Frost Fire (Tortured Elements)

by Rivers, Olivia

  Boyfriends weren’t supposed to be like him.

  “What made you break up?” Allai asked.

  She started trailing her finger along his scars, absently tracing the crescent outlines. He tensed, waiting for that familiar, gut-wrenching pain. But her touch was so gentle, it didn’t hurt at all. Actually, it felt good. He took a deep breath, inhaling her sweet scent. Damn, he’d missed this.

  “Did something go wrong with Jada?” Allai pressed.

  “Yeah, something went wrong. You went wrong.”

  Shit. Just shit. That shouldn’t have come out. He held his breath and just focused on the road, hoping Allai wouldn’t respond. Maybe she hadn’t heard that, or maybe she’d misheard him, and he wouldn’t have to worry about this conversation taking a nosedive into more emotions and feelings and awkwardness.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Allai murmured.

  He didn’t answer. There was no way he could even try to answer. He’d just straightened things out with Allai; he didn’t need to mess everything up again.

  “Drake?” Allai glanced up to him, her lips nervously pursed together.

  He wanted to kiss those lips. Just kiss her and make her forget this entire conversation. But that probably wouldn’t work. And, besides, it wasn’t exactly the best time for kissing: He was driving, and she was discussing his ex-girlfriend.

  “Forget it,” Drake said. “It’s nothing.”

  “No, it is something. What happened?”

  What could he do? The obvious answer was to tell her to shut up, stop asking questions, and never bring up the subject again. But this was Allai. He couldn’t talk to her like that, because she wasn’t him. She was still sweet. He wasn’t sure how long that trait would last, considering all the shit happening to her. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to take her sweetness away.

  If he couldn’t tell her to shut up, that only left one option: He had to tell the truth.

  “We kind of broke up because of you,” Drake said slowly. “Well, not really you. It was more because of me, I guess.”

  Allai shook her head. “I don’t get it. What happened? I don’t even know Jada.”

  She made it sound so stupid. Of course she didn’t know Jada. He’d ruined a perfectly good relationship for a girl who didn’t even know about his girlfriend. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  He wanted to just close his eyes and to get away from this conversation, from his pain, from the girl. Well, maybe not the girl. The girl could stay, if she’d just be quiet.

  But he couldn’t close his eyes; he had to keep driving. So he took a deep breath and started to explain.

  “Like I’ve said, Jada sees the future. When she saw your future, and you getting attacked by Silas, she showed me. You know, through her memories. And… I kind of flipped out. Jada told me I shouldn’t care about another girl so much, and she dumped me. And, yeah. That’s it. That’s what happened.”

  Saying all that didn’t hurt as much as he’d anticipated. The break-up hadn’t been that hard, since he’d been constantly expecting it. But he figured he should still feel at least a little pain whenever he spoke about it. Because wasn’t that what normal people felt? He rubbed his temples and sighed. He wanted to be normal. Just for once, he wanted that pain.

  Allai stopped tracing over his scars. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  Drake kissed her forehead. “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “But—”

  He kissed her on the lips, cutting her off. She gave into the kiss faster this time, and for a moment, he forgot everything. The uncomfortable conversation, their deadly predicament, everything. There was just Allai’s sweet scent and her soft lips pressing against his.

  He pulled away only because he didn’t want to crash the truck. Allai rested her head on his shoulder, and went back to trailing a finger along his scars.

  “What happened with Jada doesn’t matter, Allai,” Drake said. “You matter. That’s all.”

  The cell phone started ringing, cutting off any response Allai could have given. Drake snatched up the phone from where it sat on top of the dashboard. “Hello?” he answered.

  “Drake.” It was the viper’s voice. “It’s you.”

  “Why do you always expect someone else to pick up?” He didn’t give Luke enough time to answer before saying, “I’ve tried calling you like twenty times. Why the hell weren’t you picking up?”

  Luke sighed. “I’ve been busy.”

  “Busy? Are you kidding me?” Drake took a deep breath. He couldn’t get angry with Luke, not if he wanted the viper’s help. “Look, Allai’s dying, and I need to know who her parent is. Immediately. You said you’d help find them. Have you?”

