by Amy Marie
I turn back in the direction of where the fire spirit first appeared.
“Show yourself,” I command with the authority of my power.
“That will not work,” Shkote’Nsi whispers right next to my ear. He reaches around to hold me from behind and place a burning hand around my neck. His grip tightens as he squeezes the breath out of my throat. The glow from my hands fades as my power fizzles. The skin of his hand scorches my neck and throat. The pain is blinding. “I am sorry,” I barely hear him grunt out the whispered apology, and I almost believe he is.
Is he being controlled?
“You… can… fight… her…” I try to push the words out, but his grip tightens, cutting me off.
“I’ve heard you can’t fight fire with fire,” Dansé’s voice surprises me from somewhere beside me. “But let’s try, shall we?”
Just out of the corner of my vision, a sopping wet Dansé holds up Dylan’s element weapon shooter. With the click of the trigger, a flame is lit and the loaded oversized can of pepper spray spurts out and ignites into a blazing stream aimed right at Shkote’Nsi.
The spout from the weapon is enough to stun the fire spirit into releasing his grip on me, but the flame has no effect on him like it did on the destructor.
I jump to Dansé’s side and pull her behind me, backing away from the cursed soul of fire. My raised right hand glows white-hot as he takes a step our way.
“Stop, or I will blast you,” I warn him.
He takes another step forward, despite my warning. I can see the veins popping up all over his face, as if he’s straining internally. I saw Darcy make that face when Lilly forced him to attack me. It only confirms my suspicions.
He’s under Lilly’s control.
“Nora, blast him!” Dansé whispers from behind me.
I hesitate, staring into the eyes of the elemental soul of fire. The expression that Shkote’Nsi returns to me almost pleads along with Dansé’s request, like he wants to be destroyed.
But we need him.
I take a deep breath, reaching into the depth of my core for an alternate power. With all my energy I concentrate on transforming the light inside me into a ball of energy. But instead of the light energy blasting through the target, it’s encircled in a trap.
My fingers bend in a circular shape, cradling empty air. In seconds, the canyon is lit up in blinding white light. There’s a small sphere of light energy burning where the fire soul once stood. Just barely, I can make out the shape of the young man held inside the sphere. If I can just hold on to him, we can find a way to subdue him.
After a few seconds, the sphere explodes.
Dansé and I are thrown back several feet in the blast. Every dried piece of desert plant life within the radius is now burnt to ash. The red canyon wall is singed black from the flare.
My ears ring from the strange detonation. I can barely hear Shkote’Nsi’s words. “You only fuel the fire,” the cursed elemental soul says in his broken English.
“Let’s put that fire out then, shall we?” an Australian accent calls from behind him, and my heart practically jumps from my chest in relief.
Chapter 6
Dylan!
The water from the basin behind me begins to rumble and churn. Funnels of water splash up to extinguish the bonfire. Just as the hiss can be heard from the doused embers, two large streams of water shoot over our heads to crash into the fire soul. Shkote’Nsi’s cursed body is thrown back into the face of the surrounding canyon wall.
In the force of the impact, a large crack vibrates through the stone causing several jagged pieces of rock break free from above and topple onto the area where Shkote’Nsi landed, crushing him.
“No!” I cry, moving toward the avalanche of rock.
Dylan’s arms reach around me from behind, halting me in place.
“I didn’t mean to crush him,” Dylan says, out of breath from his exertion of power.
“He must be cursed, like Darcy. I don’t think the rocks can kill him,” I reply. “But we should get him out of there. If he’s unconscious, we can tie him up,” I point to the pile of stones.
“We need to get out of here!” Dansé interrupts from behind us. She’s huddled over a burned body, face charred beyond recognition.
Behind her, Rafe shakes his head at my questioning look for the two tribesmen. “The men are dead, but the Midewin’s still breathing,” he confirms.
“We have to help her!” Dansé pleads.
