Into the Fire

by Jeaniene Frost

  Two unfamiliar vampires rose above the panicked throngs of people swarming toward what I assumed was an exit at the other side of the club. Their hands were held out, and what looked like a growing web of eerie light grew between them.

  You’ll know them when you see them, Mircea had said about the necromancers. This seemed proof enough, although Mircea’s cryptic comment had probably been an allusion to the tattoos that marked the necromancers with Imhotep’s name. I couldn’t see if these two had them, but I wasn’t going to wait until I did to assume that they were the other necromancers.

  Then three forms barreled into them, causing the necromancers’ web to break while they careened from the impact before smashing into the wall at the other end of the club. Ian, Maximus, and Marty had finally joined in the fight.

  I turned around. “No need for you to tell us anything now—”

  I stopped speaking when I saw that former faint glow in necromancer’s fingers had turned a deep, brilliant blue and spread to her whole hand. Vlad couldn’t see it from his view behind her, and Mencheres was focused on using his power to help people that had been trampled by the desperate escaping patrons. In a flash, I knew what that meant. She shouldn’t have been able to finish her spell without the ability to speak, yet she had.

  “Vlad, watch out!” I shouted, snapping my whip at her.

  It severed her arm above the wrist, but not before she touched her indigo-infused hand to Vlad’s arm. Then her severed hand held on despite the rest of her falling away as Mencheres spun around and violently yanked her back. Horrified, I watched as that blue glow seemed to melt into Vlad’s arm.

  Vlad snatched her severed hand off and flung it aside. Then Mencheres yanked her out of Vlad’s arms and shoved her away before she could touch either of them with her other hand, which had turned bright blue from magic, too.

  “Don’t touch her!” Mencheres said when Vlad surged toward her to grab her again.

  “That’s right,” she hissed. “Or you’ll get another dose of the curse of endless regret.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was immune to this type of magic, so I eyed the necromancer warily as I circled her. I didn’t need to touch her with my hands to take her out. All I needed was to get close enough within a clear space to strike.

  Then a sudden, awful gasping came from Vlad. I glanced at him in time to see him abruptly crumple to the floor. That panicked me into rushing to him instead of cornering the necromancer. Mencheres rushed over, too, and the look on his face was almost as frightening as seeing Vlad gasp as if he were being choked by something that had no form.

  Mencheres looked helpless—and afraid. What kind of spell was this “curse of endless regret”? “What do we do?” I shouted.

  “We can’t help him.” Mencheres’s voice was harsh. “This spell is designed to trap its victim inside their worst memory, and if it takes Vlad to where I think it will, we need to get everyone out of here or we’ll all die.”

  “Can’t.” Vlad managed to speak but his voice was garbled, as if he was being strangled by the spell. “Can’t let her . . . live.”

  “We’ll get her later,” I began.

  “Now!” he roared, his voice agonized. “No . . . matter what!”

  Then his eyes rolled back and he went completely limp. Before I could grab him, he suddenly stood as though yanked upward, and his eyes seemed sightless as he held out his hand. “Give it to me,” he said in a visceral snarl.

  I gaped at him. “Give you what?”

  Mencheres hauled me away before I could reach him, and his rough shake almost rattled my teeth out of my head.

  “You cannot help him now,” he snapped. “But you are the only one who can stop the sorceress without being infected by her spell. Find her and kill her, Leila. Do it now.”

  Every part of me wanted to scream out a refusal. I couldn’t leave Vlad like this, I couldn’t! Yet maybe killing her would end this spell the way killing the earth mage sorcerer had ended the spell that had nearly finished Ian. That had to be it, and a vicious part of me needed revenge for what she’d done to Vlad.

  I picked up her severed hand and took in a big breath. The floating lights I also inhaled caused my glamour to drop like a snake shedding its skin, but now I had her scent.

  “Take care of Vlad,” I said to Mencheres, then spun around and chased after the necromancer.

