Ian

THE Taurus launched down the street and turned, vanishing into the city. The M5 chasing Abby screeched around the corner right behind her. My plan had better work.

I brought up a map of Denver in my head, checking my path. The race cars were at a shop a couple of blocks north.

Just as the Hunters rounded a corner behind me, I picked up my pace toward the nearest street corner.

A quick burst of energy propelled me to the second block. Around the corner, I found the back door of Speed Customs. I pressed my hand against the lock and reached out telekinetically to touch the pin tumblers inside. As I twisted the handle, I sent a tiny shockwave through it.

It didn't budge.

I did it again. Nothing. And again. Still nothing.

On the fourth try, the lock clicked, turning over.

I slipped inside and locked the door behind me. The first door I came to inside was a utility closet. The next one was the shop.

Light flooded into the garage as I flipped the switches. Our race cars were at the front.

A whispered shot followed by a metallic sound came from the room I'd just come from.

I jumped into the closest race car and strapped in.

Pooling energy into my hand, I blasted the garage door, mangling it and jarring the car backward at the opposing force. The second blast tore the door off its tracks, sending it into the alley.

I hit the start button and the engine roared to life.

Someone burst through the shop door behind me.

I hit first gear, dumped the clutch, and immediately regretted it. The car shot forward and I jerked the wheel right while standing on the brake and clutch, narrowly missing the building next door.

Another engine started up. An engine that sounded just like mine. Why couldn't they have made keys for these cars?

I dumped the clutch once more and shot off down the alley.

Two Hunters came around the corner, then jumped back right before I clipped them. They fired off shots, but only one pinged off the edge of my car.

I raced toward downtown Denver.

The other Formula One replica followed me in my rearview mirror. City lights streaked by all around me. I weaved through three cars in two blocks. The other race car still managed to stick with me. The light ahead turned red and ran it as I dodged another car.

The race car had seemed incredibly fast back in the Dragon Castle, but with other cars around moving so slow on city streets, it felt like a death trap.

An eighteen wheeler rolled through the next intersection. I floored it and turned, drifting toward its trailer. My hair stood on end as its tires tried to mow me down while I slipped underneath. The trailer legs passed inches from my face, nearly taking my head off. The car slid out the other side, unscathed.

I jerked the car left at the next intersection, sliding through the turn. My back tire tapped the curb of the sidewalk just as I gained traction and slingshotted down the road.

Cars peppered the street up ahead. I weaved in and out of them with mere inches to spare.

A part of me loved this. Clearly, there was something wrong with me.

The Hunter jumped the sidewalk to miss the traffic, gaining a few car lengths on me.

I drifted the next corner onto Lincoln Street right under the trailer of another semi-truck. I missed the truck on the other side by about three inches. I caught second gear and dumped the clutch, spinning the tires.

Once again, the Hunter appeared in my rear-view mirror. Who was this guy?

I chanced a look at my watch. Only twenty seconds to make up the distance. If I couldn't lose him in that time, I just hoped my plan would work.

That's when I caught a good glimpse of the Hunter in my side mirror. It was Scarface—the one Emma had called Merek, the Telekinetic who'd found me in Bennett.

I flipped the scrambler switch on my phone to kill the street cameras. A flip of the second switch began a chain of green traffic lights appearing down the street, one by one. I wound out second gear at 80 mph and hit third. 90... 100... 110... With Merek still hot on my tail, I crested 120 mph, burning toward 17th Avenue.

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