1.07 – Speed Demons

Carda checked in on Xironi every day for almost a week, and was relieved that she seemed to be recovering from the ordeal. On the sixth day, she was actually able to get on her feet again, and the next day she invited Carda over for lunch.

“You sure you don’t want me to help with anything?” Carda inquired as he watched Xironi laboriously make her way around the kitchen. The kitchen was more cluttered than usual, because Lucas had set up his alchemy equipment over the sink and around the stove. It looked like a brass chemistry set, lots of tubes and gleaming vials.

“I’m fine. Really,” she assured him for what had to be the twelfth time. “I need to be on my feet and moving around, otherwise I’ll never get better. Lucas wanted to help, so I sent him to the store. I can cook by MYSELF once in a while, thanks. Besides,” she added with a smile, “it’s hardly a thank-you-for-saving-me lunch if you have to do all the work yourself.”

“I just don’t want to help nurse you back to health only to watch you collapse from overdoing it.”

“I’m not overdoing it. If anything, I’m not doing enough to speed up my own recovery. Here,” Xironi said, setting a plate of soft tacos in front of Carda. “Eat up, hero.”

As delicious as the plate of food looked, Carda’s attention was suddenly drawn to the pendant hanging from a chain around Xironi’s neck. It looked like a small cone-shaped piece of ivory, carved in spirals down to the tip, but roughly cut at the top, as if it had been snapped off from something bigger. “That’s an interesting pendant,” he commented.

“Isn’t it unique?” Xironi replied, holding it up. “I found it on the floor of the central lounge this morning.”

“Can I see it?” Carda asked.

“Sure,” Xironi grinned, leaning forward so as to bring the pendant within Carda’s reach. He brought his right hand up and let the pendant rest there as he looked it over—

“I’ve always had it,” Echo said. “I don’t even remember where I got it. I’ve always worn it around my neck… It’s strange, really. If I leave it behind someplace, I start to feel cold, then I panic… I guess it’s kind of like a security blanket for me.”

“It’s beautiful,” Carda replied. “Like you.”

Echo blushed a little. “I’m glad you think so.”

Carda gazed into her eyes, and Echo returned the look. Permission was asked, then granted, without uttering a single word. Carda leaned forward and placed his lips on hers—

Carda sat there in the kitchen, leaning forward. Xironi stood a few feet back from her side of the counter, eyes wide, mouth open. The pendant dangled from her neck.

The two stared at each other for a moment, both of them puzzled, confused, and more than a little embarassed. “Um… what just happened?” Carda asked quietly.

“You tell ME,” Xironi retorted, still shocked. “You were just looking at my pendant, then you spaced out, like you were in some sort of trance or something. Then…” She took a breath. “Then you leaned forward and tried to kiss me.”

Carda blinked. “I did what?”

“You tried to KISS me!” Xironi repeated. “I mean, I know you obviously care enough about me to rescue me from a life-threatening situation, but…” Xironi’s conflicted feelings flickered back and forth across her face like a sort of emotional light show.

Carda, on the other hand, tried to recall what had happened, but there was only a vague memory of a conversation with some other girl.

Neither of them knew what to make of the situation. In an attempt to clear the air, Carda settled in and started eating the food that had been placed in front of him.

“Now you’re going to start eating?” Xironi asked incredulously.

“It would be a shame to waste a perfectly good plate of tacos simply because of a mysterious attempt at a kiss,” Carda replied between bites. “Not only that, but eating helps me think. Besides, I like tacos.” He took another bite. “And these are exceptionally delicious.”

Xironi relaxed a little, but in the corner of her mind she wondered what on earth had just happened, and why she had reacted the way she did. She fixed herself some tacos and sat down at the counter beside Carda, with an empty chair between them. She felt she needed a bit of extra space.

“Are you still having nightmares?” Carda sipped a soda.

Xironi shrugged. “I didn’t have any last night. They’ve been tapering off. Really, they were almost getting boring… How many times can you dream that you’ve been sucked out of your body and stuck into a cold, rigid blade with no senses?” She watched Carda as he started on his third taco. Why had he tried to kiss her? Did he think their relationship was primed to move beyond friendship? He had saved her, after all, and had come to check on her every day since then…

As Xironi’s brain raced to over-analyze everything Carda had done in the past week, Carda ate his lunch, oblivious. He pondered Xironi’s necklace, and from there his thoughts wandered to that crystal that Ben had stolen. He wondered if it really had shielded them from the shadow spirits. He looked at Xironi thoughtfully. Maybe she knew where Ben had taken the crystal.