  Chapter 36

  Mencheres’s power didn’t work to control the necromancer, but he used it to keep the doors of the club closed in an attempt to prevent her from leaving. Even amidst the smoke and scents from the dozens of people that hadn’t evacuated yet, I managed to track her and found that she had made her own exit. The warehouse only had a few windows and they were so high up, none of the humans could reach them. That made it easy for me to find the smashed one that the necromancer had escaped through, and I vaulted after her with single-minded intent.

  You’re dead, bitch! You’re dead.

  Crowds of people were outside the warehouse, some crying, others huddled in shock. I paid them no mind as I chased down the necromancer’s scent trail. It led me through the nearby traffic intersection, and the part of me that wasn’t crazed with the need to kill was relieved that it was still only her scent, which meant she hadn’t grabbed a hostage or two from among the patrons. I was also thanking my lucky stars that the necromancer must not have the ability to fly or she would have done so already, and I couldn’t follow her scent if she flew away.

  Yet a strong winter breeze scattered her scent when I rounded the next corner. I had a moment of panic until I heard tires screeching and the sounds of a crash in the highway up ahead. Something had caused a bunch of cars to suddenly slam on their brakes, and I was betting that it was her.

  I increased my speed as I ran toward the sounds. When I got close, headlights momentarily blinded my vision as one of the cars abruptly spun the wrong way and faced me instead of the flow of traffic. I blamed the winter-slick, icy roads until the car suddenly elevated and came hurtling right at me.

  Holy hell, the bitch was throwing a car at me!

  I dove out of the way just in time. The car landed with a tremendous crash only a few feet away, followed instantly by an explosion that pelted me with flames and flying glass. I only paused to spare a single, pitying glance at the flaming wreckage before I got up and started after the necromancer again. No human could survive that explosion, but I could save Vlad, if I didn’t let her horrifying defensive tactic work by wasting time trying to help people who were already dead.

  By the time I was close enough to see her, she was already hefting up another car to chuck at me. This time, I wasn’t blindsided by shock, so instead of ducking, I ran toward it, aiming for the terrified, screaming driver. I smashed through the windshield right when the car went airborne. In the mere seconds before it hit the ground, I used a spinning maneuver I’d learned from my Olympics tryouts to twist in midair in order to yank the driver out of his seat belt. Our continued backward velocity combined with the car’s forward momentum sent both of us barreling through the back windshield. I twisted around again so my body took the brunt of the impact, yet the driver was still bleeding and hurt when we came out the other side.

  I dropped him as soon as we cleared the wreckage. He might have serious injuries, but he’d live, which was more than I could say for the other poor driver. Now I had to stop this bitch from flinging any more cars with innocent people in them.

  I jumped up and grabbed the nearest streetlight, shoving my right hand into it. That shot electricity into me with a dizzying rush, yet I didn’t pause to savor the sensation. I used the pole as a springboard to launch myself at the necromancer, and torpedoed into her right as she was reaching for a new car to hurl my way.

  We tumbled in a mass of flailing limbs down the embankment next to the highway, and I shot all that excess electricity into her as we rolled. Her other hand had grown back, and she tore into me with agonizing ferocity. Her age meant that she was far stronger t
han me, too. I couldn’t win this fight with fangs or fists and we were too close for me to use my whip, so I took the punishment while gripping her with my right hand and forcing more electricity into her. After a few more painful moments, she stopped attacking me and began to fight to get away instead.

  I didn’t let her go, even when I saw her hands turn blue. She grabbed me, trying to send that awful spell into me while she hissed out curses. I held on, hoping the same electricity-fueled immunity that had previously protected me from Remnants—another manifestation of the dark energies of grave magic—would protect me now. Even if it didn’t, killing her would negate any spell she hexed me with, so all I had to do was not succumb to it before I could finish her.

  Soon, the words of her spell turned into screams as her flesh began to split and blacken, unable to heal fast enough to counter the devastating effects of the unceasing electricity I kept forcing into her. Her grip on me loosened and her eyes grew impossibly wide, then burst open as if they were smashed eggs.

