Chapter 9

PRUE

T he night air hits me, and I gulp in a breath. Grayson hasn't slowed. He drags me down a road, we turn and turn again, and finally, I yank my hand out of his and stop.

All the emotions I'm holding back hit me. My face flushes. I'm relieved to see Grayson but pissed that he's keeping key information from me. I'm infuriated that I have no idea what's going on or why we crashed. Not to mention I'm concerned that Grayson looks like he's going to pass out any second now.

"Grayson, stop!," I yell, and he catches on that he's ahead of me. "What the hell happened, and where were you? And what went wrong with that time jump? And who the hell are they?" I gesture with my head behind me in the general direction of the bar.

Grayson deflates, and he leans against a wall, rubbing one hand over his face then it drops cupping his injured side.

"How hurt are you?" I ask and close the distance between us.

He doesn't move or speak, but I shove the anger down and opt to lift his jacket instead of killing him for his silence.

"Shit." I inhale sharply. His shirt's soaked through with blood.

"Prudence, I'll answer all your questions, but we need to get out of here."

"Grayson, we need to deal with this." I gesture at his wound in case he wasn't clear on his order of priorities.

"Emmett will," he says as if I should know that.

"Who the hell is Emmett?" I say loudly and throw my hands up.

"We were supposed to time jump and land at his house."

"Okay?" I remark, frustrated when his reply didn't actually answer my question. I'm about to point that out when he slouches farther against the wall—he's halfway down it now. "Grayson, are you about to pass out?"

"No, but soon." It's probably the most honest thing he's ever said to me.

"Fuck. Fine." I push his jacket aside. I have to slow his bleeding. I find my backpack and pull out my toiletry bag I shoved in there. "Can you lift up your arm?"

He nods and gingerly does as asked, enough for me to lift his shirt up. His chiseled side is covered in dried blood. I press cotton wool to his wound and apply pressure. He hisses, and I wince for him. When he lowers his arm, I pick his bag up from the floor. He gestures to take it from me, but I shake my head. I need him to focus all his energy on staying upright and not passing out.

"How do we get to Emmett?" I try to ask calmly, and subtly wipe off the blood on my fingers with the side of my jeans.

"I don't have an answer for you." Grayson says to me through rugged breaths.

I glance around me; the street's dark, it's eerily silent again, and the answer is obvious to me. "Why don't we time jump to him?" I ask, that should have been the obvious solution, right?

"I have no energy left to jump for us and you have no idea how to do it."

As much as his words irritate me, there's truth behind them. Other than losing control and causing things to happen, I don't know how to tap into my magic. I begin to pace and slowly a plan starts to formulate, we can't walk , and no one here is going to help us.

"Do you at least know how to get to wherever Emmett is?"

Grayson nods, and once again doesn't give any information away. I really need to talk to him about his lack of communication skills. My gaze falls on the end of the alley where there's a little silver car parked.

"Right, well, let's go." I don't wait for him to reply or follow. I head toward the car, going with my crazy plan before I can overthink myself out of it.

The car's small and inconspicuous, and I focus all of my attention on it. There's nothing else in the world that matters in this moment other than this machine on four wheels that will get us out of here.

I check my surroundings, the only person near me is Grayson, he hobbles a few steps forward. I tentatively reach for the handle, but I hesitate above it. Was I really going to do this? He grunts from behind me, and I exhale, dropping my hand to the handle and pulling. It unlocks. I yank the door open and glance inside, not sure exactly how I'm going to start it.

He's now hovering in front of the open door, staring at me with a shocked-fish-out-of-water-I-still-might-die expression.

I search the console to the left hoping to find the car key. Please let the key be in here. My energy hums through the car and a silver stream coils through it. My eye catches on a button. This car has start - stop functionality, which means if the key's near it will start.

I place my foot on what I hope is the brake pedal of this car. If strawberry tastes like orange here, who knows how cars operate. Foot firm on the brake, I hover my finger then press the button. I shut my eyes in anticipation. Whoosh, the car starts. I grin. Thankful that technology on this earth aligns with my tech. I wonder if I could jump to a different time in history here. Would time streams allow me to cross dimensions? Can I only fix what's happening in the current time playing out?

I sit back in the seat and glance over at Grayson. I want to ask him all of these questions, but first, I needed to get us out of here.

"Get in," I command.

He raises his eyebrows but doesn't fight me, instead he walks around the front of the car, and yanks open the passenger side door and slides in next to me with a huff.

"What are you doing?" he snaps.

"Getting us to your friend without killing you or myself."

He settles into the seat, his head resting against it, his hand clutching his side relaxes, and he's taking deep, heavy breaths.

"You're stealing a car." His sky - blue eyes catch mine.

