Frost Fire (Tortured Elements)

by Rivers, Olivia

  Luke looked ahead of them, up the hallway leading to the first story. He sniffed the air for a moment, cursed, and then jerked Allai to a stop. “You’re lucky I dismissed those guards,” he hissed. “If they’d overheard that, they might try to charge you with treason.”

  “Treason?” Allai repeated. She tried to yank her wrist out of Luke’s grasp, but his fingers held on like steel cables. “I’m just stating the facts, I’m—”

  “You’re defending an enemy, Allai! Drake Rhaize, of all people.”

  “Luke, he showed me memories! What I’m saying is the truth, it’s—”

  “Call it whatever you want, but it’s traitorous,” Luke said, cutting her off.

  “I’m sick of this,” Allai spat. “I’m sick of everyone threatening to expel me from my own home.”

  “This isn’t a home,” Luke said. “This is the headquarters of an ancient organization. A deadly one. You’ve lived here for over a decade. It’s time you get used to that.”

  He let go of her wrist and stalked off, leaving her in the middle of the hallway. She glared at his back. He seemed to feel her gaze, because he whirled around and said, “And you’re grounded.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. You’re grounded. For three months. No leaving the Manor without both my permission and Shieldak’s.”

  “You can’t do that!”

  “I’m your superior, Allai. I’ll do whatever I want.”

  He didn’t let her reply and just stormed off, leaving her to gape at his back. He never pulled rank on her. Everyone else in the Sentinel did that. But never Luke.

  Apparently, that had changed.

  “Don’t hurt him,” she begged Luke. “Please, just don’t hurt him.”

  But Luke didn’t stop walking.

  Allai felt a little lightheaded. Luke was acting frightening, and Drake… So many things surrounding him were still so mysterious. She continued to come back to one question: Why was Rhaize so interested in her? She’d always just chalked Drake’s ‘attack’ up to being Shieldak’s daughter. It was dangerous being a member of the Sentinel, and even more dangerous being a relative of Shieldak’s.

  But Rhaize had known her even before she’d been adopted. Drake had made that clear with his memories, and the memory had also shown that Rhaize thought Allai had some kind of magic ability. Which was ridiculous, of course. She didn’t have the bronze eyes of a Mage, and her magic would have manifested years ago if she’d had any Mage blood. But it still brought up the possibility that Rhaize might have another sort of interest in her, other than just the obvious war.

  Allai pressed a hand to her forehead and leaned against the wall. Then she realized that it wasn’t just her whirling thoughts; she actually was dizzy. She slid down to the ground, the walls spinning in front of her. Her tailbone had just touched the floor when black began eclipsing her vision.

  She closed her eyes.

  When she opened them, she was lying on the ground. She didn’t remember trying to lie down. Must have fallen.

  Her head hurt even worse than before. She reached up, her arm moving sluggishly, and touched the side of her head. Sticky liquid clung to her fingers. Definitely must have fallen. She’d broken open the scab that had been forming on her wound from her previous fall.

  She took in a deep breath. The world came back together more quickly this time, her vision falling back into place, and the wheels of her mind starting to turn again. She blinked a couple times and slowly stood, leaning against the wall for support.

  Anemia? Dehydration? Shock? She ran through different causes of fainting in her head, trying to remember which ones she’d actually read in her health book, and which ones just came from what little TV she watched.

  It struck her that she hadn’t seen a doctor before. She’d never gotten so much as a common cold, not even after that time Luke and her had a giant snowball fight on the Manor’s lawn, and her fingertips had turned blotchy purple. The next day, she’d been right as rain, and that was how she always felt: Healthy. There was no need for her to go to a doctor.

  Or was there? Could she have some sort of medical condition that was dangerous? Shieldak had always been against doctors, but maybe she needed to convince him to take her to one. Or maybe she could get Luke to do it. He’d understand.