“But we need the soul of fire!” I argue as they move to help the scorched medicine woman.
Dylan hesitates, looking back at the pile of boulders.
I latch onto his indecision. “Dylan, he’s the final element. He may be cursed and under Lilly’s control, but we need him!”
Dansé calls out through her tears in anger, pointing down to the Midewin. “She sacrificed her safety to look into the fire for you! You can’t just leave her here to die!”
She’s right.
Shame washes over me.
Not wasting any more time, I rush to the Midewin’s side and hover my hands over her burned flesh. I close my eyes and concentrate on the light inside me. From deep inside, I feel the charge. A spark ignites and radiates through my veins. What can only be described as energy from the core of my neurological system charges from my brain and pulsates down through my limbs to my fingertips. My hands glow warm with the raw energy.
This is what people would consider magic. But my mind’s telling me it’s something else. Part of who I am and part of what made me, buried deep within, connected to my soul.
“Nora, what’re you doing?” Rafe interrupts my concentration.
“Trying to heal some of her burns. The light seemed to help with my wounds when I was recovering, but it’s a slow process,” I admit.
My hands glow over the fatty melted flesh, drying out the Midewin’s wounds as they slowly scab over under the glowing light. She was already unconscious, but her ragged breath seems to ease a little in the process.
With my eyes closed, I hadn’t noticed Dylan slip away until he steps back up to my side. “He’s gone,” is all he says, but I know exactly who he’s talking about.
The fire eluded us.
We’re all quiet on the drive back to the city.
We agreed to make a random 9-1-1 call and let the emergency response team take care of the burnt bodies. We just didn’t have time for a proper burial, and despite Dansé’s protests, we couldn’t afford to be caught in the desert at night.
Dansé sits in the back row of the SUV, cradling the head of the comatose medicine woman. Dylan tried his best to offer his assistance, but the young girl was still in shock and seemed flustered to have him near. She completely avoids eye contact whenever he tries to speak to her. For now, I think she just wants to be left alone.
I’ve done all I can for the Midewin’s wounds, but she remains unconscious. We’re taking her back to the shelter house so Professor Besim can discreetly arrange for professional medical care under careful guard.
“Tell me again, everything that was said before I showed up,” Dylan repeats from the seat behind me, trying to wrap his head around the revelation of the cursed fire soul.
“The Midewin saw the pyramid and the eye,” I go through the events again. “She said we must seek the pyramid and it will lead us to the eye. Then I asked her if it would also lead us to the fire soul, and she told me I must speak to the flames to seek the fire. So, I did,” I shrug.
“And that’s when he showed up?” Dylan asks.
“Not right away. The Midewin let it slip about Dansé’s real name first,” Rafe cuts in.
“That’s not my name,” Dansé mumbles from the back row.
“Regardless,” Rafe continues, “we thought maybe the reason her father changed her name was because he was hiding her from the destructor… but that’s when the real soul of fire showed up.”
“Why would she need to hide her name from the destructor?” asks Dylan.
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br /> “It’s not my name!” Dansé repeats in exasperation.
“The destructors have always hunted souls with potential. If their name fits the bill, they’ll be a threat,” Rafe explains it logically, ignoring the outburst from the back row.
“But we know the old soul of fire is still alive through a curse,” I interject. “So, I suppose her real name doesn’t matter now.”
“Told you it’s not my name,” the last mumble can barely be heard from the back.
“What do we do now? There must be something else we’re missing,” says Dylan.
“We’re supposed to seek the pyramid,” Rafe repeats.
“Wouldn’t it be so nice if she meant the one right there?” Dylan points to the pyramid-shaped hotel we’re passing along the highway on the way to the airport.
We could never be so lucky. There are ancient pyramids all over the world. The search won’t be easy. I study the giant pyramid-shaped Luxor casino, searching for inspiration.
The Midewin’s words echo in my mind: It’s full of light. And then another underground. You must seek the pyramid, and it will lead you to the eye.