"Sorry, are you worried about ethics?" I ask in disbelief and scrunch my face at him.

"I always worry about ethics." His reply rolls off his tongue and he gives me a small nod.

"Tell me, Grayson, how did you get those clothes and money when you landed in Haddlebrooke?"

When he stays silent, I know I have him.

"That was petty theft." Grayson shoots back at me.

"Well, this is necessary theft." I say in response.

He opens his mouth to argue with me again, but I shake my head and pull the car out.

"We will make sure the car finds its way back here. Now which way do I go?" I have just badly justified stealing a car, apparently when I time jumped, I left my morals on my earth.

He points in a general direction, and I steer us toward it.

"Who were those people?" I ask after some time passes.

He closes his eyes, but he isn't sleeping. His forehead is scrunched as if he's trying to ease his pain and not sleep peacefully.

"It's a long story—"

"We have time, Grayson."

He groans at me, and I want to swat at his arm for it, but I keep both hands on the steering wheel, clenching it until my knuckles whiten.

"I know, and I'll tell you everything after we find Emmett." He gestures to his side. "The short story though, Prue, is those are the guys who destroyed my world and want you gone."

"Oh, fantastic." I can't help my sarcasm.

Nothing to really worry about then, just me casually eating pie with the crazy faction. My stomach plummets. I want to throw up again. Everything's wildly out of control and I'm some piece floating between it all, waiting for someone to point me in the right direction. Speaking of direction …

"Do I go left or right?" I ask Grayson at a T-junction.

"Left," he says and shifts to look over at me. "Follow the signs for the town Pinkhurst. Once there, we're going to need to find a sex club."

Arch villains and sex clubs, exactly how a girl like me wants to spend my night.

Grayson

I shift, and so do my broken ribs with the movement. The pain's sharp. Sweat drips down my neck and back. I'm lightheaded and fighting off the need to close my eyes, but I can't pass out. That has to go onto the back burner, because what we really need to do is find Emmett.

If Marissa and Cole are already here, then we have less time than we thought to course correct the time streams. I glance at Prue. Her red-brown hair is sticking to her forehead, she has a death grip on the steering wheel, and she's chewing on her bottom lip, exactly where that distinct freckle is. She's anxious and pissed off, and it isn't a good combination.

She must have a million questions, and I'm pretty sure if I wasn't sitting here bleeding, she'd be firing them at me. Or she would be throwing some physical objects at me, I glance at her again. She looks like the type of girl to aim a stapler at my head if it's warranted.

I guess, at this stage, she has every right to lose her shit. I haven't told her half of what she needs to know. More sweat pools, and this time, it's not because of the pain.

She glances at me, and her light green gaze takes me in. She's beautiful, dangerously powerful, and doesn't realize any of it. I turn away from her to the changing scenery. We're heading into a different part of town; the buildings are taller and closer together.

There aren't as many trees, and a low light casts all of it an oddly burnt orange glow. I hate this part of town. It's dreary, and a stark contrast from the normally vibrant landscape this earth offers.

"It's a right turn there." I point at an upcoming road.

"How much farther?" she asks me, and I can hear the nervous tension in her voice.

"A couple of minutes." My words are clipped, the constant pain getting to me. "Listen, Prue," I use the preferred version of her name and shift my body towards her, trying to hide the flinch it invokes. "In case I pass out, we're going to the club called Under the Drapes. Emmett should be there…He's expecting us. Leave me in the car if I pass out, and go in alone."

"Grayson," she focuses on me, taking her eyes off of the road. "I'm never going to be able to carry you. Of course, I'll leave you in the car."

"Are you saying I'm heavy?" I ask, finding her response amusing.

"Yes. And passed out, you'd be dead weight." She replies, while nodding her head at me and giving me the faintest of smiles.

"Flattery like that won't get you into my pants." My words are lighthearted but I try to make my voice sound serious.

"I wasn't looking to get into your pants." She shoots back without a moment's hesitation.

"We should change that, Prudence," I tease.

The banter's provided a momentary breather from the pain, a second for my brain to focus on something other than my ribs. But it doesn't last. She starts to slow down. The club's up ahead, and the sign for it is in the same burnt orange that seems to coat everything in this part of town.

I hate that Emmett likes to go here. Prue pulls into a parking spot a few meters from the club. The atmosphere around us shifts, becoming sticky.

"Can you walk?" Her words are clipped, and she flips down the visor of the car, checking herself out. She scowls. "Grayson?"

I realize I haven't bothered to respond. My brain only wants to process what she's doing and not what I should be doing.

"Prue, this place…" I hesitate when no words to describe it come to mind. "Get me to Emmett and make him get us out of there."