4
A thunder of panic rolled through the gathered crowd. The hand that had forced Ren down took her by the blindfold and ripped at it, stretching it. The fabric slid down her face and collected at her mouth. Good thing too, because she was about ready to scream.
Fire. It was everywhere—dancing behind her eyes. Burning up her temples. Orange light fought against midnight as a woman crouched before Ren and yanked others from the line. The two hid behind a thick bush that obscured most of the crowd. But didn’t hide the wide platform that stood at the back of the arena. Nor the black vat that sizzled and spat at the center of the platform.
“Girl.”
Ren blinked. Something told her she should take offense to that. But before she could give her savior a piece of her mind, the woman locked her fiery eyes with Rens and narrowed them. “Watch.” she barked, her high-pitched voice obscured by a long, blue, bandanna. She pointed at the bush, snapping her head toward it as if to say—quickly, numbskull.
Ren bit at her bottom lip just as another scream rolled off the platform above. Scooting to the bush, she poked her head above it. Her jaw dropped, her eyes widened. Some skull-faced jackass was throwing people into the vat. And when they fell in, white steam sizzled off of the top. Ren’s stomach churned as she came to the realization that these people were boiling others alive. And that would have been her fate. That would be Itzel’s fate.
Ren turned to the fiery-eyed woman, “My friend’s in the line!”
Crouching still, she ignored Ren. Jerked out her hand to save more people from a boiling fate. When Ren found her way to the fiery-eyed woman, the lady stopped her with a flat palm to the gut. Ren puked.
The lady bit back a retort, screeching in that singsong language before she quieted herself. She’s one of them. Ren backed away. Unable to wipe her mouth because of the rope around her wrists, she almost fell backward into the pile of bodies that the woman was quickly collecting behind their bush.
“Watch, Outsider.” She said the last word like it was a scathing insult. And maybe it was but it only confused Ren. “Stay away.” And she turned again, crouching as she watched the line and started pulling again.
What. The. Fuck.
Ren went back to the bush and watched. Searching the thinning line for Itzel. She counted five people before her eyes finally fell on Itzel’s slumped form. No. She was so close to the platform—too close for the fiery-eyed woman to help her out. And what was this lady planning on doing afterward? It wasn’t like she was cutting their binds so that they could fight for themselves. Throwing her gaze over her shoulder, Ren spotted a jagged sword hanging from the woman’s belt. Just how did she get in the compound? She wasn’t a captive and the workers around here didn’t seem so keen on mercy.
A high-pitched whistle answered her questions. As did multiple grunts and screams as soaring arrows ripped through the nearby tree line and found their targets, embedding themselves in breastbones and necks. Masked men went down. People in the lurching line of death tumbled to the ground. The gathered crowd before the platform took their foreheads from the dirt and turned their eyes to the blue-tinged forest of trees scattered around the perimeter to their right. If the moon weren’t out, Ren’s eyes wouldn’t have been able to see them. A group of warriors sprang from the trees, some diving from the treetops. Arrows whirred down in a storm of black hail as the crowd exploded into a wailing frenzy.
The vat kept sizzling. The jackass on the stage started throwing people in quicker now, almost as if his life depended on it. Fiery Eyes jolted up from her position and screamed in that singsong language at the people in line. Some ran to her. Others sprinted in different directions, a gaggle of captives rushing for the tree line or going the opposite way.
“Itzel!” Ren screamed. “Mia!”
No one in line turned. The platform began to move and bend as wood lurched up like a curling cobra and twisted around those closest to Skull Face on the stage. Even from this distance, Ren could see his fingers contort and curl, tiny bones snapping like tree branches. The first six in line going up with the wooden cobra before it dropped its gangly body into the vat.
Itzel. Itzel screamed.
“Itzel!”
The line vanished. Any sense of normalcy vanished—as if there was any to begin with. Everything fell away as Ren watched magic—magic move the fucking stage—work for a murderer who barked a lethal chant in island gibberish. Ren couldn’t help but scream. Couldn’t help but cry as Itzel’s voice rose to the sky and crashed with the clouds, the moon. If Mia were there, Ren would never know now because only Itzel remembered. Only Itzel knew.