Xironi met his eyes and smiled. He was looking at her. Maybe he was going to say something. Ask her on a date or something. She waited.

“Xironi,” Carda began.

He was interrupted as the side door opened, and Lucas entered with an armful of grocery bags. “Hello,” Lucas said cheerfully, setting his load on the counter. “Smells good in here. Your grocery store system is so simple! No bartering at all!” He pulled a stack of paper and envelopes out of a grocery bag and set them down in front of Xironi. “I got the mail on the way in.”

Secretly disappointed, Xironi sorted through the mail. She picked up one flyer, glanced at it, and slid it to Carda. “Looks like there’s a big race in Los Fuegos next week.”

“Sweet!” Carda examined the flyer. “Looks like this one’s got big sponsors. No wonder it’s at Los Fuegos… I wonder if Slicks can fit me in for a once-over.”

Lucas leaned over the counter. “You race? Can I come watch?”

“If I can get in,” said Carda, grinning. He began telling Lucas all about his car and the tweaks he had done to it. Xironi only rolled her eyes. She could forget about any potential romantic moments now.

Rayn and Octavius stood looking at the empty stasis chamber in the cold room. A katana lay on the floor beside it, its blade tarnished and dull.

“We’ve underestimated this Carda,” said Octavius, picking up the katana. He swung it back and forth thoughtfully. “Not only did he infiltrate the school, but he also figured out how to return her soul to her body. Not an easy feat.”

Rayn was looking at the empty chamber with relief, but he masked it as he looked at his mentor. “I wish I had dealt with him myself. Did Dimetrius say how they managed to get away?”

“He said they had some sort of protection,” said Octavius. “Carda’s Angelus was with him. She probably held the shadow spirits at bay until they could escape.”

“Where did they go?” asked Rayn.

Octavius shrugged. “They vanished on the far side of the portal. They did not teleport… we think they used a device tesser, which is much harder to track and leaves no residue. But we will find them.” Octavius looked at the handle of the katana, then laid it on top of the empty chamber. “My agents have been researching James Carda. He has quite the reputation for street racing. We expect him to appear at the race in Los Fuegos next week.”

“Racing?” said Rayn, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “Could I be the one to bring him in if he shows up at the race?”

“Yes, I was going to ask you,” said Octavius. “I know how much you enjoy your little cars. But remember, Carda is no use to us dead.”

Rayn tried not to look too gleeful. “Yes sir.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What? It’s the same car I always race with, Slicks,” Carda said.

They stood in Slicks’ shop, surrounded by car parts, dust, and the smell of axel grease. The noise of the garage outside was muffled by the thin walls. Carda’s red Roadster, subject of their conversation, was parked outside.

“In Sun Valley, yes,” Slicks retorted. “But Los Fuegos is the next level, Carda. The only people who compete in Los Fuegos are the racers who’re trying to get into The Big Time. You’ll be completely out of your league in a car that’s still mostly stock parts.”

“I happen to like a car that doesn’t look like an advertisement for every race shop and parts manufacturer in Sun Valley,” Carda sniffed.

“I’m not talking about the body, I’m talking about the engine,” said Slicks, pounding a hand on the grimy counter. “And the entire undercarriage, for that matter. They’ll eat you alive up there unless we give you a complete overhaul.”

Carda gazed at his roadster, torn between the necessity of aftermarket parts and the purity of stock hardware. He sighed. “Are you sure there’s no other way?”

Slicks considered the situation for a moment. “What does Sera think of this little excursion?”

“I, uh, haven’t told her yet.”

“I was wrong about you, Carda,” Slicks replied, shaking his head. “You ARE suicidal after all.”

“Look, just because Sera’s an Angelus doesn’t mean she’s my own personal bulletproof vest with wings, okay?”

“Yeah, well—” Slicks blinked, realizing what Carda had just said. “Wait, what?”

“What?”

“You just said something about Sera.”

