some sort of name—that sounds something like hussy—Charlie disappears into the bathroom. She returns with a wet towel and runs it over my brow. The towel reminds me of when a collector knocked Max out with a fire extinguisher, leaving him to spend the night with a hotel towel pressed to his head. That was the same night I told him that I was going to go against Lucille’s orders to collect her soul.

“We need to go.” I get to my feet and wobble for a second. Charlie grabs my arm. “Aspen, you got your keys?”

Aspen gives Annabelle one final repulsed look before facing me. “Yeah, I got them.”

“Then let’s head out.” I try to play it cool, but inside, my heart still pounds.

As we walk toward Aspen’s car, Blue keeps an eye on me. He seems genuinely concerned, and I can’t say I hate knowing he cares. But all I can think about, regardless of who is worried about me, are those damn wings. I want them, but I don’t want to experience that torture again. For now, to calm my twisting stomach, I try to think about something else. About Charlie. About Valery telling me Aspen’s safety is Charlie’s safety. About Grams and her water bottles full of vodka. Whatever.

It doesn’t really work. Not as we crawl into the car and buckle up. Not as Aspen heads east toward Alabama. Not even when night tumbles in through the windows.

And much later, when we’re leaving a shady diner after grubbing down, I’m still thinking about it.

Charlie squeezes my hand, and even though every light in the oversized parking lot is burned out, I know every curve of her face well enough to still see it perfectly.

“You’ve been quiet,” she says.

I grip her hand and pull her closer. In front of us, Annabelle and Aspen argue over whether black-and-white movies are amazing or archaic. Blue walks a few feet behind like he’s waiting for the pair to transition from verbal zingers to hair pulling. He wants a front-row seat for that show, and I don’t blame him.

“I know what happened back there,” Charlie says. “I know why you were screaming.”

I stop midstride.

She curls herself against me and wraps her arms around my waist. Staring up at me, she moves her hands to my shoulder blades. Her fingers run over the place where I felt the most pain, but now all I feel are goose bumps raising along my skin. I close my eyes against her touch and lean my head down toward her neck.

“Are you afraid?” she asks. “That it’ll happen again?”

Yes.

“No,” I say, my voice gruff.

Behind me, I hear the sound of car doors being opened and know that soon the Three Stooges will break up our moment. But for now, I let Charlie soothe me and try to do the same for her.

When the sound of Aspen’s voice finally rings out, it doesn’t surprise me. What does surprise me is her tone. Behind Charlie, I notice four figures neatly hidden in the shadows.

I hold Charlie tighter, slowly turning our bodies so that I’m between them and her. Bending down, I take her heart-shaped face in my hands. I press my lips to her honeysuckle mouth—

And then I push her back toward safety and explode toward the shadows.

Blue is there a second later, his fist connecting with Gage’s stomach.

I hit Salem once before the other three—Easton, Gage, and Lyra—are on me like cockroaches. I punch and kick and receive a burst of adrenaline when Charlie screams. One glance in her direction tells me Annabelle’s holding her in place, and though Charlie is fighting to get loose and help our cause, Annabelle is much stronger.

Thank Big Guy for that.

Agony detonates from all sides of my body as the four sirens throw their fists into my muscles, my bones. At some point I hear the crack of my cell phone in my pocket and know it’s DOA. Blue tries to help fight, but it isn’t enough. We’re two against four, and we’ll be lucky if we can get the three girls out of here unharmed.

Remembering Charlie’s life may be on the line, I ignore the pain and focus on one siren at a time. The first person I see is Lyra. I pause for only a beat before pulling my arm back, because I’m not above hitting a chick if she’s trying kill Charlie. But before my hand connects, Lyra gets laid out.

I mean, she gets—

Laid.

The.

Fuck.

Out.

Standing over her, causing everyone to stop and stare, is Aspen. With fury dancing in her green eyes, and a touch of red glowing against her dark clothing, she looks very much like a black widow ready to strike.

“Get that bitch,” Gage yells to Easton, and the way he says it, with such urgency, it’s like Aspen was their target all along.

Blue tries to stop him when he rushes by, but Easton’s suddenly Adrian Peterson, spinning like a ballerina and finding an opening. Before I can warn Aspen to get back, he’s on her.

And then he’s laid out, too.

Aspen’s hands are raised like she’s Bruce Lee, like she can’t wait to slaughter the next person who’s dumb enough to come at her. And all I’m thinking is, how is this chick able to fight better than I am?

While Salem is distracted, I throw a punch into his gut and bring him to the ground. He’s back on his feet in seconds, and now he and his brother, who has recovered, are on me. My back hits the concrete, and pebbles dig into my skin as Easton whips his leg into my ribs. From the ground, I see a silhouette over the brothers’ backs. It’s Aspen; she’s back for more.

