Johnathan stripped off his shirt.
His cell phone rang. Craige. Johnathan answered while he worked to remove the rest of his clothes. “I’m a little busy right—”
“Dalton…” The voice was so butchered Johnathan couldn’t be sure it was Craige who spoke.
“Say that again. I can’t understand y—” The call disconnected.
Nash flicked a look up from the phone to Johnathan. “Go.” He picked up the injector. “I’ll do the second one myself.”
“You won’t be able to…”
“Dr. Dante’s alone out there with your men. If Craige is down…” Nash didn’t have to say the rest. If Craige was down, there was a good chance Dalton was dead.
Nash pressed the injector against his thigh and pulled the trigger.
“Go, Johnathan. I got this.” Nash’s expression contorted with some combination of rage and agony, then all the humanness bled away. He got to his feet.
“Watch for second heads.” Johnathan’s teeth sharpened. “They could be anywhere. Decapitating them might not now work.”
Nash sneered, then vanished under a web of black.
Johnathan let the Sarvari take over and bolted, following the tracks the sedan left behind in the dry grass.
* * *
Craige steered Reese out the door and down the steps, dragging him more than letting him walk. “I don’t need an escort. I can drive myself.”
Craige pulled open the back passenger door and shoved Reese in.
He hit the seat and slid onto the floor.
The driver and passenger side door opened and shut hard enough to rock the vehicle.
Reese climbed out of the floorboard. “You need to stay and help them. There’s too many for Nash and Johnathan to fight. I can lure them away on my own.”
“Those weren’t our orders.” Craige put the car in gear.
The sedan lurched, the back tires kicked up dirt, and the rear fish-tailed, tossing Reese across the bench seat.
He caught himself on the door and scrambled to buckle the seatbelt. At least he could keep from being thrown. “He’s your commanding officer, team leader, whatever. You have to help him.”
They cleared the slope of the hill running behind the house. Across the horizon, hundreds of curs. Enough to create a black sliver.
“Fuck.” Craige headed west. The opposite direction of the station wagon.
For some reason, it didn’t make Reese feel better.
“Where are we going to go?” Dalton said.
“As soon as we get some distance, I’ll hit the highway to the airport. From there, we’ll take the jet back to Manitoba.”
“That’s not what Johnathan said to do,” Reese said.
“Yeah, well, he didn’t say not to. And since I’m next in command, where we go is my call.” Craige exchanged a look with Dalton who dropped his gaze. Something like shame crossed his face.
Reality left a weight in Reese’s chest. “You don’t think he’s going to survive, do you?”
Craige flicked a look up in the rearview too fast for Reese to catch it.