“She’s not a bulletproof vest.”

“With wings, you said.”

Carda shrugged. “So what?”

Slicks pointed at him. “You’ve seen her wings.”

“I don’t follow your logic, Slicks.”

“You’ve seen her wings. You KNOW she’s an Angelus.”

“In hindsight, you only dropped me about a billion hints. I fail to see what this has to do with anything.”

Slicks grinned maniacally. “Are you kidding? This changes EVERYTHING!” He began pacing up and down behind the counter. “I’ve been waiting for this day for years, dude! You KNOW! You’ve had your eyes opened to the truth of other worlds beside our own!”

“And your point is?” Carda shot back, arms folded.

“You, my friend, have just become the luckiest racer in Sun Valley.”

“How’s that?”

“I only provide off-world auto parts to people in the know.”

“Ah. Wait, what?”

“Your car, dude. When you see what we’re going to do to it, it’s gonna blow your mind.”

“Examples, Slicks, examples. I can’t work with infinite variables.”

“How does a set of all-weather tires sound?”

“Mundane at best,” Carda replied, stifling a fake yawn.

Slicks reached under the counter, rummaged around, and pulled out a rolled-up flyer. He unrolled it for Carda and pointed at the tires it advertised. “I’m talking about tires that grip or drift on command. Any surface, any road condition. If you want them to grip the road during a Mount Davis snowstorm, they’ll cling to the asphalt like the snow wasn’t even there. If you want to slide around a corner like a figure skater, they’ll be the best set of blades you’ve ever experienced.”

“Your enthusiasm almost counters my skepticism,” said Carda, examining the flyer.

“Just you wait. Tomorrow you will have the most tricked out ride this side of Alexandria.”

“Did I mention the whole ‘I like stock body parts’ thing?”

“Don’t worry, everything I’m doing is under the hood and out of sight. I’m also hooking you up with a Juice kit.”

“Dude, I hate nitrous, you know that. I’m all about the skill.”

“Trust me, this ain’t nitrous. This is a completely different concoction; more power, less danger. You’ll see.”

Carda wasn’t very confident about this, but he didn’t think talking Slicks out of anything was going to be possible at this point.

“You’re what.”

Sera didn’t even phrase it as a question. Her tone of voice was completely flat.

“I’m going to enter the race in Los Fuegos next week,” Carda repeated. “Slicks’s souping up my car with off-world parts.”

Sera only looked at him, not even bothering to reply. She turned her back on him and stood with her arms crossed, staring across the front lawn of Carda’s parents’ house. Without turning she said, “And where are you getting the money for this suicide stunt?”

Carda shrugged. “Slicks wants half of whatever I win.”

Sera spun around, wings billowing out behind her like a cape. “And what about the hospital bills, Carda? What about when they’re peeling your car and all its new parts off the asphalt?”

“C’mon Sera, don’t be like that…”

“Carda, you’re too important to be risking your life like this!”

Carda looked at her wings, noticing that they had a faint rainbow sheen in the sunlight. “You never protested like this about my other races.”

Sera growled and turned her back again. Her wings brushed Carda’s face. “You weren’t racing those demons in Los Fuegos then.”

“Metaphorical demons or literal ones?”

Sera glanced at him over her shoulder, and he saw her fighting a smile. “You would ask that.”

Carda tugged a wingtip. “Can’t imagine why.”

Sera folded her wings in, and they vanished as they closed. She turned to face Carda and said, “Since you ask, yes, there are demons in Los Fuegos. Some of the drivers there certainly act like the demons who sponsor them on the Other Side. If you do go, I had better go with you. But I can’t protect you every second of the race, and that’s what scares me.”

Carda grinned and leaned against the porch railing. “So I can go?”

Sera sighed. “Yes, yes. Are you taking anybody else?”

“Xironi and Lucas want to come. Lucas especially. He’s never seen a ‘motor vehicle race’, as he puts it.”

Sera nodded. “Good. The more backup you have, the better. And also…” she paused. “I want to see what Slicks puts in your car.”

The race was planned for Friday evening at 6 at the Desertfire Speedway. Half the racers were already there on Thursday night. One of them was Shades.

