“How can the mages of the Magisterium be the good guys if they’d send a monster to murder us just for running away?” Aaron asked. “We’re kids.”
“I don’t know,” Call said. He was starting to worry that there weren’t any good guys. Just people with longer or shorter Evil Overlord lists.
Tamara sighed and scrubbed a hand through her hair. “Right now, we need to find a town, somewhere where we can get new clothes and some food. We look like we set ourselves on fire and then rolled around in the mud. We don’t exactly blend in.”
Havoc, hearing the words roll around in the mud, began to do just that. Call had to admit Tamara was right. They were dirty, and not like actors in movies who had one artistic smear of dirt across a cheekbone. Their uniforms were ripped and bloody and soaked with oily metal elemental goop.
“I guess we start walking,” said Jasper, sounding dispirited.
“We’re not going to walk,” said Aaron. “We’re going to drive. There are three hundred cars here.”
“Yeah, but most of the ones that haven’t been eaten don’t exactly work,” Call pointed out. “And the few that do work don’t have keys waiting for us.”
“Come on,” said Aaron. “I don’t have a dad in prison for nothing. I think I can hot-wire one of these.”
He strode off toward the field of cars with a confident set to his shoulders.
“That’s our Makar,” said Jasper. “Chaos magic and grand theft auto.”
“I thought you said your dad ran off,” Call said to Aaron, running after him. “And that you didn’t know where he was.”
Aaron shrugged. “I guess no one likes to admit their dad is in jail.”
Right then an imprisoned dad didn’t seem like the worst thing to Call, but he knew better than to say it.
Call helped Aaron select the least broken car he recalled Alastair buying. A Morris Minor, its swooping exterior a deep emerald green that contrasted with its red leather seats. It was one of Alastair’s newer cars, manufactured in 1965, and unlike lots of the others, didn’t need a new engine.
“It’s still not fast,” Call warned. “Like, we probably need to stay under forty miles per hour, even on the highway. And it doesn’t have a GPS. He might have installed one eventually, but he didn’t get around to it.”
“What happens if we don’t stay under forty miles per hour?” Tamara asked.
Call shrugged. “Maybe it explodes? I don’t know.”
“Great,” Jasper said. “Can any of you numbskulls drive?”
“Not really,” Aaron said, crouching down under the seat, cutting wires with Call’s knife and wrapping them back together in a new combination.
“How can you know how to hot-wire a car but not drive one?” Jasper asked, heaving a massive sigh.
“That’s a good question,” Aaron muttered, sticking his head out from under the seat. He looked sweaty and a little shaky. “Maybe you should take it up with my dad. He didn’t get around to teaching me before he got locked up.”
“I’ve driven golf carts before,” said Tamara. “How different could it be?”
The engine sprang to life, revving under Aaron’s capable hands.
“I’ll drive,” said Call, whose father had shown him how — sort of. He was in enough trouble that driving an unregistered, uninsured vehicle without a license was hardly going to make much of a difference. Besides, he was the Enemy of Death, an outlaw, a rebel — breaking the law should be the mere tip of his iceberg of evil.
Havoc barked, as if agreeing with him. Havoc had taken the front passenger seat and didn’t seem inclined to let anyone else have it.