  But before she figured out her medical problem—if there even was one—she wanted some answers to her other questions. And she wanted them quickly.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Allai’s truck rumbled to a halt in the driveway of the Manor. She took a deep breath, leaning back against her seat. It wasn’t comfortable. Nothing in this truck was ever comfortable; the seats, the way she had to stretch to reach the pedals, the failing heater. But it still got her places, it was hers, and she loved it.

  There weren’t very many of those things, she realized. Things she loved. There were a lot more things she hated, like being grounded, and the way Luke had been treating her lately. He acted like she was some juvenile delinquent; he was constantly restricting her movements, and constantly checking to see she wasn’t getting in trouble. And her dad wasn’t making the whole grounding thing any easier. She needed his permission to go anywhere, but he was making himself scarce to her.

  Being grounded sucked. So she’d ungrounded herself. Well, technically she’d just snuck out of the Manor early this morning, when everyone had still been asleep. It wasn’t smart, and it’d just earn her another rant from Luke. But she didn’t care. Drake had been killed a few days ago, after Rhaize had decided against negotiations. No one knew why he’d chosen not to take Drake back, after hunting him for years. But Allai didn’t even really care. Every part of her felt numb and jumbled. The consequences of sneaking out didn’t matter; she just needed some time to clear her mind.

  She pressed her palm to her forehead and sighed. Because it hadn’t worked. She’d driven to the nearest town filled with oblivious Luxs and their mundane lives. Nothing paranormal for miles. And she’d just sat there in a park, thinking things over, wondering what it would be like to take a walk without constantly looking for danger, or to talk about politics without numerous assassinations and murder plots being mentioned. It all had seemed so normal. So peaceful.

  And she wanted it. She wanted the normal, mundane human life she was born for. For years—hell, for as long as she could remember—she’d been looked down on for being human. For being herself. There was an easy fix to that, one she’d been trying to ignore all this time: She could become a Lux.

  That fact had struck her on the drive home to the Manor, and now her mind was even more muddled and confused than it’d been when she’d left. Because how could she ever leave the Manor? Even if Drake had been right, and it was unfair, and even if people disliked her… It was home. Home was where Luke was, and where her dad was, and where she’d grown up fighting to be tough like the Demons and Hunters, and laughing at all the oblivious Luxs.

  Something tapped against her window. Allai whirled toward it, stifling a scream. Luke stood outside on the driveway. His hands were stuffed in his jean pockets, his head cocked slightly to the side as he listened intently. He was tense. Nervous.

  And she was busted.

  Allai shoved the door open, jumping out and landing on the hard pavement. “Don’t scare me like that,” she snapped. “You—”

  Luke lunged forward and slapped a hand over her mouth. “Shut up, Allai. Get inside, and go to your room. Don’t come out until I tell you to.” He turned her away with a shove, pushing her toward the side entrance of the Manor.

  She almost fell flat on her face. Luke never talked to her like that. Telling her to shut up? That just wasn’t him.

  Allai whirled around to demand what was wrong with him. To demand what was wrong with all of them. Nobody had the right to treat her like that. Nobody.

  But then she saw the black jaguar sportscar parked at the top of the driveway. Much too gaudy for anyone in the Sentinel. A car like that could only mean one thing:
The French ambassadors were here.

  Her dad’s warning ran through her head: The French had come to talk about her. She turned to ask Luke what was going on and if she was in any sort of trouble. But he just snarled at her and pointed to the door.

  That did it. Banishing her to her room was one thing, but snarling was another. Something was wrong, and she wasn’t waiting around to find out what it was.

  Allai ran into the Manor, but forced herself to walk up the two flights of stairs to her room. She had to stay calm. Collected.

  She’d never really noticed how long it took to get upstairs. Two minutes, three? Too long. Then her bedroom door was within sight, and she jogged the last few steps to it. A sigh of relief escaped her as she pressed a palm to the cool wood and pushed it open. She slipped inside and closed the door quietly.

  And then gasped.

  Drake lounged on her bed, using a black duffle bag as a pillow. He was in his human form, his wings and claws gone. His face also looked a little softer. She liked him like that, soft and human.