Shades’s pride had not yet recovered from the beating that Carda had given him, and in front of his buddies, no less. Drawn by the ten thousand dollar prize, Shades had brought his Civic and was having some local mechanics prep it. While it was in the shop, he took the opportunity to walk around the track. It was three miles of twisting, turning road with one long straightaway. He counted eleven turns.

As he strolled back toward the garage, Shades saw a hot rod pull into the parking lot outside. He paused to admire it. While not exactly his field of enthusiasm, he still admired the renovated classic cars. This one was a ‘37 Coupe with a blue and magenta paint job. The man who climbed out was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and wearing sunglasses, even though the sun had set an hour before. He looked around, then sauntered over to Shades.

“Nice car,” said Shades.

“Thanks,” said the stranger. He held out a hand. “Rayn Mistral.”

“Call me Shades,” said Shades.

Rayn pulled off his sunglasses and looked out at the track, now dim blue under the twilight sky. “You going to race tomorrow?”

Shades shrugged and nodded.

Rayn said, “Are you familiar with James Carda?”

Shades looked sharply at Rayn. “Who wants to know?”

Rayn shrugged. “I work for someone who doesn’t want him to win the race tomorrow. In fact, if Carda got hurt, it would be even better.”

Shades studied Rayn. “You work for the mob or something?”

Rayn shook his head. “No, just someone Carda’s antagonized.”

Shades turned and looked at the track, so he wouldn’t have to meet Rayn’s eyes. “What’ll you give me?”

He heard the smile in Rayn’s voice. “I’ll give you this.”

Shades turned. Rayn had pulled a small, flat box out of his pants pocket, and handed it to Shades. Shades opened it cautiously. Inside was a flat metal disk with two lights in the center, one green, one blue. “What’s this?” asked Shades.

“Press the center,” said Rayn.

Shades did so. Instantly he was fifty feet out on the race track, and the wind buffeted his face before dying out. He had…. teleported? He stared at the gizmo in shock, then turned and looked at Rayn. Rayn was grinning.

Shades pressed the button again, and teleported back to Rayn in a gust of air. “Whoa,” was all Shades could say. “Whoa, whoa, whoa.”

“This will win you the race,” said Rayn. “Just mount it somewhere in your car. But you have to take out Carda. Understand?”

Shades was speechless. He only nodded.

As Rayn turned and walked back to his hot rod, Shades found his tongue. “Can I keep this?”

“Only for the race tomorrow,” said Rayn. “After that it will stop working. Good night.” He climbed into his Coupe, revved the engine, and drove off, leaving Shades with his mouth open, clutching the gadget of his dreams.

Friday morning, Carda and the gang caravaned out to Los Fuegos, Carda in his souped up car, Xironi, Sera, Lucas, and Ben (who would not be left behind) in Sera’s white Firebird.

Carda had to watch his speed. The speedometer kept creeping up past 80 without his even realizing it, and he had to ease off the gas. When Slicks had promised a few parts, Carda hadn’t realized what that really entailed. He didn’t recognize the entire dashboard of his own car.

The speedometer was perhaps the most disconcerting dial on the new dash. Whereas the stock gauge had only gone up to 140 miles per hour (and Carda very rarely flirted with triple-digit speeds as it was), it now registered a maximum of 360. The tachometer now measured the engine speed in increments of 5000 revolutions per minute. Buttons had been installed on the steering wheel to allow rapid-fire shifting, eliminating the need to take one hand off the wheel for any reason. In place of a rear view mirror there was now a display, fed by cameras mounted into the back of the car. The view provided by the display was crystal clear and offered twice as much of a view as the mirror had. The stereo had been swapped out for a model that played mp3 files, and the sound system was currently blasting the latest hit from one of Carda’s favorite rock bands, 12 O’Clock North.

And then… there was That Button.

It sat between the air vents on the center console above the stereo. A large, red, rectangular button, with a yellow and black striped “danger” cover over it. The cover was there to prevent the button from being pressed accidentally.

All I need is a flux capacitor and I can travel back in time, Carda had thought after his first view of the car’s interior.

Of course, even after promising “no body upgrades”, Slicks hadn’t been able to resist a minor touch to the exterior: an airfoil “wing” on the lid of the trunk to help the lightweight car stay grounded at high speeds. Carda hadn’t begrudged the change; the wing added a little extra character to the car without making it look like one of those asian rice rockets he always saw in racing magazines.

