pressed close to me again. “Can I press the button?” she asked in her smoky, breathless voice. Our noses touched. There was a yellow tinge to her jade eyes.
“Of course.” Despite myself, I smiled at her enthusiasm.
I’d regret it later when my brother found out, but it wasn’t every day I got to blow a multi-million dollar truck to smithereens.
~~*~~
Before I could wire explosives to the Red Beast, I needed an idea of what I had to work with—and how far I needed to get away from ground zero. I didn’t like pretending I was a qualified bomb technician, but I couldn’t think of another way of preventing the munitions from falling into the wrong hands. Blowing them to bits had the added benefit of making sure the Inquisition couldn’t use them either. I wasn’t going to lose sleep over that.
“What are you doing?” the Fenerec asked, hovering at the downed tailgate as I rummaged through the Red Beast’s covered bed in the glow of the truck’s internal lighting system. The crate containing most of the explosives was buried beneath a gun rack, which I had to unbolt from the truck’s frame.
At least the Inquisition didn’t make it easy to get to the truly dangerous stuff, including the warhead hidden in a compartment somewhere beneath my feet.
“I’m about to find out what types of explosives I have to work with. I want to make certain I have enough C4 or ANFO to get the job done. I’d rather not use too much, as I’d like to avoid flattening the entire forest. This truck was built strong. It’s my brother’s conceit. He dubbed it the Red Beast. When he first got it, it wasn’t red.” I shook my head, trying to imagine how my brother had gotten the Inquisition to repaint the monstrosity in such a vibrant shade when the vehicle had started its life with a far more respectable camouflage motif.
I don’t know why he had the thing built, but it was the demented lovechild of a military and a civilian truck. It was yet another part of my twin’s life I had missed thanks to the Inquisition’s insistence I might pollute my brother’s purity. Magic didn’t work that way, and they should have known better. If I were a Fenerec, and he agreed, maybe I could have done something, but I was a witch. Exposure to a witch didn’t convert someone into a supernatural. For all we were twins, my magic had changed me.
If it hadn’t, I would be six inches shorter and buying suits would be a lot easier. The Inquisition had been hopeful with us; if magic was a genetic trait, they should have been able to find out by researching how my brother and I differed in our DNA.
We were true identical twins, and I delighted in having thwarted their efforts.
“Why can’t we just leave the truck here?” My audience of one crossed her arms over her chest. I paused to glance at her. She had, much to my relief, put on my jacket, which kept her covered—mostly.
I loosened the rack’s final bolt. The whole thing weighed, guns included, at least two hundred pounds. I unloaded the weapons before shoving the emptied frame to the side. Three more bolts and a lock barred me from accessing the explosives. I wondered how much it had cost to have the lock designed to match the Red Beast’s ignition key. “If Normals killed my team like you say, I really don’t want them getting their hands on this stuff.”
Once again, I was aware of the missile beneath me, which was designed to flatten an entire building. To make matters worse, everything needed to launch it was in the truck, assuming the thief had a little bit of knowledge and some time.
“They already have explosives and guns,” she replied bitterly. “What’s a few more?”
I shook my head. “Let’s just say there’s enough guns and explosives in here to easily take out a city block, ma’am. I can’t risk it. I won’t. You know what the difference between the Inquisition and terrorists are?”
“And what difference would that be?”
I turned to meet her
“Of course.” Despite myself, I smiled at her enthusiasm.
I’d regret it later when my brother found out, but it wasn’t every day I got to blow a multi-million dollar truck to smithereens.
~~*~~
Before I could wire explosives to the Red Beast, I needed an idea of what I had to work with—and how far I needed to get away from ground zero. I didn’t like pretending I was a qualified bomb technician, but I couldn’t think of another way of preventing the munitions from falling into the wrong hands. Blowing them to bits had the added benefit of making sure the Inquisition couldn’t use them either. I wasn’t going to lose sleep over that.
“What are you doing?” the Fenerec asked, hovering at the downed tailgate as I rummaged through the Red Beast’s covered bed in the glow of the truck’s internal lighting system. The crate containing most of the explosives was buried beneath a gun rack, which I had to unbolt from the truck’s frame.
At least the Inquisition didn’t make it easy to get to the truly dangerous stuff, including the warhead hidden in a compartment somewhere beneath my feet.
“I’m about to find out what types of explosives I have to work with. I want to make certain I have enough C4 or ANFO to get the job done. I’d rather not use too much, as I’d like to avoid flattening the entire forest. This truck was built strong. It’s my brother’s conceit. He dubbed it the Red Beast. When he first got it, it wasn’t red.” I shook my head, trying to imagine how my brother had gotten the Inquisition to repaint the monstrosity in such a vibrant shade when the vehicle had started its life with a far more respectable camouflage motif.
I don’t know why he had the thing built, but it was the demented lovechild of a military and a civilian truck. It was yet another part of my twin’s life I had missed thanks to the Inquisition’s insistence I might pollute my brother’s purity. Magic didn’t work that way, and they should have known better. If I were a Fenerec, and he agreed, maybe I could have done something, but I was a witch. Exposure to a witch didn’t convert someone into a supernatural. For all we were twins, my magic had changed me.
If it hadn’t, I would be six inches shorter and buying suits would be a lot easier. The Inquisition had been hopeful with us; if magic was a genetic trait, they should have been able to find out by researching how my brother and I differed in our DNA.
We were true identical twins, and I delighted in having thwarted their efforts.
“Why can’t we just leave the truck here?” My audience of one crossed her arms over her chest. I paused to glance at her. She had, much to my relief, put on my jacket, which kept her covered—mostly.
I loosened the rack’s final bolt. The whole thing weighed, guns included, at least two hundred pounds. I unloaded the weapons before shoving the emptied frame to the side. Three more bolts and a lock barred me from accessing the explosives. I wondered how much it had cost to have the lock designed to match the Red Beast’s ignition key. “If Normals killed my team like you say, I really don’t want them getting their hands on this stuff.”
Once again, I was aware of the missile beneath me, which was designed to flatten an entire building. To make matters worse, everything needed to launch it was in the truck, assuming the thief had a little bit of knowledge and some time.
“They already have explosives and guns,” she replied bitterly. “What’s a few more?”
I shook my head. “Let’s just say there’s enough guns and explosives in here to easily take out a city block, ma’am. I can’t risk it. I won’t. You know what the difference between the Inquisition and terrorists are?”
“And what difference would that be?”
I turned to meet her
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