Waltz into Fire

by L. J. Garland

  He stared, transfixed. “Fallon?”

  “Go. Please.” Her calm voice contradicted her feral expression. “Get Johnny out of there.”

  He released her, and she stepped back. A crimson drop trickled over her chin, and she swiped it away with the back of her hand.

  Without waiting for his answer, she arced her hands out to her sides, and two immense orbs erupted into life above her palms. She pirouetted toward the demon that held claim to Zane’s soul and flung first one fireball and then the other. Before Haileon could react, she rocketed two more at him, both slamming home.

  Zane sprinted to the restaurant door. Behind him, deep laughter rumbled through the air, the sound thrumming over him with a thick malevolence that nearly stole his nerve. He peered over his shoulder, catching sight of the beast preparing to retaliate.

  Zane yanked the restaurant door open, and a wave of heat rolled over him, almost pitching him to the ground. He gritted his teeth against the scorching air and, crouching over, took a breath before dashing into the flaming dining area. The sooner he pulled Johnny from the building, the sooner he could help Fallon. He prayed he wouldn’t be too late.

  Eyes burning, he shuffled past tables and chairs, the smoke pressing down from the ceiling. “Johnny!”

  He attempted to take shallow breaths, but coughs racked his body. Pulling the neck of his T-shirt over his nose and mouth, he tried to locate the kitchen doorway amid the tears blurring his vision. Damn, how does Fallon do this? Yeah, she had gear, but still he’d had no idea how disorienting a fire could be.

  A loud groan reached his ears, and he paused. Easing forward, he found the kitchen door and pushed on it, but it didn’t open. He tried again, but the damn thing wouldn’t budge.

  Another loud moan compelled him to follow the wall to the serving window. “Johnny!”

  Grabbing a chair, he stepped up and wriggled through the opening, tumbling to the tiled floor on the opposite side. He rolled to his knees. Scanning the room, he spotted the fry cook lying on the floor, pinned beneath a flaming ceiling joist. Zane scrambled toward him.

  As he rounded the end of the prep table, he glanced up at the wall. The word REDS was scrawled in bold red letters across the smoke-stained sheetrock. Zane frowned. Had Johnny left that as a message of some sort?

  “Zane.”

  The fry cook’s raspy pant snagged his attention. He hurried to his side.

  “I’m here.” He laid his hand on the man’s shoulder, taking in the triple-wide, wooden beam that lay across his midsection, trapping him. Damn, this thing is huge. He would need something to pry it off him. Glancing around, he spied a coat rack against the far wall.

  With another round of coughs rattling though him, he rushed to the rack, grabbing it to drag back to Johnny.

  “Shit!” He dropped the scalding wrought iron pole, and it clattered to the floor. Snatching a pair of oven gloves from the counter, he swiped the tears leaking from his eyes and then seized the rack again.

  When he reached Johnny’s side, he dropped to one knee. “Okay, I’m going to try to lift this off you.”

  The man blinked up at him and nodded.

  “You slide out. Can you do that?”

  “Think so.”

  Zane wedged the bar beneath the beam and edged it upward, but another string of coughs shuddered through him, stealing his strength. His throat scorched and raw, he swallowed hard in an effort to soothe it.

  Johnny groaned, his face a mask of pain.

  Again, Zane shoved the bar, lifting the wood upward. When the fry cook at last pulled himself free, Zane lowered the beam, relief coursing through him. Yanking the neck of his T-shirt back over his mouth and nose, he rushed to the man’s side.

  “Can you walk?”

  Johnny shook his head. “Leg.”

  Crack.

  Zane’s gaze rolled toward the ceiling. A deep fissure lined the sheetrock, and the lights hung at an odd angle. The whole thing was about to crash down on them. Discarding the oven mitts, he took the man’s arm and tugged him to his feet.

  “Oh, God!”

  Zane forced himself to ignore Johnny’s tortured cry and lifted him over his shoulder to carry him outside. The effort brought more coughs ripping through his lungs. He staggered under the weight he carried, and his vision darkened. Oh, hell, no. Not passing out here. Outside.

