Page 88 of The Vigilante's Lover
The road is quiet. Only the occasional car passes, its headlights piercing the dark.
“Destination?” the car insists.
I’m beginning to hate her. “Stop auto-drive,” I say. Maybe now she’ll leave me alone.
I hold on to the wheel again. I’m probably a sitting duck in this car. As soon as Klaus gets free, he’ll alert someone. He might even be able to take control of his vehicle remotely.
What was I thinking?
Still, the giddiness of being in such a car doesn’t fade.
“Does this car have a stealth mode?” I ask.
“This Aston Martin is equipped with three cloaking levels,” it says. “One. Heat and infrared. Two. Radar and transmissions. Three. Low visibility.”
“I want them all,” I say.
“Reminders. All internal heating will be turned off. All ability to communicate will be cut. Low visibility can only be achieved in certain light levels and environments.”
“Fine, fine,” I say. “Just do it.”
“Cloaking levels one, two, and three initiated,” it says.
I try to relax. I figure Pale Boy and whoever sent him will think I’m clueless. Hopefully this car is smarter than they are.
I drive for another hour, fighting sleep. I don’t know where I’m headed or what I’m doing next. When I feel like I’ve done enough random zigzagging on highways and back roads to make it difficult to figure out my path, I pull over beside a twenty-four-hour convenience store to look at my stash.
“Can I get a light?” I ask the car.
“Interior lights will compromise cloaking levels one and three.”
“That’s fine,” I say. “It’s just for a minute.”
An overhead light pops on.
The sight of my grandma’s quilt gives me some comfort in the unfamiliar car. I’m glad I took it. I don’t know if I’ll ever get home again.
The pile of gadgets I took doesn’t mean anything to me. The watch, the shoes, bits of metal with no obvious use. Two slender metal wands. The big onyx ring I was wearing is in there. It must have fallen off my finger during the struggle. I put it on again.
I sit back against the driver’s seat. What am I doing here? Nobody knows where Jax is. This car won’t help me.
Maybe I should just drive to the silo and take my chances.
“Your temperature and pulse indicate fatigue and hunger,” the car says. “Would you like a cold beverage or caffeine shot?”
“Yes to the cold beverage,” I say. Good thing, since I don’t have a penny to my name to even walk into the convenience store.
A list of drinks scrolls on the dashboard screen. I choose “Mr. Pibb” and have to smile that my would-be abductor has the same soft-drink preferences as me.
A buzzing sound by my elbow makes me shift nearer the door. The console opens and a can of Mr. Pibb rises from inside.
This, I understand. I take the can. Can Vigilantes get anything they want, anytime they want it? I remember Jax calling that guy to bring me clothes. Who was that? Armond? I had been half asleep, but I caught the end of the conversation.
Armond. Could he find Jax for me?
If this is Klaus’s car, he would know Armond too. And Armond isn’t a Vigilante, so it shouldn’t snub me.
“I need to contact someone,” I tell the car.