And it was just her now. Ren. The fuck up.
Steel and wood clashed. Arrows pierced through bone and sung high over her head. Fiery Eyes disappeared into the brush at Ren’s right, but she continued to stand. Continued to cry and scream. She’d commit Itzel’s scream to memory as she boiled alive. She’d hear that scream in her dreams and know—know that this was no nightmare.
This was real.
And it was all because of that skull-faced jerk. He still stood on the stage, using his vantage point as a weapon as he moved his arms slowly as if pulling them through molasses. His men cried a cacophonous war cry that broke Ren from her trance. Still standing there with her hands tied behind her back, she ran. Ran as fast as her legs would take her.
5
Ren hit the tree line and tripped. Tumbling over a gnarled tree root, she rolled. Slammed her back into another vicious root and lay there. Her breath caught in her throat, sweat oozed down her neck and collarbone. The t-shirt she wore, torn and soiled with blood and tears; was destroyed now. Slick with sweat, dirt, and leaves. Wet bit through her back. Black hair stuck to her face and neck and—dammit, she felt like crying.
What was stopping her?
The stars. The sounds of war. Footfalls ripping through the thicket. Barely masked murmurs. People ran to meet the camp and all she could think about was that Itzel was dead. Her friend—her only tie to the memories that were stolen from her—was gone. Mia was all that was left and, knowing Ren’s luck, she had probably died too. Boiled alive in that damned vat.
White light tore through the canopy, sprinkling the forest, her face. With her hands still tied behind her back and her thighs aching, Ren had no way of getting back up. She was stuck. Useless. Worthless.
You know what? Go. I don’t fucking care. Go have fun.
You can’t run from your problems, Ren. You’re not fast enough.
You’re not smart enough.
Another memory? It was a man’s voice. Scratchy and low. It made her heart sputter and choke. The guy sounded pissed. Angry enough to actually hold a grudge. And begrudgingly maintain it.
She had done something to deserve this. Something. If she could just fucking remember then maybe she could—what? Apologize? Yeah, like that would do much good. Her friends were dead. Who was she going to apologize to? Their parents? Ren shook her head but forced herself to keep her eyes open as the crashing footsteps faded. Was she safe? Were the masked men from the compound going to come for her? Come for all the captives who had escaped?
Ren held her breath. Here I am, going into shock again. She did her best to push Itzel from her mind. Mia. Damn. And as the thicket around her cleared, she held her breath and rolled up to sitting. Grimacing at the floating feeling in her head, she bowed her forehead and stood. One leg at a time.
I could have saved her.
She couldn’t break down. Not now. Not when she was so close to freedom. She surveyed the thicket, scanning around her for silhouettes. People. When she saw and heard nothing, she pressed forward—slower this time. Minding every step. She tiptoed through the brush and tried hard not to think about Itzel’s frantic screams as she boiled in the vat. Did Itzel call her name? A hand had sprung from the vat—and she saw it. Dammit, she saw it. White bones melding with flesh and muscle and—
Keeling over, she puked. All over her fucking jeans. Again.
She was gone.
Itzel was gone.
Footsteps. They made her freeze. The sounds of battle died as she realized how far she had walked into the brush. Orange tinted the trees, fighting with the deep blue of midnight. Someone was tending a fire. A lot of someones.
The language—what were they speaking? She listened. Strained hard to hear.
Dammit—she couldn’t understand. It was that singsongy language again. It seemed like that was all everyone ever spoke on this godforsaken island. They seemed to be arguing though. Maybe they were a part of the people who were fighting down at the compound? Those ones who were freeing people from the vat of death while dying in the process. She wondered if she’d see Fiery Eyes among them—that bitch. No—she had saved her. If anything, Ren owed the woman her life—and maybe a fist. Ren shook the idea from her head—she wouldn’t be going anywhere near that fire. In fact, she’d be going the opposite way. Not back toward the compound, but to the right. Toward the sky and the moon above.