They pulled into Los Fuegos at noon, and stopped at a fast food joint for lunch. Carda climbed out of his roadster as Sera’s Firebird parked beside it. Sera called out the window, “You were sure flying.”

“Not my fault,” said Carda, holding up both hands. “It kept trying to take off with me in it.”

The group trooped into the joint, ordered their hamburgers, and sat down. Xironi gazed out the window at the casino facades in the distance. “Big on gambling here, aren’t they?”

“That’s all this town exists for,” said Carda. “Also why they have a race track. Ben, no.”

The little dragon kept stealthily slithering out of Xironi’s purse, where she had hidden him, and reaching toward the shiny napkin dispenser. Carda stuffed Ben back into Xironi’s purse and zipped it completely shut. Ben shouted a muffled, indignant, “Shiny!” at him a few times.

Lucas seemed more at home the closer they got to a big city. He stretched in his seat. “Ah, this is more like it. Although you people use more glass and metal than we do. Most of our buildings are stone.”

“What about the gambling?” Sera asked him.

Lucas grinned. “We have tons of that. Seems that’s one vice common to all worlds.”

They wolfed down their hamburgers and drove across Los Fuegos to the Desertfire Speedway on the edge of town. The track itself stretched out into the desert, raised grandstands spaced about it. Sera parked in spectator parking, while Carda drove into the garage and signed himself in. As he stood beside his car, looking at the pimped-out racers, he recognized one of them: Shades’s car. Carda rolled his eyes. Oh boy, not again.

He strolled along, checking out the models, guessing at what might be under their hoods, and greeting the occasional car owner. He didn’t know any of these guys, but everyone was friendly enough. They inquired about his car, and when he pointed to his roadster, they grinned patronizingly. “Hey,” Carda defended, “just because the body’s not tricked out doesn’t mean it can’t race.”

As Carda walked back to the track, another person met him. This man was dressed in a tunic and looked very out of place at a race track. He had black hair streaked with gray, but his face didn’t look much older than twenty. “Hello Carda,” said the newcomer.

Carda eyed him and kept walking. “Yo,” he said, trying to walk past him.

But the stranger fell into step beside him. “The race is rigged.”

Carda looked at him. “What?”

“The race is rigged,” said the stranger. “Melvin Postlethwait accepted a bribe last night to put you out of the race.”

“Postlethwait—you mean Shades? His first name is MELVIN?” Carda guffawed.

The stranger glared at him. “Be serious, Carda! He’s going to try to wreck your car during the race, and he has a four in five chance of succeeding.” The stranger’s eyes unfocused for a second. “A bit less, now that I’ve told you.”

Carda looked hard at the stranger. “Wait a second…” He lowered his voice. “Are you a chronomancer?”

The stranger didn’t answer. He just turned and walked away.

Carda beat it back to the others. He grabbed Xironi and pulled her aside from where Sera was showing Lucas how to work a vending machine.

“Xironi,” Carda whispered, “there’s a chronomancer here, and he just warned me about the race.”

“What?” exclaimed Xironi in a whisper. “Why would a chronomancer be here, on this world?”

“I don’t know,” said Carda. His stomach was staring to churn. He repeated the warning about his chances, and how the stranger said that his chances were better now.

Xironi nodded. “Definitely a chronomancer. They look into time like that and see things change. They get a little crazy sometimes.”

“So what do I do?” whispered Carda.

“You’re a Strider,” said Xironi. “Bend space and beat Shades any way you have to. Nothing he has can compete with that.”

“Isn’t that cheating?” Carda countered skeptically.

“It’s not cheating if everyone else is going to cheat anyway,” Xironi shot back.

Carda shook his head. “You’d think after the last time Shades would have learned his lesson…”

Xironi looked at him sharply. “What ‘last time’?”

Carda relayed the events that had transpired the day before he and Xironi had first met. “If not for my second sight I would have been killed for sure.”

Xironi paused. “Second sight, huh? And you say that when it happens you see purple sparks, like lightning?”

“Yeah, it’s only ever happened a few times, but… Why are you giving me that look?”