  Hunched over, with the fry cook riding his back, he shuffled to the back door. Grabbing the knob, he pulled only to meet resistance. Locked. He squeezed his eyes closed, ridding them of the tears, and looked again. He grasped the metal bar then flicked it to the side and opened the door.

  Smoke and heat rushed from behind him, shoving him through the opening. Zane staggered out into the morning light. Shuffling along the rear of the building, he rounded the corner and managed another two-dozen steps before crashing to his knees in the grass. Johnny moaned with the abrupt movement, and Zane eased him to the ground.

  From the restaurant parking lot, the sounds of battle rang through the sky. Haileon’s anger roared in a thunderous boom followed by the sharp, tinny zings of Fallon’s fireballs slicing through the air. She wailed while the beast laughed, and Zane’s gut clenched in fear.

  Amid coughing jags, he forced himself to assess the fry cook’s condition. He needed to check the damage the beam had inflicted. Pausing, he leaned to the side to hawk a thick wad of black-laced phlegm into the grass. He sucked in a fresh breath then released two buttons on Johnny’s shirt before the man grabbed his wrist.

  “Fallon’s in trouble,” Johnny wheezed.

  Zane met his gaze. “But I have to see—”

  Johnny shoved his hand aside. “What the hell’s going on?”

  He grimaced. At this point, the truth would be the better choice. “All hell’s breaking loose.”

  “Sounds like it.” He turned his head toward the noise emanating from the parking lot. “Go help her.”

  He knew the man thought of Fallon as a daughter, and he’d seen the way she looked at him on more than one occasion. Johnny had been the closest thing to a father since her own had died.

  “I love her,” Zane admitted.

  “I know.” He gave a slight nod. “Now, go save her, son.”

  Shoving to his feet, he raced toward the battle. But as he rounded the front corner of the building, he skidded to a stop. At the far end of the parking lot, Haileon threw his head back and roared. Several of his metallic scales were missing, and he seemed damned pissed about it. Pride bloomed in Zane’s chest. Fallon had been kicking ass.

  A spark of light caught his attention, and his gaze landed on the woman he cherished. His heart stuttered, his breath jammed in his throat. Oh, hell.

  Electricity climbed up her legs, jagged vines of blinding light twisting around her slender calves and clawing at her thighs. She reached toward the soft-hued heavens, her hair dancing along an unseen current. From nowhere, liquid fire shot toward her hands, platinum arrows raining from above to spike her fingertips. She quivered as the brilliance invaded her body.

  Gathering his wits, Zane dashed toward her, but a sudden electric fork jabbed the ground in front of him. He tumbled to the side. Rolling to his knees, he stared up at her. Had she done that as a warning…or did she have control at all?

  “Fallon!”

  Her gaze moved in his direction. A hint of a smile met her lips. But the mix of fear and concentration churning in her eyes worried him. He pushed to his feet only to cringe in pain. Jerking his T-shirt sleeve aside, he inhaled the scent of burning flesh. He slapped his hand over the intensifying flare and rounded on Haileon.

  The beast grinned. Pointing at Zane, he gestured for him to approach. With each curl of the demon’s taloned finger, Zane stumbled across the parking lot. He dug his heels into the ground, stiffened his knees, but still Haileon pulled him closer.

  Lightning flashed past him and slammed into the beast. With a roar, Haileon shifted his focus to Fallon. Zane fell to the ground.

  The d
emon flicked his wrist, and the air shimmered with a wave of energy that rolled in her direction. Twisting, Zane watched the invisible attack hurtle across the parking lot.

  She narrowed her eyes as though perceiving the assault and leapt, somersaulted, and landed crouched on her feet. Damn, when did she learn to do that?

  Stepping forward, Fallon turned in a graceful spin while fresh ribbons of lightning twirled around her body. When she ended the pirouette, she thrust her hands out and released a volley of molten arrows at Haileon.

  With a growl, the beast deflected her attack, the majority of the liquid spears lancing off his metallic scales. Zane looked at Fallon, noticed her rapid panting, the sweat that drenched her shirt. She lifted her arms again, calling more energy from the sky. Liquid light shot down, enveloped her, and she shook with the immersion of power.