She broke a branch.
Fuck.
The voices quieted, shushing each other. Then, broke into an argumentative roar before they quieted once more. A louder authoritative voice silenced them with one word. Heavy footfalls rushed behind Ren and she widened her eyes. Throwing caution to the wind, she ran.
But the air itself was against her. It roared from the sky like a tumult of rain, rushing down to stand in front of her as a thick barrier of upward rushing wind.
What the fuck?
It stopped her. The wind itself stopped her.
“Mesh?” a male voice. Mesh. She didn’t know what that meant.
She turned on her heel, meeting her pursuer head on. A blue crystal blazed in the night.
6
The bright blue glow alighted on a handsome face. Kind eyes scanned her own in the darkness. The man kept striding forward, the barrier of wind behind Ren howling as it thickened, holding her in place with invisible fingers. Ren could drown in those eyes, rest her head on that chest. Be cradled in the muscles of his brawny arms and feel safe. Secure. For once in her life.
“I don’t know.” Ren blurted, trying to back away but unable to. Right, the wind. “I don’t know what Mesh means.”
The man grazed his fingers along the strong line of his chin. He had to be a man who knew he was handsome, Ren knew his type. Somehow. From her memories. From that male voice in her head. She knew a guy just like this. Could almost place a name against the attitude. “I’m Ren.”
“Are you from the north shore?”
He could speak English!
North Shore? Ren shook her head, speechless and as he stood almost nose to nose with her. Staring down. He was even larger up close. A musky scent caught her, something wild and passionate floated around him. An aura that spoke of raw wilderness. “I’m from…” well, fuck. She didn’t know.
“You’re an Outsider.”
“Sure?” she shrugged. There was that word again—that insult. “You can speak English?”
“Sure.” He said, his voice a husky baritone. “We know your kind.”
Your kind. That sounded like an insult too. Still, he held out his hand. Calloused fingers stretched toward her. “You’re not from the north shore?”
“No.” She said, firmly. She placed her hand in his and his fingers snaked up to her forearm. They were rough, almost engulfed her forearm.
“Kato.” He said, giving her forearm a quick shake.
“Ren.” She grimaced, the forearm shake weirded her out. “Are you going to kill me?” A stupid question. She knew. But as the barrier behind her gasped out of existence, she could still feel the harsh tendrils of solid air creeping over her throat. The cold air only reminded her of her fever and the burning sensation creeping over her forehead and neck.
Kato was taken aback. “Why? You escaped.” and he flung his thumb behind him, indicating the compound.
“Yes—but my friends—” she swallowed. Corrected herself, “friend. She’s still in there.” Why was she telling him any of this? For all she knew he was one of them. Ren took a step back and he followed her. Intent on helping. Why?
“You won’t survive long out here. Alone.”
Was that a threat? “Thanks for the advice, but…” what would Itzel do?
Simple. She’d tell this guy to fuck off and go find her friends. But Itzel died. Itzel is dead. And Ren, no matter how hard she tried, would never be an Itzel. She just wasn’t smart enough. Nor tough enough. Hell, Itzel had been a Marine Corps reservist. While Ren—wait. Was she remembering now? Ren, she had been a…failure. The word just waltzed right on the tip of her tongue, teasing her. Failure.
What should I do?
“You should come with us. We are against them. If your friend is captive, we will get her back.” He spoke as if he were explaining addition to a nine-year-old. Did he think she was stupid?
“I’m alright by myself, really.” She really wanted to get away. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she could feel eyes on her. Human? Animal? Something else altogether? There was no telling in this godforsaken place.
Kato shrugged. “Seble, come out. She means no harm.”
Thicket sang in the distance. Footfalls broke through the brush and Fiery Eyes emerged from Ren’s right. She shouted in that singsongy language, pointing frantically toward the compound before stabbing an accusatory finger at Ren.
