A chunk landed on the hood, bounced into the back of the truck. Alex gave a yelp. I assumed he’d been smacked by the block. He started mouthing off at the top of his lungs. “Sons of bitches, stupid witches!” I wanted to laugh, it was his best rhyme yet, but I was too busy focusing on the road as it continued to explode, and I fought to keep the truck from doing a header into one of the magic-made craters.
