The Blood of Solomon by James E. Wisher

Author:James E. Wisher [Wisher, James E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781685200657
Publisher: Sand Hill Publising

Chapter Thirteen

Itsuko staggered against Cristo then the light of the dimensional door overwhelmed him. A moment later they were standing in an alley half a mile from the scene of the battle. He could hardly believe his rotten luck. First the cops shot out their tires, then the two from the museum showed up, and finally Haakon barreled into the chaos.

What the hell else could go wrong?

With a groan, Itsuko slumped to the ground, a hand clamped to her right shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I got shot. What’s the big idea letting the shield expire like that?”

“I needed the extra power to get us out of there. I assure you, Haakon would’ve done far worse.” Cristo knelt. “Hold still and move your hand.”

The bullet had gone straight through, taking a fair-sized chunk of flesh with it. His power had many uses, but direct healing wasn’t one of them. And if he didn’t get her healed, she’d be useless the next time they ran into the Kugo brats. It was hardly a surprise that Daisuke would be working with his relatives, but it annoyed him all the same. Fire spirit magic was a good deal less of a threat to him than Daisuke’s more flexible skills.

“How did that big bastard even find us?”

“A seeking spell of some sort. Since he has the prison, it wouldn’t take much to track the seal.”

“Does that mean you can find where Haakon is keeping the prison?”

“It does. But right now we need to focus on getting your shoulder fixed and acquiring transportation.”

“I’m all for that.”

Cristo straightened. “I’ll handle it. Stay here.”

She leaned back and rested her head on the side of the nearest building. “Where do you think I’m going to go?”

He smiled and walked deeper into the alley. At the rear of the buildings was a dirty parking lot shared by two buildings on either side of the block. Four cars, none of them remarkable in any way, sat packed in the lot. He chose a tan minivan simply because it was the first one he reached, and waved a hand in front of the lock. It popped open and he pulled the handle.

The most shrill, painful car alarm he’d ever heard went off.

The back door of the nearest building slammed open and a man dressed in a white cook’s apron emerged with a rolling pin in his hand. His red face was dusted with flour and he glared at Cristo through narrow eyes.

“Get the hell away from my car!” The baker waved his rolling pin like it was a sword.

Finally, Cristo’s luck was turning. “Do you have the keys?”

“What I’ve got is a beating and I’m happy to give it to you.” The baker charged down three steps and rushed toward Cristo.

Dark energy gathered around his hand and he hurled it at the baker.

The unlucky fellow went rigid as the paralysis spell took hold.

Cristo walked over, his right index finger crackling with black lightning. “I asked you a question. Do you have the keys?”

No reply.

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