She chops the side of her hand into Salem’s neck, and he drops like a fallen tree. Easton whirls around and goes for Aspen’s throat. No matter. She just spins her arms in and out, deflecting his hands and throwing her fist into his kidney.

“Hope you piss blood for a month,” she spits.

Next, she lands a kick on Lyra’s side before returning to Gage. She’s like a tornado, taking out everything in her path with controlled rage.

Blue pulls me to my feet. As soon as I’m up, I move to help Aspen, but he blocks me with his arm. “Look at her,” he says, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “She’s amazing.”

I hesitate, watching this girl with fingerless gloves among four sirens, beating them back with the same effort she might use to paint her nails. She doesn’t even need our help. And Blue’s right—she’s amazing.

Charlie finally gets away from Annabelle and races toward me. I meet her halfway and hold her back with even more strength than her best friend used.

“We’ve got to get you out of here,” I say, eyeing Annabelle, hoping she understands I mean for her to take Aspen’s car and go. “We’ll get Aspen and be right behind you.” Spinning around, I see Blue has joined the fight again, and adrenaline floods through me. “Go,” I tell Charlie, trying to push her back toward Annabelle.

“Like hell I will,” Charlie yells. Like a rabbit struggling against a coyote, she somehow breaks free and bounds toward Aspen.

“Charlie!” I charge after her until I hear the sound of a car approaching. I imagine it’s the owner of the diner, or the cops. How long have we been fighting the sirens? It feels like hours but has probably only been a couple of minutes.

A green 4Runner rips across the parking lot. Someone leaps out of the driver’s side.

Max!

Max gets to Charlie before I do. He reserves none of the gentleness I bestowed her before. Instead, he throws the tiny girl over his shoulder and rushes toward the SUV.

“No, wait,” I call out, relief rushing over me that he’s really here. My best friend is here. “Take Aspen’s car.”

He glances at the Ford Shelby. “Oh, damn,” he says before changing course and running toward the car. He corrals Charlie into the back, and Annabelle gets in the front.

“Blue,” Max calls out. “Get in the car.”

Blue looks at Max and then goes right back to pulling Lyra off Aspen.

“Blue, now!” Max thunders. His voice holds a ring of authority I’ve never heard before.

This time Blue listens. He jumps in the back with Charlie.

Now it’s my turn to get Aspen. I sprint toward her. After throwing one last right hook into Salem’s temple, she dashes away, yanking the keys out of her pocket and tossing them to me as she runs.

Aspen jumps into the back, and Max dives over Charlie’s, Aspen’s, and Blue’s laps. They groan from the weight as I start the engine and slam on the gas. In the rearview, I see the four sirens jogging behind the diner, probably headed to Gage’s BMW.

“What’s the plan, Max?” I ask. “We probably don’t have long.”

“Take the freeway east for six miles, exit at Lancaster, and take a right,” he instructs from the backseat. “There’s a plane waiting.”

I nod. “How the hell did you find us?”

“The tracker in your phone, duh.” Max giggles like a child from the backseat.

“My damn phone had a tracker?” I growl, glad it’s gone now. “Who did that?”

“Dude, seriously?”

And yeah, I guess he doesn’t need to say anything else. Valery is the one who insisted Charlie and I get phones, and that she’d buy them for us. I roll my eyes and decide to let it slide, considering Max just got us out of there safely.

I take the exit and pull into a small landing area. There’s only one small plane, painted creamy white with a maroon racing stripe. The side reads, buck’s plane corp.

I throw the muscle car into park and get out. Soon the six of us are loaded onto the plane, and Buck himself is zooming us down the runway. Aspen stares through a window at the car we’re ditching, and a ball of guilt bubbles in my chest. She’s left behind many things for us—her sister Sahara, her friend Lincoln, and a damn fine car. I’d like to seal her soul as a thank-you but decide to respect her wishes and let her be.

I turn to Charlie. She puts a hand on my leg, and I give a weak smile as the plane lifts from the tarmac and into the air. Behind us, Blue is drilling Aspen with questions. Where did she learn to fight? and Can she teach him those moves? And a bit quieter, Is she okay? Is she sure?

I focus on the ground rushing by beneath us and ponder the same questions. But more than anything, I wonder why the sirens fought Aspen like there was nothing more important than taking her down. I study Aspen, this girl that’s surprised me more than once.

Who are you?

Glancing back at the runway, I don’t see Gage’s car or any sight of the sirens. And for some reason, that bothers me more than if I did.