So. They know where I am. It could have been the Wardens; it could have been the faceless enemy that Scott Sands had so feared. Whoever it might be, they were coming for me, and coming fast. And I welcomed the opportunity for an open, vicious fight. I opened the throttle on the Victory and bent low across the handlebars, and the road became a blur of black, yellow, and shifting shadows. No moon yet, and the last rays of sunset were fading into black. There were headlights on the road coming toward me, and they were bright enough to dazzle. A car suddenly swerved across the line and skidded toward me. I swore under my breath. No time to stop, only a fraction of a second to decide. A Djinn could survive such a crash; I couldn’t. I shifted my weight and steered, heading for the oncoming car, trusting instincts I hadn’t known I possessed. The car brushed by me with inches to spare. The wind of its passage battered me, and I heard the thin, enclosed screams of those inside it. Not my enemies, only victims, trapped in a war they didn’t comprehend.
