Free Torn by Julie Kenner

shrugged. Not really a whole lot we needed to say about that.
    “Ready,” she said, hauling the duffel up onto her shoulder.
    I reached out and took it from her, easily hefting its weight. “I’ve got it.”
    She pressed her lips together, and I saw tears glistening in her eyes. “I know you do.”
    I opened my mouth, wanting to say that I was sorry—sorry for every horrible thing that had happened to her, sorry for failing to protect her, sorry for not being the sister to her that I knew our mom wanted me to be.
    I didn’t say any of that, even though I knew damn well the opportunity might soon be lost, that Johnson might be back any second. Instead, I just smiled, and said, “Come on.”
    With the duffel strapped onto the back of the bike and Rose crammed in behind me, I gunned the engine and took off down the road. Twilight had fallen while we were inside, and the world was painted in shades of gray, apropos of my mood.
    Rose squeezed me tight around the waist but didn’t complain, and I had the feeling she wanted away from that house as much as I did. There are all kinds of demons in the world, and not all of them come from hell. Those just happen to be easier to fight.
    I rolled to a stop at a red light, idly revving the engine in time with my wild thoughts. The light changed, and I kicked the bike into gear, ready to peel out of the neighborhood.
    I didn’t make it.
    Because suddenly this dim, empty street at the edge of the Flats wasn’t so empty anymore. Suddenly, there was someone standing in the middle of the road.
    He was huge—his head shaved bald, his face a mass of strange tattoos through which I could barely make out the cold, hard gleam of his eyes.
    He stood, legs spread and arms flung out wide, and around him I swear the air seemed to ripple.
    Then he reached back and pulled the most big-ass sword I’d ever seen from a scabbard on his back.
    Holy shit. I didn’t know what kind of demon this was, but I wasn’t inclined to hang around and find out, not with Rose on the back of my bike.
    “Go,” she hissed, though I was already turning the handlebars to swing the bike around. “Leave.”
    I realized then that she wasn’t Rose anymore. She was Johnson. And Johnson wanted out of there at least as much as I did.
    I gunned it, the back tire fishtailing on the gritty street. And as I accelerated down the road, willing the bike to build up speed, I heard the beast behind me release a loud, hell-shattering war cry.
    I didn’t turn around, though I wanted to. Wanted to see this thing I was escaping. But I knew that if I did turn, we wouldn’t get out of there. I had to keep going, keep moving, and I was trying—trying so damn hard—to will the bike faster.
    No use.
    We were about a block and a half away when the cry echoed again, this time followed by an odd whoosh and then the sharp clank of metal on metal.
    The sound confused me, and it was only when we were skidding out of control that I realized the source—the warrior demon had heaved that sword, sending it flying down the street to intersect with the back tire of my bike.
    Of course, by the time I realized this, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. The back tire locked up, the bike jerked, and though it all happened so fast that the details are a blur, somehow Rose and I ended up on the side of the road, with the bike on top of us—and our view down the street unimpaired.
    A view that was dominated by that massive warrior demon, marching straight toward us, the lust for the kill shining bright in his eyes.

NINE
    “Get itoff! Get it off!” Rose screamed,evenas I was scrambling to do that very thing. “It’s burning me!”
    Her leg was wedged under the exhaust pipe, and I was trying to move fast, but even über-girl-superchick strength wasn’t instantaneous, and I’d landed at an off angle, meaning I was wasting precious seconds.
    I twisted at the waist, leaving my legs trapped, and closed my hands over the gas tank. With