  “It’s Flacks. Her father is Flacks.”

  “Don’t mess with me,” Drake snapped. “I know it can’t be Flacks. His kid died years ago.”

  Drake still remembered that event clearly. He’d been six, and he’d been happy. Drake knew he shouldn’t have been, and that he should have felt bad for the poor kid who was killed. But he couldn’t help it. The kid’s death had kept Dad busy with the Keepers, so he wasn’t around much. But the girl was always around, whenever he got a chance to sneak into her room. For once in his life, he’d had a friend, and things had felt almost normal.

  Drake learned the details of Flack’s loss as he got older. Flacks was a powerful man—the leader of the Keepers and of the three Caedes Mages—and people generally agreed that whoever killed his kid had a death wish. But the culprit was never found. They were traced back to the Sentinel, tensions had heightened, and a full-on war almost started. But Flacks never was able to get revenge.

  “Flacks’ kid didn’t die,” Luke replied, bringing Drake’s thoughts back to the conversation. “She disappeared, and it was assumed the Sentinel killed her. But she’s not dead, Drake. She’s Allai.”

  Drake didn’t answer. Instead, he looked for a turnout on the highway, and pulled over as one came up. He couldn’t drive anymore. He could hardly think, his mind spun so hard.

  How many years ago did Flacks’s kid disappear? Twelve. And it was twelve years ago that the girl had showed up at Dad’s place, terrified out of her mind. But she didn’t just show up at Dad’s place; she was at his summer house, where Drake grew up. Flacks never came there, and Dad knew that.

  Drake thought he might puke. Because Dad hadn’t just kidnapped the girl; he’d kidnapped her from Flacks, the man who he saw and worked with nearly every day. The man Drake saw, too. And a person who Drake could have told about the girl.

  He could have saved her.

  “For Christ’s sake, Drake, say something,” Luke snapped.

  Drake took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He didn’t want Allai to see the rage in them. “Does he know?”

  “Does who know what?” Luke asked.

  “Does Flacks know what Rhaize did?”

  “I was able to tell him the basics,” Luke said. “You’ll have to eventually fill him in on what details you can. But Rhaize is now a dead man walking. All Keeper Agents have been alerted that he’s now an enemy, and they’ll kill him on sight.”

  “It won’t be that easy,” Drake replied. “He has his own resources and connections the Keepers don’t even know about. And then there are all his men loyal only to him.”

  “You’re right,” Luke said. “It won’t be easy. The bastard has survived five centuries. This is a minor roadblock to him.” Luke paused for a moment. “He’s probably still going to come after Allai.”

  “That doesn’t matter now. Look, I need Flacks to undo a spell he set on Allai.”

  “Why?” Luke demanded.

  “Because it’s killing her, damn it!” Drake gritted his teeth and forced in a deep breath. He didn’t dare look over to Allai; he didn’t think he could handle watching her reaction to his words.

  “It’s that spell he cast on Allai to mask her species,” Drake said in a quieter tone. “It’s splintering and killing
her. He needs to reverse it soon, or she’ll die.”

  Luke let out a string of curses, and Drake covered the speaker with his palm in case Allai overheard. She probably knew every word Luke was saying—she’d grown up with the guy, after all—but some part of him still felt the need to shield her from the extravagant profanity.

  “Okay,” Luke muttered. “Okay. We’ll get her to Flacks, and he’ll reverse the spell. But that’s a potent spell. If it’s splintering, she doesn’t have much time.”

  “I’m about four hours from the Chimeras’s.” Drake didn’t comment on Allai’s time limit. He couldn’t talk about that, or he’d never be able to concentrate on the conversation. “I can make it in two. When can Flacks get there?”

  “He’ll be there before you,” Luke replied. “He has a transportation spell.”

  “If he can transport, can’t he just get to us right now?” Drake asked.

  “No,” Luke said. “It’ll take him at least an hour to activate the spell. If you wait around for him in the same place for an hour, you’ll be sitting ducks for Rhaize.”

