Bad To The Bone

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 *** I hope you'll indulge me just a bit by waiting to play the video until I que it further into the chapter. Don't worry, it'll be worth the wait. I promise! ***

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Chapter 17

Letting my senses expand, I attempted to re-establish the strange mental connection I'd shared with Sebastian earlier, to no avail. Either my newly discovered telepathic abilities were on the fritz, or Sebastian was just too far away. And the fact that I was trying to call someone without actually using a phone while standing on the grounds of an insane asylum, didn't make me feel like a crazy person one little bit.

Okay, maybe it did...but only just a little.

Part of me felt that Sebastian had already fled the area for reasons I didn't quite understand. But another part of me, the really, really stubborn part had to be 100% sure, so I walked around the entire hospital grounds, both inside and out, repeatedly calling his name. Sebastian wasn't kidding when he said the place was huge. Continuously expanding over the years, the Kalamazoo Psychiatric Hospital stretched an imposing full mile along Oakland Drive.

I hadn't officially given up hope of locating Sebastian until I made it back to a crowded parking lot marked Employee's Only, near where I'd first started my search. More than a little irritated, not to mention freezing my ass off in the dark, I knew I couldn't afford to waste anymore time searching for him. Besides, if I had any hope at all of saving the planet I needed to stop Serenity from unleashing hell on earth. But before I could do that I had to find her.

So far I sucked at finding people.

Right then it became crystal clear that in order to find a witch, I needed the help of a witch. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Unfortunately for me, since I didn't know any other witches besides Serenity, I decided to make a trip to the Kalamazoo Public Library in order to do the one thing I did know how to do. Google local witches.

Once again I needed to steal a ride. Except, this time, instead of picking the fastest car in the parking lot, I picked the car that killed the competition. Like, literally. A 1958 Plymouth Fury. Painted in vibrant Hot Rod red and cream, she was parked right underneath a security lamp that acted more like a spot light. The buzz of the bright white halogen bulbs showed off every proud detail of a vintage car expertly restored to her former glory. In typical 1950's styling, she sported asleek, yetrounded chrome-laden body -- complete with sharply peaked tail fins, an elegant Cadillac-like logo, and thick striped white-wall tires.

*** QUE MUSIC ***

The Fury wasn't just a bad ass car. She was bad to the bone.

There was very little doubt in my mind that this car would demand complete and unquestioned devotion by its driver. And I was just the one to give it to her. Because, when it came right down to it, we were both evil little bitches.

With my eyes locked directly on the expansive six-foot hood, I concentrated on raising a curl of power that burned along my skin as it washed over me. When it felt like I couldn't hold on even a second longer, I shot a blazing current of power and zapped the engine.

At first nothing happened. At least, not right away.

The energy seemed to bounce off the Fury and hit all of the cars parked in the same row. One after another, over twenty engines roared to lifelike some kind of absurd domino effect. Just not the one I wanted. Annoyed, I raised my arms and prepared to dial up the juice. But before I had a chance, the Fury's engine suddenly decided to turn over all by itself. With the powerful motor rumbling deep and low in idle, it felt like I'd woken a sleeping dragon. In a way, I had. Like the car straight out of the movie "Christine," the Fury had a mind of its own. And a devilishly bad attitude. 

Grinning ear to ear, I hopped in the drivers seat and tore out of the employee parking lot -- wheels spinning wildly out of control and fish-tailing it like something possessed as I hummed the song "Bad To The Bone" on my way to the library.

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