My fist closed, and I saw Ivy look from it back to the road. Her eyes were worried. Taking a breath, she pushed her wet hair back, steadying herself for whatever I might do next. She looked too young, too beautiful, too perfect to put up with my crap, and when I touched her hand, she jumped.

We’d gotten away, but my heart was like ash, as black as the coating on my soul. Vivian had seen the depth of it, taken part in it. Maybe she’d leave this part of the trip out of her report.

“Hey,” Jenks said, his thoughts clearly on the same path as mine, “is it true what they say about Vegas?”

“No,” Vivian said, and I caught sight of her red-rimmed eyes in the rearview mirror when the lights of a passing car lit up her misery. “I’m telling them. I’m telling them everything.”

Trent shifted uncomfortably, and Jenks took a breath, a darkly glowing dust spilling from him. I calmed him with a soft nod. I wanted them to know. It might be the only thing that was going to keep my body and soul on this side of the lines. That and maybe Trent’s testimony that I was a good person. I was in trouble if they ever found out Ku’Sox was his demon.

“Double jeopardy,” Trent whispered. “It’s double jeopardy.” His eyes met mine when I turned to him. “It always has been.”

Fifteen

It was the changing sound of the engine that woke me, but the car’s motion never shifted, so I snuggled deeper under my coat and leaned more heavily against the door. A bleary glance at the clock told me we’d been on 80 only for about an hour, and therefore were probably coming into Reno. Four hours of driving a hundred plus in the dark had been more than a little unsettling, but we’d made great time.

Trent was driving again, had been since getting off 95. He could keep the job for all I cared—even if he bitched incessantly until we cut our bathroom and coffee breaks down to almost nothing. The road between Las Vegas and 80 had been nerve-racking, even though we hadn’t seen anyone. There’d been lights. In the air. Lots of them. And they’d kept pace with us no matter how fast Ivy had gone. Trent and Jenks had slept through it all.

Three eighteen, I mused as the clock changed, and I resettled myself against the door, still achy from hitting the floor, wall, table, and whatever else Ku’Sox had thrown me into. The mercury light of a truck stop flashed over me, then another. I slowed my breathing, trying to seduce sleep back to me. If this was almost Reno, then San Francisco was only about 240 miles away. A spike of adrenaline lit and died. Tomorrow. It would all start tomorrow.

“She’ll get you there in time,” Jenks said, his soft voice paced a shade slower than usual, and carrying a hint of both irritation and the altitude sickness he was dealing with. I’d offered him the charm to make him big, and he’d refused, saying the car was crowded enough.