  In another mood, I would have found that disgusting. Instead, I was filled with ruthless exultation as I kept shoving more currents into her. Her face blackened and split, exposing tendons and bone. Then her limbs started bursting open while parts of her caught fire. My hands and clothes also ignited from the contact, yet I still didn’t let go. I kept filling her with currents, vaguely aware that I was smiling with a savageness I hadn’t known I was capable of. You tried to kill Vlad! Die screaming for it, bitch, die!

  With a pop that was sweet, gruesome music to my ears, her whole body burst apart from the overload of currents. I fell forward onto what was left of her torso, watching with dark satisfaction as her skull began rolling down the embankment.

  I wanted to take a second to savor my victory as well as metaphorically catch my breath, but the guys might need help with the other two necromancers. I wasn’t trapped in an awful memory, so I had proved to be immune to the blue-handed spell this necromancer had tried to take me down with. If the other necromancers’ first instinct was to use grave magic, too, then I had the best chance out of everyone of not being affected by it.

  I jumped up, brushing away the charred pieces of the dead necromancer’s body as I began to run back toward the warehouse. When I passed the highway, a quick glance showed that other drivers had stopped to help the injured man from the second wreck, and I noted with a mixture of relief and concern that I heard sirens coming this way. Someone had also called the police. That was good for the driver who needed medical attention, yet it wouldn’t take long for the former patrons of the dance club to hear those sirens and run toward them to tell the authorities about the chaos at the nearby warehouse.

  We really didn’t need police interfering while we tried to take on the other two necromancers. Yet with luck, Vlad was already coming out of the spell now that I’d killed the female necromancer. Hopefully, the other two’s magic wasn’t as potent as hers and the guys had already subdued them. In case they hadn’t, I ran back toward the warehouse as fast as I’d left it.

  As I rounded a corner, I could see a telltale orange glow in the sky over where the warehouse was supposed to be. Why would it be on fire again? Vlad had doused the flames so that none of the people still trapped inside would get hurt—

  My bound around the next corner brought the warehouse into view. The previous crowd of frightened patrons had scattered, leaving only a handful of people that were actively running away. The reason why was obvious. Huge groups of flames shot from the top of the warehouse in vertical streaks, as if fire tornados were dancing along the roof.

  “What’s going on?” I shouted when I saw Mencheres, Ian, Maximus, and Marty about a block away from the warehouse. They had all shed their glamour, so they were easy to pick out.

  “Stay back,” Mencheres called out in reply.

  His hands were outstretched, and as I watched, a metal Dumpster flew down the next street and landed on the side of the warehouse, joining the other various pieces of urban debris that were stuck to the side of it as if welded there by a giant. Then screams and repeated pounding noises reached me even though I was still a street length away.

  “What are you doing? Where’s Vlad?” I said, running over and ignoring Mencheres’s demand to stay back.

  “Inside,” Maximus said, his expression very grim.

  I was aghast. “You left him alone in there with the two necromancers?” The fire couldn’t hurt him, but they could—

  “All of you, leave now,” Mencheres said, stunning me. “I will ensure that the necromancers do not escape.”

  So that’s who was screaming inside. Guess it also explained why Mencheres kept telekinetically transporting more and more heavy objects onto the exterior of the building. He might not be able to use his powers on the necromancers directly, but Mencheres could use it to keep them from tearing a path to freedom through the building’s walls and windows.

  Now this scene made sense. Being semi-fire-resistant due to grave magic was one thing. Surviving a blazing inferno was another. “So when Vlad’s spell broke, he stayed inside to burn one of them to death while you’re making sure that the other doesn’t get out until Vlad nabs him?”

  No one said anything for a loaded moment. Then Marty came over and put his arm around my waist.

  “Kid,” he said, his voice cracking. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but . . .”