  “He can’t do it any faster?”

  “Even doing it that fast is dangerous, but he’ll do it for Allai. He’ll do anything for her.”

  “How do you know that?” Drake asked. It was just one of the many questions he wanted to ask. How had an agent of the French contacted Flacks, how had he guessed Allai’s parentage, how did he know so much about magic?

  “That doesn’t matter,” Luke said. “Just get to the Chimeras. Flacks will save her if you can do that.”

  “I can do it.”

  He managed to get the words out of his mouth. But he didn’t manage to get a glimpse of what hit the truck; there was just the squealing of tearing metal and Allai’s scream. Metal feathers and claws flashed in the corner of his eye, and he had time for one thought before adrenaline kicked in:

  He’d probably just lied.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Splinters of glass rained down on Drake. He threw himself over Allai, shielding her from the shards. She screamed, and Drake almost let out a yell of his own. Because this couldn’t be happening. Not now, not when they were so close.

  The truck rocked back and forth a couple times, and then settled on its side. Drake blinked, and dull light filtered into his vision. Fog swirled around the shattered windows, concealing whoever was out there.

  He shifted his position, so that his arms wrapped around the girl in a more comforting hold. She let out a quiet sob, and he kissed her cheek.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  Her lips moved, and Drake knew she said something in response. But he didn’t hear it. All he heard was the sound of wind-chimes drifting through the fog. His stomach churned, and suddenly he wished the girl was holding him, and not the other way around.

  There was a flash of a metal wing in the corner of his vision. The feathers were long and slim, and they rustled together to create the chiming sound. Drake looked over his shoulder, hoping to find his wings there, hoping that maybe it was his own feathers he was hearing. It wasn’t. He was still in his human form.

  And there was only one other Demon with wings like his.

  Drake snarled. He regretted it the moment the sound left his mouth. Because it was a direct challenge, and no one challenged Dad. Or at least no one who was still alive.

  Drake pressed his forehead against the girl’s and closed his eyes. It was just for a moment, but it was enough. Enough to breathe in her scent, to listen to her heartbeat, to feel her skin against his. Enough to remember why he had to face Dad.

  “Stay here,” he murmured to Allai. She nodded, and Drake took a deep breath. Then he leapt out the broken windshield. A shard of glass sliced open his forearm, and blood poured out of the wound as he landed outside the truck. But there was no pain, no sensation. Just his pounding heart and fast breaths which were making him a little dizzy.

  Drake peered through the fog, but couldn’t see anyone. His heart sped up even faster, and he thought he might faint. Because Dad was watching. He was somewhere out there in the fog, and he was watching.

  Dad always watched. And he waited, just anticipating any kind of mistake Drake could make. Only, this time, Dad didn’t have to wait. Drake had already made a mistake: He’d challenged Dad. And there was no way he’d survive that.

  Drake backed up a few steps, so that his back was to the flipped hood of the truck. Something warm trickled over his knuckle, and he glanced down to find his black blood seeping out of his tightly clenched fist. He must have punctured his palm with his fingernails. Or at least that was his best guess, because he felt no pain to confirm it.

  He glanced around, taking in the ruined truck and the red Hummer rammed into its side. The Hummer’s door was still open, and Drake could picture Dad leaping out of the vehicle right before it impacted his truck. Because Dad was brave enough to do something like that. Or maybe he was crazy enough.

  “Drake.”

  Drake whirled around at the sound of his name. Dad stood there, just feet in front of him. He looked the way he always did: a carbon-copy of Drake, only he appeared about twenty years older. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe Drake was the carbon-copy of Dad.

  Drake tried to extend his claws, but nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing. Drake gasped in a breath, but it just made him dizzy. He’d forgotten to shape-shift. He was still in his human form and facing Dad. He was as good as dead.

  And the girl was, too.

  Dad laughed and slowly shook his head. “Are you really going to try to fight me in that form, Drake?”

