“I suppose,” she agreed, sounding doubtful. “Call me when you park, okay?”

Making a murmur of agreement, I closed the phone and dropped it onto my lap.

“Good plan,” Trent said breathily, and a single warning flag went up, as smooth and sure as ice is cold. I don’t know why, because he was agreeing with me, but his attitude—the overwhelming relief he was trying to hide—was at complete odds with what he should be feeling with someone tailing us. Frowning, I thought back to whose idea it was to stop in St. Louis in the first place. Ivy’s, I think. She’d bought a flight going there.

The tires hummed as we found the bridge, and the world seemed to shift as we headed right for the city. The arch was huge. Word was that it pinned down one of the city’s ley lines, which I thought suspect. Why would anyone do anything so stupid?

“You need the Memorial Drive exit,” Trent said intently. “It goes right past the park.”

“Thanks, Trent,” I said, my eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“You’re in the wrong lane,” he added, and clenching my teeth, I wondered what he’d do if I just drove past the exit. Watching his body language, I shifted even farther to the left to get around a black car. Sure enough, he tensed.

Interesting, I mused, and then, checking the rearview to see that the gold car had done the same, I slid back to the right-hand lane, making the motion far too fast. Jenks yelped, taking to the air as the steering wheel spun. Trent clutched the dash, glaring at me as we rocked to a halt, but saying little else as his sunglasses slid off the dash and to my feet. Another warning flag went up. That should have gotten me more than a dirty look.

“You’re going to have to do a lot more than that to lose them,” Jenks said, misreading my motion, and I eyed the semi that roared up behind me, aggressively making his brakes flatulate in an effort to get me to move faster. Faster. That might be a good idea, seeing as that gold Cadillac was a car length away. Three guys. All blonds. Elves? Not the coven, then.

My phone hummed, and I ignored it. Trent jerked, his eyes showing a new alarm as he turned to me. “We need to get off this road. Now.”

“Like how?” I snarled. “Our exit isn’t for another two miles.”

“Well, do something!” Trent exclaimed. “Someone is prepping a spell.”

My eyes flicked behind us, seeing the three heads clustered together. The shoulder was on one side and that truck on the other as he tried to pass me. A little VW bug was ahead of me, full of people. “Are you nuts? No one would make a hit on the expressway. Too many people could get hurt. And besides, I don’t feel—”

“Look out!” Jenks shrilled, and I gasped, jerking the wheel as a reddish-gold ball of something blossomed from the car behind us. Our tires hit the shoulder, gravel kicking up underneath as I struggled to maintain control at a suddenly too-fast sixty-five miles per hour.