Xironi shook her head. “No, that can’t be it. It’s impossible.”

“What? Seriously, what’s wrong?”

“Carda… you know how spatial magic manifests as a green fire?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, temporal magic manifests as purple lightning.”

Carda stared at her. “You’re telling me that I didn’t just see it happen, but that I rewound time? That I can control space AND time?”

“No! That’s just it, it’s impossible! No one person can command the Emerald Flame and the Amethyst Spark together. Unless…”

“Unless what? Xironi, tell me. Please.”

“No, I can’t. I have to do some research before I can be sure. Just focus on the race for now.”

Like that was going to happen with a mystery like this bouncing around in Carda’s head. Xironi walked off towards the stands, leaving him alone with a million questions, none of which had easy answers.

Fortunately (or not), Shades swaggered up, providing an effective distraction. “So, looks like Mr. Roadster wants to try out for the big time!”

Carda merely glared at him.

Shades closed to within three inches of Carda’s face. Carda detected the distinct odor of a chili cheeseburger with a mint gum coverup failing to do its job. “Listen, punk. You’re on MY turf now. If you don’t want to find yourself in intensive care, I suggest you stay at the back of the pack.”

Carda remained impassive. “I know what you’re planning. It won’t work. Just remember what happened the last time you tried to wreck my car. Stay out of my way and I’ll consider your two hundred dollars repaid in full.”

“You don’t know anything, do you?” Shades laughed. “I play to WIN, punk. See you at the finish line… maybe.” He turned and began to walk away.

“I’ll be there waiting for you… Melvin.”

Shades swung around, ready to deck Carda right there. But Carda was no longer standing where he had been two seconds ago. “I suggest you save your energy for the race,” Carda’s voice came from behind him. Shades swung around again and found himself face to face with nothing but thin air. Aggravated and mystified, he stalked off.

From a distance, the chronomancer who had warned Carda earlier watched impassively. “Carda’s chances: forty percent. I can only hope he realizes his true ability before the race is over…”

Six o’ clock. Race time.

Out of a field of twelve competitors, Carda’s starting position found him in the middle of the pack, on the outside of two staggered lanes. He glanced over at the stands and caught worried glances on the faces of Sera and Xironi. Okay, Carda, focus. You need to win this, and you need to not get killed. Not necessarily in that order. He looked at Shades’s car, sitting smugly at the front of the pack. Carda suspected foul play, although if Shades was supposed to take him out, he’d have to sacrifice his first place position to do it.

Then again, if Carda managed to outpace everyone else, it wouldn’t be long before they faced off. Better sooner rather than later, he supposed.

The green flag dropped, and Carda floored the accelerator, nearly pancaking himself against his seat. He was suddenly grateful for the racing harness with which Slicks had replaced his standard seat belt.

Within seconds Carda was jockeying for position with the rest of the drivers, and no one was going to give him an inch. I’m used to one-on-one, but if I’m going to win this I need to change my style, quick! His car handled so differently now. It had so much more power that anything more than a light touch had him overcompensating for balance. His car had always felt like an extension of his own body, but now it felt like the body of a tiger—lean, fast, and strong.

The pack reached the first turn. Carda remembered from the map in the lounge that there was a quarter mile straightaway from the starting line, then six short hairpin turns. There came a long square turn, then the course doubled back and entered a mile and a half straightaway. Then it had a long banked left turn back to the starting line. They’d have to repeat this for five laps.

Carda swung left, then right, then left, feeling the way his car handled and watching the other drivers. The pack was jockeying for the coveted inner lane, close to the edge of the turns, where one could gain extra distance on opponents forced to swing wide. There was a black line on the tarmac marking this lane, left by thousands of other racers as their wheels polished the pavement on either side of it.

Carda saw an opening on the fifth turn and hugged the inside, neatly passing a crush of five other cars. He put his foot down on the dash to the final hairpin, but someone else had the inner lane. Carda hugged their bumper as the road opened out into the longer square turn. At this point the other cars were merely obstacles. Carda didn’t see car models or colors—only fast-moving things in his way that had to be avoided.

