#WitchcraftWednesday | ✔

Chapter 9: Cars and Cats

Within seconds of leaving the parking lot, Nathan hits the gas and races off, hoping to leave the Bookers in his dust. He sees Eva's Chevrolet in his rearview mirror; it hasn't left the parking lot yet, but the moment Eva notices he's accelerating, she speeds up in response.

Shit. So the Bookers are following him.

Nathan grits his teeth and pushes his car to move as fast as it can go without slamming into the vehicle in front of him, breaking every rule of the road he's always held sacred. Not even a minute has passed and he's already going ten miles over the speed limit, running his first red light ever, chased by the sound of screeching tires and excessive honking.

The Bookers follow in his tracks, also decidedly not giving a shit about traffic laws and road safety. Nathan curses in his head, wishing there was a cliff nearby those bastards can conveniently plummet down from. Would that be too much to ask for?

"What's gotten into you?" Next to him, Jamie tries to text with one hand, but fails at it, the car's movements too shaky and erratic to facilitate the activity. "You were driving like my grandma before, but now you're channeling your inner NASCAR driver. So what gives?"

"My driving's still more civilized than yours," Nathan retorts, because no way can he resist it. He yanks at the steering wheel to avoid hitting a pedestrian crossing the road.

Jamie puts her phone down and starts fiddling with the radio channels until she finds one playing a high-energy song. She must deem this a more appropriate soundtrack for a car chase. "Nice try, dude. Doesn't answer my question at all." She follows Nathan's gaze, his anxious glancing in the rearview mirror. "Wait, are we being followed?"

Nathan wants to deny it, but knows he wouldn't be able to make the lie sound convincing. Not now. "...Yes."

He takes a sudden, sharp left turn, heart in his throat, not even sure if he's still driving in the right direction. He just needs to lose the Bookers. The car's abrupt motion almost slams Jamie into the door, but she manages to prevent a collision with her hands, spilling coffee over her coat in the process. "Damn it, coffee stains."

"Washing machines exist," Nathan helpfully points out, ignoring another red light and taking a right turn this time. To his relief, he doesn't see the blue Chevrolet anymore when he next checks the rearview mirror. Did he shake the Bookers off? A few more quick twists and turns and he'll have lost them for sure. Maybe they already don't see him anymore. Maybe they were forced to stop for a traffic light or got stuck behind an old lady driving at a snail's pace.

Nathan calms down a little, though his sweaty palms still clutch the steering wheel tight and he doesn't dare slow down just yet. At least the Bookers don't know where he's going; he'll take a slight detour before driving to Olivera just in case, but there's no reason to assume they'll look for him there.

"No shit, Sherlock." Jamie scrutinizes her coffee stains, seems to realise she can't clean herself with anything and gives up on the idea entirely. "Just... Look, you've been all closed off and mysterious and I've been trying really hard to respect your space and not stick my nose in your personal affairs. But you were just involved in a bit of a car chase, and I happen to be, you know... in the car with you. So I'm involved now. And maybe that means we need to talk."

Nathan dreads that conversation, though he imagines it was inevitable from the start. Always difficult to let people into your life and expect them to remain ignorant of the giant pile of shit you're in. He doesn't need to like the inevitability, though.

"I... Yeah, I guess we do need to talk."

"Just one thing for now, and be honest. How many red flags should I be expecting?"