  Drake stumbled back a step. He took a deep breath and prepared to shape-shift. But then Dad made a tsking noise, and Drake froze. He knew that noise all too well. It meant he was doing something wrong. Something stupid.

  “Think for a moment, Drake,” Dad said. “It’ll take you at least four seconds to completely shift.” He nodded to the truck. “That’s plenty of time for me to hurt your little friend in there.”

  Drake shook his head. Some of his hair flew into his eyes, and he brushed it away. But not without remembering that Dad didn’t like it when he kept his hair shaggy like this.

  “Well?” Dad said. He spread his arms wide, in a questioning gesture. “Aren’t you going to say something to me? You haven’t seen me in years, you know.”

  “Don’t hurt her,” Drake whispered. He winced, hating how weak he sounded. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak any louder.

  Dad chuckled. “Hurt her? No, I won’t do that. Not if you listen closely to me.”

  “You just crashed a Hummer into her!” Drake said, his voice a little stronger.

  Dad shrugged. “I wanted your truck out of commission. And she’ll just heal if she was injured. She’s a Caedes.”

  Drake swallowed hard, but couldn’t protest. Dad was right; she would heal. That deep gash on her palm had healed within hours after the gas-station incident. Any injuries she’d received from Dad’s vehicle wouldn’t be long-term.

  That didn’t make him any less angry.

  Dad smirked. “Don’t look at me like that, Drake. I’m here for your own good.” He took a step toward Drake, and then another. Drake was frozen, his legs shaking and too heavy to move. Dad roughly grabbed Drake’s chin and forced it up, so that their eyes met. That was the one other thing that made them look different: Dad was taller.

  There was nothing in Dad’s eyes. Brutal cunning, maybe. But, other than that, they were empty.

  Drake tried to looked down as that relentless question struck him again. It was the question he’d wondered about since he was little, the one that hadn’t stopped haunting him since he’d first thought about it: Were those empty eyes the ones Allai saw when she looked at him? Did he have Dad’s eyes, and just lack the emotions to see it?

  “Look at me, Drake,” Dad said.

  His breath was hot on Drake’s face, and he flinched away from it. But he did
what Dad said to do; he looked back up until their eyes met.

  “Shieldak has spread a warning about that girl,” Dad said, nodding toward the truck. “She’s an Empath.”

  “She hasn’t done anything wrong,” Drake replied.

  “I’m not here to discuss morals, Drake,” Dad said. “I’m here to give you a choice.”

  Drake tried to jerk out of his grip, but Dad refused to let go. His fingers dug deeper into Drake’s flesh until he stopped struggling. “What kind of choice are you talking about?” Drake demanded between gritted teeth.

  “It’s not a simple one,” Dad said. “But I suppose I’ll sum it up simply. Your first option is to give me that girl and let me dispose of her. Maybe I’ll even let you do it. You’d probably kill her in a less painful way than I would.”

  Drake swung his fist up at Dad. He aimed right for the jaw—the perfect uppercut, just like Dad had taught him. But Dad simply snatched his fist out of the air and twisted Drake’s arm behind his back. Pain tore through Drake’s shoulder, and he knew his joint would dislocate with just a little more pressure. But he was almost glad for the sensation. Because, with his arm twisted back like that, he couldn’t look up into Dad’s eyes anymore.

  “Your other option,” Dad continued, “is to let that girl go to Flacks. He’ll take her back in, of course. He’ll probably even claim that he loves her. And then he’ll abuse her powers so that she’ll be nothing but a pawn, a murderer, and a mere shell of herself.”

  Drake closed his eyes for a moment and pictured that scenario playing out. All he could see was Allai staring at him with Dad’s empty gaze. “That’s not true,” Drake hissed. “That wouldn’t happen.”

  “Flacks has been waiting for centuries for an Empath to be born. He wants the power of one. He thinks he needs it. Why do you think I stole that girl away from him? Even before I knew she was an Empath, I knew she was too powerful for Flacks’s own good. He would have destroyed himself and everything surrounding him if he had full access to her powers.”

  “You only stole her because you wanted her powers,” Drake spat.