He ducked around the car in front and for the first time had an open view of the track. It was brightly lit under floodlights every twenty feet, and the twilight sky looked dim by comparison. Just rounding the next turn was a pair of taillights. Shades? Carda accellerated and felt his car leap with the thrill of the chase. His tires found their place on either side of that guiding black line on the road. As he reached the bend, Carda slammed his wheel right, then left, throwing his Roadster into a drift. It sailed around the turn like a bird on the wing, and Carda hit the gas once he was clear, breaking out of the slide and roaring on.

The car ahead was a little green and white Civic with a two-foot-tall tailfin. Shades’s car, indeed. They were on the straightaway now, so Carda put his foot all the way down. His Roadster snarled and the acceleration hit him in the gut. He shifted into sixth gear. The distance between himself and the car ahead was shrinking rapidly. Shades noticed him and swung over in front of him. Carda let up on the gas and nudged to the right. So did Shades, keeping his bumper in Carda’s face. “Oh, you want to play, huh?” growled Carda. He reached for That Button under its plexiglass shield. But before he could press it, they reached the banked left turn at the end of the straightaway and he had to slow down. He hugged the inside of the turn so tight that his fender nearly brushed the guardrail. Shades rode the inside, too, but not as closely as Carda, and when they flashed across the starting line, Carda edged ahead.

Second lap. Carda kept the lead all the way to the hairpins, but the other racers were close behind, and Shades was determined to reclaim the lead. He grabbed the inside on the third hairpin, beat Carda to the fourth, but Carda took the fifth, and they left the sixth neck and neck. Shades was a good driver. Carda gripped the steering wheel and wondered when the “rigged” portion of the race would come into play.

Up in the stands, Xironi was watching with hands clenched in her lap, Sera was standing up for a better view, and Lucas was leaning forward, hands on knees, neck craned to see the far end of the track. “He’s doing well,” Lucas remarked. “He’s in second and the race is only half over.”

“They haven’t started hitting the nitrous yet,” said Sera, who had been to every one of Carda’s races and knew a thing or two. “They’re saving that for the last lap.”

“Shades is going to cheat somehow,” said Xironi, watching that green and white Civic as it dueled Carda’s red roadster. “He’ll shoot oil out of the back of his car or something, just watch.”

“Worse than that,” said an unfamiliar voice. Xironi turned and saw a man in a tunic sitting in the row behind her. He was watching the race with binoculars. Without removing them from his eyes, he said, “Shades has been granted strider powers for this race.”

“What?” Xironi and Sera exclaimed. “By whom?”

“Take a wild guess,” said the stranger. “Here’s a hint: he’s sitting in the front row.”

Xironi and Sera peered at the heads of the crowd below, and finally spotted Rayn. He also had a pair of binoculars, as well as a bucket of popcorn. He was watching and munching cheerfully. “Oh, that piece of scum—” Xironi began.

Sera shushed her. “We’re not supposed to know anything, remember?”

The racers flashed past the grandstand, which was situated at the starting line, and the crowd cheered. Carda and Shades drove side by side, but as they rounded the bend, Shades pulled ahead. Lap three.

Xironi looked again at the stranger behind them. “Who are you?”

“My friends call me Indal,” he said, still watching through his binoculars.

“Is your last name Be-all?” said Xironi.

Indal didn’t even blink. “My, I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before. No, wait—I have.”

Xironi returned her attention to the track, where Carda, Shades and the rest of the pack were negotiating the hairpins. They flew around the square turn and roared down the straightaway toward the stands. Three of the pack leaders were pulling away from the others, narrowing Shades’ and Carda’s lead. Carda and Shades didn’t notice. Their attention was on their personal dogfight. Carda edged into first as they rounded the banked left turn, and they entered the fourth lap.

“Carda’s odds are good so far,” said Indal. “But that can change at any time. Does he know what the acceleration system in his car does?”

“No,” said Xironi, and Sera looked over her shoulder. “Why, do you?”

Indal shrugged. “You’re going to find out here in a minute.”

Shades pulled ahead of Carda as they left the hairpins, and tapped his brakes. Carda swerved to avoid him, but still bumped Shades’s fender with a bone-jarring jolt. Carda’s speed was cut in half, and he down-shifted as his engine strained. The pack roared around him, and in an instant Carda had dropped from second place to seventh.

