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Roth’s heart was beating furiously. Looking back and forth was making him carsick, but he couldn’t help himself. Their pursuer was moving faster than he should be able to. He was moving like a jaguar priest. The driver accelerated, gaining distance. Roth put his hand on the back of Jordan’s seat to brace himself as they sped toward the next intersection. The Capitol building loomed on their left, its majestic dome an inspiring sight. Usually. Right now, it was just another building. It couldn’t save them.
Roth looked out the back window, his stomach lurching again, and didn’t see the man anymore. “He’s gone,” he breathed out in relief.
“No, he’s changing!” Jordan shouted with fear.
Roth turned his head and shoulder the other way to see out the side window instead—and immediately wished he hadn’t. Their pursuer was running alongside their vehicle, but he was loping like a wolf, using his arms and legs to propel himself. It was a bizarre, disturbing melding of man and beast that reminded him of the ghost stories Moretti’s dad used to tell about the Navajo skinwalkers, the yee naaldlooshii. The look of hatred on the man’s face as he glared at Roth through the window was so intense, so absolute, that Roth feared he would pee himself. He froze in panic, unable to talk.
Jordan reached over and cranked the steering wheel. The driver let out a startled cry as the Tahoe rocked and swerved. Confusion, motion sickness, and terror all slugged it out inside Roth’s gut. The half-man, half-beast was struck by the vehicle and sent tumbling away before he collided with a parked car on the side of the road.
“Faster!” Jordan bellowed. “He’s . . . he’s shaking it off. Faster!” He was looking out the side mirror, eyes wide with panic.
The boys were gripping the seats in front of them in terror. Roth had seen it in their faces before, and it would haunt his dreams forever. He’d put them in harm’s way again. Would this nightmare never end?
The driver was trembling with fear. It was good he couldn’t see what was behind them. He planted his foot on the gas, and the Tahoe roared ahead. They went through the intersection at full speed. Cars honked. They were lucky they didn’t hit any other vehicles.
The road bent hard to the left, then met almost perpendicular with Pennsylvania Avenue, which led away from the Capitol building at an angle. Going straight wasn’t even an option because the National Gallery of Art blocked the way. The driver didn’t even ask, he just took the right, swerving around another car that had stopped at the red light, and entered the intersection. Car horns blared at them from oncoming vehicles.
Roth nearly lost his lunch all over the seat and floor. He only kept it down by sheer force of will.
“I don’t see him,” Jordan declared. “Left on Fourth, left on Fourth! Now! It’s clear!”
The tires of the SUV screeched. Roth felt dizzy, his ears ringing, his stomach feeling even worse. The Tahoe passed across the lanes of traffic and then turned left in response to Jordan’s pointing. Roth shut his eyes, unable to bear the ride. He felt Lucas patting his arm.
“Past Independence,” Jordan said.
“You guys are freaking insane,” the driver muttered.
“This family is in the witness protection program,” Jordan said. “You’ll be reimbursed.”
“You a Fed?”
“Sort of,” Jordan said. “Pull into that parking garage. On the right. Let’s get out of sight.”
“Are you going to shoot me?” the driver demanded.
“No, bruh. I’m going to pay you the biggest tip you’ve had in your life.”
“Really?”
“This family is rich. You just saved their lives. I hope you take crypto.”
“I love crypto!” the driver said enthusiastically.
“Pull in here, then call the police to report the accident. I’ll call the FBI. It’s all good.”
Roth felt the SUV slow and turn as they went into an underground parking garage. The tires squeaked on the smooth cement. His stomach was starting to settle, but the aftertaste of bile in his mouth was terrible. The jaguar priest had pursued them instead of attacking. That meant he was determined to catch them. Alive. If Jacob had wanted Roth and the boys dead, he probably would have made their vehicle explode.
He wants revenge, Roth thought with dread. He remembered the sound of Eric Beasley dying in the arena. His anxiety kicked into overdrive.
The Tahoe stopped, and Jordan climbed out and opened the door. Even the stale air of the parking garage was a relief. Jordan helped Roth climb out. The boys got out too, both of them pale with fear.
Jordan pulled out his cell and made a call. “Hey, Monica. You okay? No, we just got attacked by one of Calakmul’s goons. We’re okay now.”
The sound of police sirens could be heard in the distance, echoing strangely in the parking garage.
“The police are probably looking for us since we ran a few red lights. It was weird, like that guy who attacked us at the cabin. He hadn’t transformed totally, but he was running on all fours. Seriously, we hit him with the Tahoe.” He paused, looking back up the garage ramp. “I don’t hear anything. See anything. Maybe he’s too injured to make another go at us right now.”
Roth looked at the side of the Tahoe. It was dented in as if it had been struck by another vehicle. The driver came around the back, and when he saw the damage, he held up his hands and walked away in disgust.
