by K. Gorman
It? That didn’t sound like quite the right pronoun, and Aiden had distinctly been referring to it with male pronouns—but the Phoenix seemed a bit too fluid in its gender for that.
She’d ask Aiden. And if she liked his answer, she’d use it.
She dropped down to the floor, examining her new power. There was a lot of it. More than she’d ever touched through the transfer—like comparing a dam to a garden hose. She wasn’t playing with matches. She was plugged into the sun.
After a second, she wandered toward the elevator, still examining the fire on her hand. The man in the doorway moved as she approached. Her head snapped up as his glasses glinted in the light.
The telepath.
Fire flared, ready to fight—but, after a moment’s survey, she made it back off.
She wouldn’t need it here. Jo had taken care of him. The soldier stood between them, a serious-looking gun casually pointed at his head. He appeared to be bleeding.
Jo followed her gaze.
“Hard to make a spell with a bullet in your leg.”
Not for Mieshka. She could burn the world now.
“What shall we do with them?” Jo asked.
Buck moved to her right, coming from another part of the hangar where he’d been watching the other two men. There was a dark mark on the ground, streaking toward the soldiers.
Blood, she realized. Her hand flew to her hair.
It’s gone. Gerard’s death was just an illusion, as was the blood.
She wondered where he was. Upstairs, with the rest of the soldiers who had been her escort, or back at that building?
“Meese?”
She glanced up.
Buck and Jo both watched her. “What should we do with them?”
They were asking her?
…who the hell had left Mieshka in charge?
Of course, maybe it was their job to protect her, now that Aiden had been kidnapped. Or maybe she’d somehow become their boss with Aiden gone.
Looking between them, she doubted it was the latter. They were asking her what she wanted to do.
The Phoenix took her attention, then, reaching out into the ether. She widened her eyes, swiveling to follow its mental path as an arrow of light swept out in her mind, pointing the way.
Like a magnet drawn to iron, she knew where the crystals were.
“I can find the crystals,” she said, blinking out of the mental compass. “But it would be faster if we had an address.”
She rounded on the telepath, who glared at her through his glasses.
Heat shivered between them. She raised her hand, fire rising greedily through her fingers. “Address?”
“Fuck you.”
Jo kicked him.
He yelled, rolling away. It turned to a whimper as the elevator door tried to close on him. The light caught on blistered skin. She wondered how much she had burned when she’d torched the area with her transfer power.
Stepping closer, she steeled her face.
There were a lot of people counting on her. People would die if she didn’t get that shield back up.
She knelt down, a casual flame slipping over her knuckle. She hoped it hid the shaking in her hand.
“Your people killed my mother. I don’t have a lot of patience.”
He watched the fire. Mieshka saw his Adam’s apple dip as he swallowed.
“1254, 21st Street North, Cyprios Building.”
Buck stirred. “Should we leave him here?”
Mieshka eyed the blood on his leg. He cringed away from her.
“There will be soldiers up there. I think I can take them out. One of you goes up with me first. After, the other brings these three up. The hospital will find them that way.”
And the telepath wouldn’t be alone with the ship. An unprotected ship.
Not that he was capable of much right now. She doubted he could even move.
She stepped onto the elevator, her toes curling in her sneakers as water rippled from her feet. The walls were streaked with spray, and smoke hung heavy in the air. Another bullet hole—a sibling to the one that had cracked the outside edge of the door—had made a puncture in the ceiling. She eyed it as Jo stepped in with her.
The telepath yelled as Buck pulled him off the threshold. A few seconds later, the door closed on both of them. The elevator began its ascent.
She stared at the lit up-facing arrow above the door, feeling the occasional rock and sway. After a minute, she broke the silence.
“Why are you two letting me lead?”
Jo shrugged. “You haven’t fucked up yet.”
Mieshka raised an eyebrow. Where had she been these past few hours?
“I led the enemy to the last crystal.”
“And figured out how to get rid of them.” Jo shifted her weight, adjusting a strap of her harness. She was armed to the teeth. “Besides, they would have come, anyway. Don’t take a genius to figure it out.”
True. Even Robin knew where the ship was.
