Detonation Boulevard (The Wisdom's Grave Trilogy Book 2) by Craig Schaefer

Author:Craig Schaefer [Schaefer, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9781944806125
Publisher: Demimonde Books
Published: 2018-08-13T06:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Eight

Tires ruptured and drew long black streaks on the pavement. The semi screamed to a stop, fishtailing as it pushed the shredded debris of the lead car on its front grill. Its forty-foot trailer turned into a grimy white wall across the intersection. Harmony spun the wheel, hard. The SUV went sideways, still skidding toward the trailer at high speed—and then it lifted off its wheels. Momentum carried it into a roll and it slammed down on its side, throwing Jessie and Daniel against the windows as the glass shattered into fistfuls of glittering buckshot.

Harmony leaned against her seatbelt, suspended by the nylon strap, and gulped down air. She heard more horns blaring, metal buckling, the convoy spinning out of control.

Then, gunfire.

“Jessie,” she gasped. “You okay?”

She shoved hard against the driver’s-side door, swinging it upward and open like the turret hatch on a tank.

Jessie rolled her head in a circle, joints cracking, and popped her seatbelt. “Ready to fuck somebody up. Let’s go.”

“Daniel?” Harmony said, craning her neck to look behind her.

Daniel groaned, his arm slipping against the shattered side window, one sleeve torn and bleeding through. “Nothing broken. I think. Nice driving, slick. You get your license from the same place you got your junior detective badge?”

“Stay put. You’ll be safe in there.”

Even as she said the words, she wasn’t sure she could back them up. No time to think about it. She heaved herself up and out the open door, climbing up onto the side of the flipped SUV, and reached a hand down to pull Jessie out.

The convoy looked like a broken serpent. Fenders and bumpers tangled, ruptured metal fused, three cars joined in a zigzag conga line as they spat oil and radiator smoke. On one end of the street, the semi’s trailer formed an impenetrable wall. On the other, a pair of pickups screeched to a stop and disgorged yellow-eyed shooters like a kicked-over anthill. They jumped from the truck beds, breaking left and right to grab cover behind pillars and sidewalk planters, firing on the move. Harmony’s men were scattered, dazed and wounded from the crash, trying to regroup. A few were already returning fire, taking a knee behind their open doors as slugs pelted the armored SUVs in a copper-jacketed hailstorm.

The crashed semi swung its door wide and the driver jumped down to the street. Nyx. She strode into battle as bullets whined past her, faster with every footstep, a juggernaut building up steam. As blue flames erupted down her back like a lion’s mane, she shed her human disguise. Black, chitinous scales rippled across her flesh and her leathers tore at the seams, burning and falling in tatters, her muscles bending and bulging. She was a praying mantis with the desiccated face of a corpse, trailing oily smoke as her hooves left scorch marks on the pavement. Her tail, segmented and barbed like a scorpion’s, cracked against the air as she chose her first victim.

One of Harmony’s agents had a bead on her.

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