Set Ablaze by Teyla Branton

Author:Teyla Branton [Branton, Teyla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romantic Urban Fantasy
ISBN: 978-1-939203-74-8
Publisher: White Star Press
Published: 2016-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

ALREADY I WAS PUSHING BACK the jitters that tempted me to curl up on the ground and howl like some rabid dog. So far, we hadn’t run into any sign that we’d been pursued, but I was beginning to worry about how we’d get to Dona Mafalda and her family.

“The Emporium could be keeping them anywhere,” I said. “If they’ve taken them.” There was a chance they hadn’t, but only a very slim one because of the abandoned car.

Kenna’s head shifted in my direction, though I couldn’t make out her features. “The only area we’ve seen them guarding is the compound near the vineyard. I’d say that’s the best place to start. It’s probably also where they’re keeping their records.” Kenna might care about helping me find Dona Mafalda’s family, but her mention of the records told me she also hoped to complete our original mission.

Getting to the Emporium’s compound meant at least a mile to town and another few miles beyond. With my wounds, walking was torture, and I suspected Kenna was experiencing a similar pain. Using the motorcycle might be worth the risk of the Emporium hearing us, but the basket made it impossible to drive through the trees, unless we traveled close to the road where the vegetation was sparse. Closer to the road was infinitely more dangerous.

I could remove the basket, but there was only one way to do that without tools, and that included the possibility of exploding the gas tank and ruining our only means of transportation. If only I weren’t shaking so badly.

“We’re wasting time,” Kenna said, apparently coming to the same decision. She stopped walking and went down on her good knee. “You can melt the bolts holding this basket, right? Without blowing it up?” Trust her to get right to the point.

“Maybe. You have any curequick?” I hated to ask.

A quick shake of her head. “All back at the villa. I gave you the only pouch I had on me.”

“Right.” Forcing a smile, I squatted and peered under the motorcycle. Steady, I thought, reaching out a finger to the first of the four huge nuts. It melted without incident, followed by the second.

I was reaching for the third when a sudden crack of a branch made me careless, and the nut melted in a rush, liquefying also the bolt and the metal plates protecting the wicker, and leaving a fist-size hole in the basket itself. So much for my promise to the old man.

“This way! I hear something!” a voice called. Maybe in English or German—I was in too much of a hurry to do anything more than understand the meaning. Definitely not Portuguese.

Kenna drew her gun, placing her body between me and the voices. Leaving the last nut intact, I jumped on the motorcycle and started the engine. Kenna hopped on behind me, one hand wrapping around my bare chest as I popped the clutch, almost throwing us off the seat with the abruptness. The basket bounced, sending the three loose bolts flying.

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