Page 11 of A Deeper Blue
“That’s not a plan,” said Azure staring at him in disbelief. “That’s not even half a plan. That’s a kid’s game, plus some thoughts and prayers. We need an actual plan.”
“That is an actual plan. We’re going to go down this way. Maybe go that way. And then avoid whatever’s that way. Bam. Done.”
Azure gaped at him. “You can’t run your life that way. You can’t even run a lawnmower that way.”
“I don’t run a lawnmower. I fucking hate lawns. They are useless clumps of greenery providing zero sustenance to any species and only give humans something to argue over. I shit on lawns.”
Azure knew her mouth was hanging open but couldn’t seem to close it.
“That part is fun,” he added as if that would help.
“I can’t even…” said Azure.
“Shouldn’t have added the part about shitting,” he said, nodding as if to himself.
“No, I fully support you in that. Lawnsareutterly useless. And always a non-native species.”
He made a pleased noise as he took her map away and began to fold it up.
“But that’s still not a plan,” said Azure. “We have to have structure. Otherwise, it’s just mucking about and hoping that fate knows what it’s doing. And I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t.”
“Fate? No, I think you’re probably right on that one. That bitch has no clue. I, on the other hand, do know what I’m doing.”
“No, you don’t,” said Azure.
“No, I don’t,” he agreed. “But I’m very good at improvising.”
He tucked the map away in his pocket, then reached out and finished zipping her into his motorcycle jacket before climbing on the bike. Azure leaned back to give him room and resisted the urge to bite his ass as it went by.
“You can’t just improvise,” said Azure to the back of his head as she tried to consult the second sight. It was entirely quiet. This was why improvisation didn’t work. Magic was never a sure bet—fate and the future were constantly in flux. A solid, well-researched plan that only used magic to assist went a lot further than wishing. Things only happened if you made them happen.
“You can’t count on things magicallyworking out,” said Azure.
“I’m not,” he said. “I’m counting on my own skills and your handiness with pool cues and spells tomakethings work out.”
Azure wanted to argue, but she wasn’t sure what to say to that, and before she could come up with anything, he flipped the key, and his motorcycle roared to life.
Was he right? It seemed like he was placing an awful lot of confidence in both of them. Azure wasn’t sure that was warranted on either front. Incredible sex was one thing, but trusting each other to get past a gang of killer bikers… Was she crazy? Was he?
Azure held on tight as Rafe took them through town, winding through run-down little neighborhoods and then out to a long ribbon of two-lane blacktop that gently curved through farmland. After nearly thirty minutes of riding, he started to slow and then began to pause at each turnoff. Eventually, he pulled off onto a gravel side strip before an empty intersection with a narrow road.
“Sorry,” he said, hopping off. “Be right back.”
He jogged off into the field. A bumblebee buzzed by, intent on looking for flowers and leaving a pleasant hum in the air. The sun was warm, the wind was only a tiny bit chilly, and her boyfriend was smelling a fencepost.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she told the bumblebee as it landed on an orange California Poppy that was boldly embracing spring. “I just met him.” The bee did not appear to care and continued ravaging the flower, making mad love to its pollen-coated center. “Yeah,” Azure said, “it’s like that.”
Rafe jogged back to the bike. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s this one.”
Azure closed her eyes and consulted the second sight. It still had no opinions on whether this was the correct course of action. She wasn’t sure what to make of that, except that it left her feeling like she was spinning out of control.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked, hating herself for the uncertainty in her voice. She was the one who always knew what was going on.
His head cocked to the right. “Do you think I can’t take on a few Warlocks?”
“Rafe! This is more than a few. That was at least fifty dots. And we don’t even know why they’re after us. If it’s us. It’s probably me.”
“It’s probably me,” he said.