How can a pyramid be full of light? Ancient pyramids are made of stone. My eyes go in and out of focus as I stare at the black glass of the Luxor as we drive past.
Glass.
What if the pyramid we seek isn’t made of stone?
Full of light. And then another underground.
An image pops into my mind of a different glass pyramid in a tourist-filled courtyard I’ve only seen in pictures or in movies. I recall a picture of the famous pyramid lit up at night, full of light. Finally, I remember reading an article about the inverted pyramid at one of the museum entrances, the way the pyramid hung from the skylight, it looks like it’s underground.
I inhale sharply in excitement.
“L-loo… L…” I can’t form the words fast enough as I try to tell the others that I‘ve figured out where to go next.
“Nora, slow down,” Rafe says next to me.
I take a deep breath and try again.
“It’s Paris. We need to go to Paris.”
Chapter 7
“The Louvre. The pyramid at the Louvre,” I can’t stop repeating it. Heck, I can’t even believe it. Even after Joe filed the flight plans, first back to Boston and then on to France, I still can’t believe we’re going. I’ve always dreamed of going to Paris, drawn to the city for as long as I can remember.
“How’d you figure it out?” Dylan asks me as we sit together near the front of the plane.
I point to the pyramid-shaped casino from the window as we taxi out to the runway. “You gave me the idea,” I admit.
Now that the sun has set, the Luxor shoots a large beam of light up into the night sky. A beacon in the darkness. I smile at the sight.
“What d’you think we’ll find there?” Dylan asks, grabbing my attention.
“I’m not sure. She said the pyramid would lead us to the eye,” I repeat the message from the fire prophecy.
My gaze drifts back to the Midewin, strapped in place on a makeshift gurney at the back of the cabin, still unconscious from her burns. We had a heck of a time sneaking her onto the plane.
I add her to the endless list of victims that have been hurt or killed at my expense. Not to mention I almost let her slip away without a second thought in my selfish pursuit of the fire soul.
Dansé has set up camp in one of the seats near the back to keep silent guard over her injured tribeswoman. Even in the excitement of the discovery of our next mission, she’s withdrawn herself from the group.
My eyes wander over to Dylan, and I catch him also peeking to the back of the plane with a frown on his face.
“Is something wrong?” I ask him quietly after glancing around to be sure we won’t be overheard. Rafe’s laying in one of the reclined seats nearby, snoozing away with his eye mask and headphones.
“Huh?” Dylan looks up, looking guilty. “Oh, no, I’m fine,” he says, half-heartedly.
“Seems like something’s been bothering you,” I observe.
“It’s nothing, honestly,” Dylan replies. “Just a silly thought.” He waves his hand, but then turns to gaze out the oval window with a creased forehead.
“C’mon, we’ve got a long flight ahead. You can tell me,” I speak in a low voice so Rafe won’t overhear.
Dylan meets my eyes, turns a little red, and then glances back out the window. He takes his time finding the words he wants to share. “What did it feel like when you first saw Darcy?” he whispers, catching me off guard.
“What do you mean?” I ask him.
“When you first saw him. Before you knew who he was, and what he was to you. What did it feel like?” he asks, looking down at his hands.
“Well…” I pause, thinking back. “I first saw him by the river near my apartment in Boston. I had no idea about any of this, and I had only just met Rafe and Uncle Mike.” I mull over the memory for a moment. “I think when I saw him though, part of me knew I had a connection to him, so I was scared more than anything. Everything about him was familiar. When our eyes met, it felt like our souls were reaching out for each other. It was so surreal, I avoided eye contact with him as much as I could at first.”
The corner of Dylan’s mouth moves up for a split second, and then he frowns again. “When I met Lilly, I felt that odd familiarity. She was so mysterious. It attracted me, and I mistook it for a good connection. But I had no idea who she was, or what she was capable of.”