  Drake didn’t open his eyes. But he raised an eyebrow and said, “Why is it that every time we meet, you’re in some sort of danger?”

  Allai just shook her head, shock and relief coursing through her. “You’re supposed to be dead,” she whispered.

  He scoffed. “Do you always greet people so enthusiastically?”

  She didn’t answer his question. Because it was sarcasm, and because she could hear the amusement and content hiding in his voice. She rushed forward, right to the edge of her bed, and leaned over to give him a hug. It was awkward; he didn’t react, and she couldn’t get her arms around him since he was lying down. But it still felt good.

  “You’re awfully chipper for someone being hunted,” Drake muttered.

  “Hunted?” She pulled back from him. “What? What’s going on?”

  Drake shrugged. His shoulders stretched against the fabric of his shirt, which was a little too small for him. But, no, it wasn’t his shirt. Allai startled as she recognized the black band t-shirt Luke liked to wear. Why was he wearing Luke’s clothes?

  “Didn’t your viper friend tell you what’s happening? He’s the one who dragged me up here.” Drake peeked open one eye. “And I’ll admit, I’m grateful. Your bed beats cement any day.”

  Her head spun. Luke had freed Drake. Drake Rhaize, the person he was convinced was a psychopath. And he’d sent Drake to her room. Why?

  And Drake was alive. She kept coming back to that fact, the reality of it striking her over and over, and the relief washing over her again and again. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh, cry, or jump around in excited circles. Her questions would be answered. She might finally understand her past. And she’d have someone from that past in her present life.

  She settled on slowly shaking her head, and asking, “Why are you on my bed?” It wasn’t the most intelligent of questions, but it was the one that was on the tip of her tongue. Because if Drake had been freed, why the hell was he lounging around her room instead of bolting out the Manor’s front door?

  Drake shrugged. He seemed to think he was saying something with the gesture. But it didn’t explain anything, and Allai wondered how hard it was going to be to get an explanation out of him. “Because it’s comfier than the floor,” he said.

  “Look, I’m not in the mood for sarcasm.” She took a deep breath. “Really, what are you doing in here?”

  He just shrugged again. “I don’t really know,” he said. “One moment I’m relaxing in your dungeon—it’s still yours, right?—and then that viper comes down and tells me to get my ass upstairs. I asked if there was a comfy bed waiting for me up there, and he said sure. So I followed him and got a lot of uncomfortable stares from your Warrior people. I think most of them were just scared of me, but I’m pretty sure one guy had a ‘you’re super hot, but I’m sadly hetero’ vibe going on. Anyway, we eventually made it up here. And that’s the story of why I’m now relaxing on your bed instead of the dungeon floor.”

  Allai was pretty sure most of that was sarcasm. And it explained nothing, other than the fact that Luke had led Drake to her room. In front of the population of the Manor. Most of the them wouldn’t have questioned it; Luke had power over them, and he could do anything he wanted. But her dad would have never allowed that, which meant Luke must have snuck around him. Luke was defiant and used his power to his advantage, but he knew better than to be deceitful.

  Which meant something was wrong. Really, really wrong.

  She turned back toward the door she’d just walked in. “I need to find Luke,” she mumbled. Her words sounded distant to her own ears. She fumbled with the doorknob. “I need to figure out what’s going on, and—”

  A strong hand gripped her shoulder, holding her back. Drake’s voice growled in her ear, “You walk out that door, and I’m just going to drag you back in here.”

  Her heart raced. The skin of his wrist brushed against her neck, reminding her of its heat, of just how powerful he was. “Is that a threat?” she whispered.

  “Damn right it is. Now let go of the handle and go sit on the bed.”

  She obeyed him. Partially because she knew he was right—he could just drag her right back into the room if she walked out. And partially because she could hear the concerned edge to his tone. That tone was familiar. Deeper and huskier now, but still comfortingly familiar.