  Fear squeezed Zane’s chest. He knew with dreaded certainty she wouldn’t stop until she either defeated Haileon or died trying. But from her jerky movements and tight grimace, he wasn’t sure how much longer she could fight. She needed his help.

  His gaze shot to the hulking beast that prepared for a counterattack. Fallon needed a distraction.

  Struggling to his feet, he sprinted toward Haileon. A few feet away, he leapt into the air, hurling himself at the beast. He slammed into the metallic hide, his fingers seeking purchase but receiving only sharp slices from the razor-honed scales. Bright crimson trails of his own blood trickled down the demon’s armor as he slid toward the ground.

  Massive arms enveloped Zane. Haileon’s bass chuckle rumbled through him. His heart banged his sternum with fear. This was it. The bastard would squeeze him until he either bled out from all the cuts or he popped like a grape.

  From beyond the beast’s embrace, Fallon’s tortured wail met his ears. Shit!

  Zane fought, twisting against the viselike grasp, and reached up, intent on clawing face and eyes. But instead of the intended soft targets, he discovered an opening in the breastplate where one of the scales had been blown off during battle.

  “Go back to Hell, asshole.” Zane smirked and jammed his fingers through the gap.

  Haileon jolted. Pain shot up Zane’s arm, but the bastard’s reaction urged him to drive deeper. Clawing with his fingertips, his hand hot with thick black slime, he pierced a rigid membrane beneath the armor. A tendril of smoke curled from the hole, and three glittering pinpoints danced into the air.

  Zane stared. What the hell?

  Haileon bellowed and flung Zane away. Slapping his meaty hand over the hole in his breastplate, the beast glared at him. “You will pay, Zane West. For all eternity.”

  Zane stared up in defiance. “Fuc—”

  Lightning shot through the air and slammed into Haileon. An electric cage of energy danced in bright sparks over his metallic scales. Throwing his head back, he howled his rage while the satanic symbols etched on his skin burned bright. A moment later, the demon burst into a whiff of smoke and ashes.

  Gone. But for how long? Zane glanced at his biceps, Zane frowned at the intertwined H and three tattoo still marking his skin. He wasn’t free. Never had been. And only a handful of days remained before the bastard came to collect his soul.

  The distinct wail of sirens sounded in the distance. Help was on the way. Getting to his feet, he stumbled across the parking lot to where Fallon sat on the ground, her shoulders hunched, her long black hair veiling her face.

  “Fallon?”

  She lifted her head. Dark circles ringed her eyes, her skin gray and peppered with sweat. She met his gaze with one of exhaustion. “I’m fine. You?”

  “I’m here.”

  Her gaze flicked to the burning restaurant. “Johnny?”

  He wiped his bloody wounds on his T-shirt and offered her his hand. “I’ll take you to him.”

  Together, they shuffled to where the fry cook lay resting in the grass.

  “Hey, there’s my girl,” he wheezed.

  Kneeling next to him, Fallon smiled and grasped Johnny’s hand. She pressed her lips to his knuckles. “Here I am. And you’re going to be fine.”

  “I know.” His gaze moved from her to Zane and back again. “He watching out for you?”

  She glanced up at Zane. “He is.”

  “Good.” Johnny coughed, cringing in pain.

  Behind them, an ambulance and fire engine rolled into the parking lot. Voices shouted, and a minute later, Macky and Pierce approached with a gurney.

  “Damn, Zane,” Macky drawled. “You look like hell.”

  “Feel like it.” He rose and gestured toward Johnny. “He was trapped by a ceiling joist. Smoke inhalation. Contusions, broken ribs, possible punctured lung.”

  Pierce and Macky worked in concert to slide a body board beneath the fry cook and secure him in place. After lifting Johnny onto the gurney, Macky waved his hand to load the patient into the truck.

  “We got this, Zane.”

  “I know you do.”

  Turning, he assisted Fallon to her feet, and, together, they followed after Macky. Zane stared at the Engine House, now fully involved, flames devouring the remaining roof structure. Firefighters aimed nozzles, the first arcs of water splashing onto charred wood. At the back of the ambulance, Macky paused.

  He jerked a thumb toward the rear doors. “Another bus is en route. I can leave you a box till it gets here.”