I nod along in understanding, thinking back to when I first saw Marcus Talbot. I remember the same familiar confusion.
“Then when I finally met you, I understood the way the past connects us. Not just the familiar feeling, but a bond of sorts,” Dylan continues to talk, but his hands are fidgety. “But when I saw you and Darcy, and then Joe and Tara, I was really looking forward to finding the soul of fire. I couldn’t wait to see what that would feel like.”
Oh…
“You were looking forward to finding your soul mate?” I ask.
“It kind of seemed like the trend. But, then we find out that it’s this cursed guy! I mean, I know souls are genderless, but… I…” he trails off. “I just don’t understand how this happened!”
“How what happened?” I ask.
“It’s just… I’m not gay! I’ve always been attracted to women! How can a guy be my soul mate?” he shrugs.
So this is what’s been bothering him.
I bite my lip in concentration, trying to find the right words. “Dylan, what do you think a soul mate is?”
“Your other half, the one you were meant to spend your time on this world with,” he’s quick to reply.
“Does that mean it has to be sexual?” I ask.
“Well, I assumed you’re meant to mate! It’s part of the name!” he insists.
I look out the window in thought, trying to come up with a different approach. “You grew up in Australia, right?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
He nods.
“Did you have friends there? Guys that you grew up with, or buddies from school? Friends to confide in, have sleepovers, and get into trouble with?” I ask.
“Yeah, I had a few close mates…” he responds, and then trails off, eyes widening.
“It’s part of the name,” I smile. “I don’t think soul mates have to always be lovers. I think you can love and care about someone in your life and they can be considered a soul mate. A best friend, or a family member? That’s possible isn’t it?” I ask.
“I suppose,” he admits, still unsure.
“When a soul has the potential, I don’t think it matters. Like you said, souls are genderless. Even if it’s not always romantic, or even if it is, love can happen in an infinite amount of ways. Just because it’s a different kind of love, doesn’t mean it’s a lesser kind.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” He nods. “It’s just… not what I expected.”
“Life never is,” I reply w
ith the wisdom of remembering too many. “What did you feel when you saw him?” I ask quietly, referring to the young soul of fire.
“Shock. Confusion. Fear,” Dylan admits. “But more than anything, I didn’t want to have to hurt him,” he adds.
“That’s how I feel about Darcy now. I’m not sure if I’m capable of hurting him. But if the fate of the world is at stake, I suppose I’ll have to.” I swallow a lump in my throat at the idea.
“It’s a feeling of helplessness, knowing they’re not on our side,” he muses.
I nod my head in agreement.
“I might not ever get a chance to just talk to him,” he almost whispers.
“We’ll find a way.” I pat his hand.
“Thanks, Nora,” he says, meeting my eyes. He appears less troubled, but weary.
“Get some rest. I’m going to take a nap myself.” I slide into another seat and put on some headphones as I close my eyes and recline back.
A loud crash jars me back into reality and I look down to see a can of varnish in one hand and a paintbrush in the other. I nearly dropped the can of varnish at the sound, so I set both items down in confusion.
Where am I?
I scan the room and see stacks of beautiful art canvases leaning against the wall in storage, and a few easels lined up for what appears to be an old-fashioned restoration station.
It takes me a second to catch on to the fact that I’m in a dream, though it’s been a while since the reminiscence has tested me.
Another loud noise from the adjoining room pulls my curiosity. The memory carries me into the next room for the source.
Turning the corner, I see a young woman bent over a broken stone jar. The look on her face conveys sheer panic, and her dark curly hair bounces in her frantic effort to pick up the pieces.
She must’ve heard me round the corner because she looks up my way and freezes in horror. “Qui es-tu?” she asks.
I’m surprised by her words.
Is that French?
“Parlez-vous l'anglais?” The response flows easily out of my mouth. Though I don’t recognize the words, somehow, I know I was asking the young woman if she spoke English.