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What he failed but needed to understand was, as Door Master (and a resident of Philadelphia), she had a mission too. A little daunting to go up against him, but as she drove downtown, Truly made a decision. She’d do what he asked and stay out of his way… until it became clear she couldn’t anymore. The Wendigo was his problem. Protecting innocent people, keeping Westvane from leveling the city she called home, had just become hers.
* * *
Truly remaineduneasy the entire way downtown.
Operating a motorized death-trap, driving through angry crowds, wasn’t as easy as it looked. From his position in the passenger seat, Westvane tapped into her tension. The Door Master didn’t like what she was seeing.
The people of Philadelphia weren’t fooling around. Throngs of humans stood on every street corner. More marched, rising and falling like waves along wide boulevards, streaming down sidewalks, past the brick buildings acting like bulwarks on either side of the street.
Mob mentality.
Hive mind.
The crowd jostling the car suffered from both maladies.
The Wendigo had been more than just busy. It now presented a clear and present danger. One Westvane would’ve preferred Truly sit out. Instead, she sat in the driver’s seat, cursing under her breath, trying to find a clear path through the heaving mass while he rodeshotgun.
Weird colloquialism.
He didn’t even have a shotgun. Though, as he understood it, humans liked idioms and ignored the literal, enjoying all manner of odd sayings.The stranger, the better.Earth Realm ought to adopt the slogan as their new planetary anthem. Write the lyrics. Hammer out a melody. Sing the song until everyone caught the fever. Maybe the rabble, carrying banners and handmade signs, buzzing like angry bees toward the city center, would sing-shout it while on the march.
Not an outlandish assumption given the sheer number on the street.
“We need to get out of here,” Truly said, scanning left, then right, searching for a way off the main boulevard as people swarmed the vehicle. “Find somewhere to park away from the crowds.”
Westvane agreed. “Walk in from the perimeter.”
“Blend into the crowd.” Turning the wheel, she crept forward, doing her best not to hit anyone. “You think you can do that?”
With a snort of disbelief, he cranked his window down. “No. I want them to see me coming.”
Her brows drew together. “Why?”
“The sooner they see me, the faster they’ll get out of my way.”
She eyed him. “You’ll scare the bejeezus out of them.”
“Good.”
“And if there’s a stampede?”
“Their problem, not mine.”
“Westvane,” she said, tone low with warning. “You’re not allowed to kill anyone here.”
“If someone’s stupid enough to get in my way, I’ll give them what they deserve.”
She opened her mouth to lecture him.
He cut her off by leaving his seat. Sliding his upper body out the open window, he perched on the steel frame and, head and shoulders above the crowd, looked for an opening big enough to get the car though. He spotted one less than ten yards, a clear path between two tall apartment buildings.
“To the right, princess.”
“A street?”
He nodded. “No barricades.”
She turned the wheel, nudging people with the side of the vehicle.