  Zane nodded. Johnny’s injuries were far worse than those he and Fallon had endured. They could wait for the second ambulance to take them to the hospital.

  “That would be good.” He glanced at Fallon, who still held Johnny’s hand.

  “I’ll call Darla so she can meet us at the hospital,” she told him.

  The fry cook grimaced. “Don’t want to worry her.”

  “She’ll be madder than sin if I don’t tell her.” She squeezed his fingers. “Besides, I heard you had another date set for this weekend.”

  Johnny smiled. “Dancing. Never been much good at it.”

  “I’m sure she’ll think you’re perfect.”

  Pierce cleared his throat, and Fallon stepped back while he pushed the gurney into the ambulance and slammed the doors.

  Macky set the medical kit next to Zane. “See you, West.”

  A moment later, the ambulance siren wailed to life, and the vehicle crossed the parking lot. After turning onto the main road toward the hospital, Macky gave a final wave through the driver’s side window. Zane lifted his hand in response, but a discordant buzz rippled the air, halting his gesture.

  At the end of the restaurant driveway, Haileon burst into being. He staggered to the center of the road, his hand still covering the injury Zane had imparted, his hexagonal, scaled armor smoldering from Fallon’s lightning cage. The beast glared in their direction and then rounded toward the ambulance carrying Johnny.

  “No,” Fallon gasped.

  Haileon flicked his wrist, sending an invisible ball of energy hurtling toward the truck. The impact tossed the vehicle into the air, ripping the rear axle off and peeling the side of the ambulance away. For a second, Zane saw Johnny’s terror-stricken face as he tumbled inside the truck.

  The front grill struck the pavement and vaulted the vehicle onto its roof, crushing it to half its original size. Medical equipment flew through the air, and Macky’s body lay half out the shattered windshield.

  A momentary hush blanketed the area.

  Ka-boom!

  Vibrations from the explosion rolled over Zane and Fallon, the force knocking them to the ground. Muted yells from nearby firefighters resonated with alarm. Ears ringing, Zane peered at Fallon, touched her arm. Her golden gaze met his before she shoved herself from the ground.

  “Johnny!”

  Zane grabbed her, gathering her against him while sobs shook her. Scanning the wreckage, he grimaced. The whole thing had happened so fast, just a matter of seconds, and all he’d managed was two steps before the ambulance exploded. Not enough to save them. But his heart ached with the truth—Johnny’s death
was on his hands.

  And this time? Haileon would be the one to pay. Even if it meant following him through the gates of Hell.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The fire was out, the Station House in ashes. They’d spoken to the authorities, though they had nothing to say. What could they say…? Well, you see, sir, there was this big demon. He set my restaurant ablaze and blew up a dear friend. Fallon choked on her thoughts and swiped at the tears that refused to stop flowing.

  With their statements given to the authorities and nothing else for them to do, they’d left the scene, Zane driving them to her house. Fallon didn’t want the hospital. She would heal relatively soon. What she wanted was Zane to wrap her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right—even if she knew better. But the silent ride home weighed on her.

  Staring out the passenger window, she bit her lip. God, she’d been so sure they’d gotten rid of Haileon on the island. But in reality, they’d done nothing more than piss him off. And poor Johnny and two of Zane’s good friends, honorable men who’d spent their lives helping others, had lost their lives because of her arrogance.

  None of it was fair. She risked a glance at Zane. Would he hate her for the loss?

  After pulling into her driveway, he shut off the engine and exited the truck. Fallon trudged behind him, her heart aching with such intensity that she feared the only way to stop the pain would be for it to stop beating. Her hubris had brought this horrible beast’s wrath to those she loved.

  At the door, she fumbled with her keys. Zane placed his hand over hers and unlocked the door for her, opening it wide to follow her through. She had no idea what to say to him. He was hurting over the loss of life as much as she was, but he must also be thinking of his own fate. Haileon still existed, which meant his deed on Zane’s soul did as well.

  Fallon tossed her overnight bag in the hallway while he sunk onto the couch. He hung his head, wrapping his hands around the back of his neck, and stared at the floor. Leaning against the wall, she watched him for a moment, hoping he might talk to her, but he remained quiet. She didn’t blame him. Her emotions were damn raw as well.