  “The spell didn’t break,” Ian supplied bluntly. “And he’s so barmy from being trapped inside his worst memory that he’s burning everything and everyone near him, including us.”

  I was so shocked, I began to argue. “That can’t be. I killed the necromancer who hexed him, so he should be fine now!”

  “He’s not,” Mencheres said with such pity that I felt the cold touch of despair despite the heat pouring off the nearby warehouse. “This necromancer knew the curse of endless regret. It is steeped in grave magic, and grave magic curses do not end with the death of the caster like regular magic or even necromancy. They only end with the destruction of the cursed object.”

  “But the cursed object is Vlad!” I all but shouted.

  Mencheres’s features twisted with grief. “Yes.”

  Chapter 37

  Mencheres could not mean what he seemed to mean. He just couldn’t. And even if he did, I refused to accept it.

  “This is all wrong,” I snapped. “I know Vlad’s worst memory because I saw it the first time I touched him. It’s of him screaming by a river while holding his dead first wife, not of him burning everything down around him!”

  “That might have been his worst memory back when you two met,” Mencheres said in a painfully gentle tone, “but since then, it has been superseded. Before things became too dangerous to stay near him, I watched Vlad repeatedly hold out his hand and say, ‘Give it to me’ before mimicking the appearance of putting an object into a slot. He stares silently for several minutes, then erupts into rage and manifests ever-more-powerful bursts of fire.”

  Why did that sound familiar? When Maximus looked away, his face crumpling, I understood.

  “He’s reliving the memory of when he received Szilagyi’s video of my supposed rape,” I said, anguish gripping me.

  I wanted to kill that bitch a thousand times more for trapping Vlad inside this spell, and I also wanted to weep. I knew the agony Vlad had felt centuries ago when he’d found his wife’s broken body because I’d relieved it when I first touched him with my right hand. To know that his soul had been scarred even deeper by the brutal videos Szilagyi had sent him . . .

  Mencheres let out a sigh that sounded as if it were a choked sob. “The memory keeps repeating, stalling Vlad from accessing his full strength, yet eventually, he will do more than burn down this warehouse. He will destroy this entire block by morning, and left unchecked, the destruction will continue.”

  “He’ll tire out eventually,” I said, grasping at straws. “He has to. He can’t flame everything down forever!”

  Mencheres gav
e me another pitying look. “Yes, but with his strength, by then it will be too late. Such a public display of superhuman power will draw the attention of every Law Guardian. Whether Vlad was magically compelled or not, he will surely be executed for endangering the secrecy of our entire race.”

  “Then you have to stop him!” Rage and grief made my demand a scream. “He’s not coated in grave magic, so do something!”

  “I can’t,” Mencheres said with such fervent frustration; his power flared and the words hit me like a literal slap. “Fire is a natural element. It does not obey my telekinesis any more than air or water do. His powers have also grown to where I cannot smother his flames with exterior objects, either. He would merely melt them down in the same way that he melted his castle the day he received that video.”

  “There must be something else,” I snarled. “Ian,” I said, abruptly turning to him. “What about that reality spell you hit me with the other day? Wouldn’t that work to snap him out of this memory?”

  He didn’t give me a pitying look, which was good because I couldn’t stand one more of those. Yet from his expression, he obviously didn’t think I was very smart.

  “Pitting a mid-level spell against this form of advanced grave magic? A Chihuahua would have better luck surviving a death match against a werewolf.”

  That was a firm no, but damned if I’d give up. I spun back around to Mencheres.

  “Come on, you don’t know any magic that can break this? You’re over four and a half thousand years old, you have to know something that can help!”

  He drew in a breath to reply, and my cry of “Wait!” stopped him. The answer was suddenly so clear, I should have thought of it first thing. “Let me in the warehouse. I can break this.”

  “How?” four voices asked in unison.

  I was already heading over to the warehouse, wincing at the heat that poured off the building. This could work, if I didn’t burn to death before I reached Vlad.