  When she sat on the bed, he nodded in satisfaction. Then he sat on the floor. Or collapsed to the floor. Allai wasn’t sure what his weirdly graceful decent could be called.

  “Now,” Drake said, “pack your things.”

  “Pack what things?” she demanded.

  “Essentials. Clothes, maybe a weapon. Oh, and makeup. That’s essential to all girls’ survival, right? I don’t want you stroking out because you forgot your mascara.”

  “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

  Drake raised an eyebrow. “The viper didn’t tell you?”

  “Luke! His name is Luke. And, no, he didn’t tell me anything. So, damn it, tell me what’s going on!”

  That cocky smirk, the one she was learning to hate, appeared on Drake’s lips. “We’re going on a road trip, little Nox.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Drake still remembered the one time he’d tried human food. It had been a potato chip, and it’d been revolting. But his immediate reaction hadn’t been to spit it out or puke. He’d just stood there, too shocked by the taste to even move.

  That was how the girl looked. Like she’d just eaten one of those horrible chips. Her expression was shocked, stunned, maybe a little horrified. “A road trip?” she demanded. “Is this a joke?”

  Drake bit his bottom lip and fingered the silver chain around his neck. “Does your definition of a joke involve the French and the Sentinel wanting you dead, and a drive across the country with me?

  “No.”

  “Then, nope. Not a joke.”

  She slapped a hand to her forehead. He winced. She really should be more careful about hitting herself like that. But she didn’t seem to notice how hard she’d slapped, and said, “Why do they want me dead? What’s going on?”

  The door slammed open, and the acrid scent of Persequor struck Drake’s nose. He scrunched his face and took a few steps back from the door. He had no idea how the girl managed to live with this viper.

  “Luke!” Allai cried. She jumped off the bed and ran toward him, fluttering her hands at her sides like she just couldn’t contain her anxiety.

  It was a little strange watching her like that, all jumpy and fluttery. Most people he knew just got silent when they were anxious. But most people he knew were hardened warriors. They weren’t sweet and naïve and about to have their heart broken, like the girl.

  Most Demons didn’t like physical contact when they were worked up, and apparently Luke wasn’t any different. He hissed at Allai as she got close to him. Allai stumbled away from him, her eyes wide and scared. Drake growled. His growl sounded
strange in his human form, more of an annoyed hum than anything. But still pissed off. Because, seriously, Luke shouldn’t treat the girl like that.

  The viper growled back at Drake, his lip raising in a snarl. Allai’s eyes grew wider, like it was some kind of rarity to see a Demon act feral, and retreated one more step. She stopped right between the bed and the doorway. “What’s happening?” she whispered.

  “The French aren’t here for the budget.” Luke’s fists clenched at his sides, his blind eyes scanning the room in an old habit. He closed the door behind him with the heel of his foot, slamming it just a little too loudly. “They’re here for you, Allai.”

  “What? Me? Why?”

  “Slow down,” Luke snapped. He walked over to Allai. At six feet tall, he really towered over her. But Drake still had a comfortable four inches on him, if he needed to take the viper down.

  “They figured out that you’re not dead,” Luke said to her. “Someone tipped them off.” He shot Drake a suspicious look right as he finished his sentence. Allai’s eyes followed. Drake just rolled his eyes at them.

  “Yeah, the French know I’m alive,” Allai said slowly. “I already know that. My dad told me about a week ago.” Luke’s expression turned to one of shock, and Allai quickly said, “I meant to tell you! I would have, I swear. I’m sorry. But I thought you already knew.”

  Luke opened his mouth to snarl something at her, but then he dropped his head back and sighed. “It doesn’t matter now, Allai-bird,” he muttered. “You can’t fix things now. This situation is already royally screwed.”

  “What exactly is going on, Luke?” Allai asked, this time in a whisper. Her hands were fluttering again, and she stepped back, like she thought a little distance would make the whole thing go away.

  Luke’s voice quieted a deathly calm tone. “The French know you’re a Caedes Mage, Allai. They want you dead.”