This was her chance. She could run. Take her chances out here in the wild. Maybe she’d get her memories back and she could find a way home. Or, maybe that skull-faced creep would catch her again. Throw her into that vat and watch her boil. Mia’s life was riding on Ren’s survival. If she wanted a chance at saving her friend—at not letting Itzel down…
She would need help. That much was obvious. But could she trust these people?
Kato turned and shouted toward the fire. A reply vaulted back and smoke replaced the tender orange light as their fire was snuffed out. Ren assumed that it was now or never. They were packing up. Probably preparing to run.
“What are you waiting for, Outsider? Do you wish to die?” Seble sneered, her fiery eyes turning into feral slits. She said more, but she switched to island gibberish. Ren tried to block it out of her ears as she turned her attention to Kato. He stood calmly, waiting for a reply, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“Okay.” Ren said. “I just want to save my friend. So, I’ll go.”
He sighed, the relief on his features plain.
Just as a tremor exploded through the forest, the earth ripping apart in a roar of grinding rocks and moaning trees. The ground rising up like rolling waves.
7
Ren could have screamed. Two orbs of molten gold burned in the distance. Attached was a wavering silhouette, its arms rigid as they rose high by its sides.
“Mafioso.” Seble hissed. “Outsider, come.”
What the fuck did she mean—come? There it was again, the shock. It planted her in place as she watched Kato lunge to the right. Every powerful step sent grass blades fluttering like flower petals riding the wind. He shoved a fist forward and cut his hand through the air like a scythe. A sharp explosion of curved air erupted from his flat hand, the hook foggy white as it lacerated a path through the trees. Heading for the figure drenched in molten gold.
The air scythe snapped, dissipating into little fingers of mist that rolled off the molten gold silhouette. The figure cackled—a sound that tore through the earth, wrenching a rocky roar from its tectonic plates. The ground continued to tremble, continue to rock and wave like the sea.
Ren almost snorted. Okay. She had to be high. Whatev
er drugs her kidnappers had inserted into her had certainly not worn off yet. For all she knew they were poking around at her body while she lay sprawled in one of those bamboo cages with froth bubbling off of her cracked lips. Or—you know—this could be real.
For some reason, she’d rather have the latter.
Seven bodies ripped through the trees, the group coming from the direction of the snuffed out fire. They were dressed like Kato and Seble in strange clothes. Harem pants or leather skirts. The women wore swirling white paint over their naked arms, the men black. Some looked disheveled and defeated, almost as if they had stood in that line of death and watched their comrades boil alive in that damned vat. These people looked nothing like Ren’s kidnappers, but just like her, they looked shocked.
The crystal hanging from Kato’s neck gleamed.
Seble threw a hand into the air, “Follow.” She said, staring pointedly at Ren before repeating the same word in island-speak. The group didn’t have to hear Seble’s command twice. When she lowered her finger and pointed to the right, they went without incident. Ren was another story. “You’re just going to leave him?”
“It is you who will be left.” Seble gutted out before following the group at a sprint.
Taking another lunging step forward, Kato spewed a blast of air from his adjacent fist. Going red with effort, the crystal at his throat glowed brightly, mirroring a supernova right before it explodes. The molten gold figure swayed, its cadence wavering as it kept striding forward. Ren fought to keep her balance as she watched, slack-jawed. What was she supposed to do again?
Oh, right.
A splitting clap echoed through the woods as Kato smashed his hands together only to bring them out slowly, molding them into the shape of an orb. The figure wavering toward him would not stop. Even when branches fell and grassland became sour dirt, it still moved. Still caused the earth to rock and roll with what seemed like no effort. These were gods, something told Ren, controlling the air. Shaping the earth. She had no place here, standing like a confused puppy. Watching—waiting to die if the slightest thing went wrong. Was she seriously waiting for this guy? Kato—the man she had only just met? She couldn’t save him—she could barely save herself. Itzel…Mia…she had to survive for them.
Wild Magic (The Island Book 1) Page 2