“Oh, NOW it’s ON,” Carda growled. As he pulled into the long straight, he flipped the cover up and jammed a finger down on That Button.

“The Juice system has two charges, so use them wisely,” Slicks had said when Carda had retrieved his car from the shop. “You can use it to get out in front, but it won’t help you stay there. You should probably only use the second charge in a case of dire emergency.”

Carda suddenly understood what Slicks had meant. There was no burst of speed, but suddenly the other cars were inching out of his way as if he were pushing them. He floored the gas, and the cars parted around him like water around a boat, clearing an open path to the head of the pack.

“It’s like his car has a repulsion field around it,” Xironi commented as she watched him pull ahead.

“It’s simpler than that,” Lucas replied. “There’s a wedge of air surrounding his car that wasn’t there before. It’s pushing the other vehicles out of his way.”

“How can you tell?”

“Alchemists have a certain attunement to the elements,” Lucas explained. “I can see unnatural changes in things like air and fire.”

“Shades must be wigging out right now,” Sera observed.

“His desperation may be his downfall, or it may be Carda’s. It’s… difficult to tell,” Indal commented.

“Oh great, THAT’S comforting, coming from you,” Xironi snarked.

“We never deal in absolutes, Heartlight, only variables. You should know that much, at least.” Xironi opened her mouth to ask, but Indal replied before she could say anything. “I knew your grandfather.”

Xironi turned her attention back to the race, concern growing by the second.

The Juice in the engine gave out just as Carda had nudged Shades’ car aside. They were once again neck and neck.

A split second later, Shades blinked forward fifty feet, regaining the lead.

“What the—?” Carda yelped.

“What the—?” Xironi yelped at the same time.

“Told you,” Indal replied.

“You don’t have to sound so smug about it.”

“Just keep watching. I think Carda may be able to maintain the upper hand in this duel.”

Carda was indeed getting a better handle on the power of his roadster now, and he confidently surged forward to keep pace with Shades. Shades responded by blinking forward again.

“Now I get it,” Carda muttered. “That’s how you’ve been staying ahead of the pack this entire time.” He poured on more gas and caught up again.

The fifth and final lap started with the pair side by side. After an intense duel through the hairpins, where the two cars traded off the lead innumerable times, they entered the back straightaway.

Carda had an idea. He backed off the accelerator ever so slightly, allowing Shades’s car to creep forward.

“Well, that’s that,” Indal said.

“What? I thought you said Carda could win!” Xironi snapped.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Carda will win the race. But now someone is going to die, unless Carda manages to prevent it. And that’s not likely.”

Sera and Xironi glued their eyes to the track apprehensively.

As Carda followed Shades around the final turn, he floored the accelerator and leaped forward, edging into the lead two hundred feet short of the finish line.

Half a second before Carda won the race, Shades’s car burst into green flames. The crowd gasped.

“The fool doth trust his toys too much, methinks,” Indal mused, finally setting his binoculars down.

As they watched in horror, the flaming car barreled into the far guardrail. A purple spark discharged from Carda’s car to Shades’, just as it exploded.

Sera, Xironi, and Lucas instantly charged forward, leaping over the barricade and onto the track. Weaving their way through the cars on the track, they stopped short of the tragic scene as they spotted Carda, supporting a limping Shades, moving towards them.

“What happened? Are you two okay?” Sera asked, reaching forward to aid them.

“I’m fine,” Shades replied, waving her away. “Better than fine. Heck, I’d probably be dead if this guy hadn’t pulled me out of the oven at the last second there.”

“How did you manage that?” Lucas inquired. “I never even saw you get out of the car.”

Carda shrugged. “I saw his car burst into flames, and I knew I had to do something. It was like everything was happening in slow motion. I’m lucky the car didn’t blow up while I was disengaging his harness. What I want to know is why your car blew up in the first place.”

Shades shook his head. “Man, I don’t know. He told me it would work during the race, but he didn’t say anything about it being booby trapped.”

“Who told you? And what is ‘it’?” Carda wanted to know.

“This guy gave me that gadget, told me to stick it in my car, said it would help me win the race as long as I took you out.”

“Who?” Carda repeated.

“Rayn,” Xironi answered, glancing venomously at the stands.

Rayn, of course, was no longer there.