God, Robin. Where are you?
She gave her head a little shake—at least, she’d be safe Underground—and refocused. “Still, I—”
“You what?” Jo raised an eyebrow. “You’re the equivalent of like ten Mages right now—a fucking H bomb ready to explode on our enemies. You said you can find the crystals? Yeah, Buck and I are fucking down for that. All I gotta do is make sure you don’t get killed.” Jo looked up, as though thinking. “This takes four minutes from top to bottom, which means we have about ten minutes without Buck’s help, if we include loading time and the time it takes it to pause and go again. How’s your firepower?”
Mieshka flexed it. Water hissed at her feet, rising as steam.
“I think I can burn bullets now.”
“Focus on burning people first.”
“Okay.”
“But don’t burn me. Got it?”
“I think so.”
*
Mieshka shivered, but not from the cold. Could she really set someone on fire? Now that she took the time to think about it, the idea made her quail.
Technically, she’d done it before. The telepath—Ramos, that was his name—could vouch for that. She thought of his blistered skin, the scream he’d made as Buck had dragged him away.
She was responsible for that.
But she hadn’t seen him burn. For all her suspicions and certainty, the people she’d burned had been invisible to her. She had set fire to an empty room.
The soldiers upstairs wouldn’t be invisible.
Her jaws locked together, the muscles tightening in her cheeks.
Maybe I should close my eyes when I do this.
Jo positioned herself next to the door, her back to the console, assault rifle in her arms. As she watched, the former soldier slid down into a crouch.
She frowned down at her in a silent question.
“Reflection,” Jo said, indicating the water-streaked aluminum.
Ah. That made sense. She turned her attention upward, attempting to extend her senses and feel the soldiers that waited for them—as if the fire inside her could count the ones above. With the elevator’s sprinkler triggered, she had to assume there was a fire alarm somewhere. How far would it go? Would the soldiers above be alerted? And how many of them were there? How many soldiers did it take to escort a potential Mage like her?
Heat crackled under her skin, eager to slip out. However many there were, it wouldn’t be enough.
“Almost time,” Jo said. “You okay?”
She didn’t answer. These people had invaded her city, she reminded herself. They had invaded her city, killed her mother, and were likely to kill many others before this night was out.
Anger resurfaced. A flicker of fire licked along her fingers, coalescing into stable flames that burned at her fingertips like gas-fired lamps.
“Ready,” she said.
Ding!
The door slid open. Two soldiers stood in front of it, the false Homeguard patch visible on their left brea
sts and their guns gleaming in the light.
Big guns. Even larger than the rifle Jo held.
Like that’d help them.
Fire exploded in front of her, and she blasted them into the wall. One managed to get a shot off. It kicked into the black wall beside her with a ringing crack, deafening her right ear.
Jo turned past her, darting through the remnants of the fire. She delivered a swift kick to their gun arms and slammed the butt of her rifle into their heads. They slumped as Mieshka stepped out after her, their eyes lolling closed as they sank to the floor.
As Jo kicked their guns away from them, the elevator door closed behind her, and the entire scene went pitch-black.
The memorial was dark. No more names burned on its walls.
She had taken away its power source, hadn’t she?
She heard movement around her. A second later, Jo was by her side, pushing her along the corridor. The smell of water came to her, along with the trickle of the fountain as it continued to cycle through—it must have been on a different power source.
A click sounded behind them, in the spot they’d just vacated. She pushed back against the fear that was threatening to shake her hands.
It’s okay. They don’t have night-vision. They wouldn’t have prepared for that. Not in broad daylight.
Which made this whole thing feel like some sick game of Marco Polo. Jo squeezed her arm twice and pulled her a few steps more.
Right. I have to burn people now.
Suddenly, when faced with a room of people who wanted to shoot her, and no knowledge of how to produce a shield, the thought of attacking others seemed less severe. As the Phoenix threatened to flare up, she tamped back on its power, straining to hear over the fountain.
Fountain? Wait, water was just hydrogen and oxygen, right? She’d learned that in science. At a thought, the Phoenix flexed its wings.
Fire guttered briefly on the water, reflecting its surface like a cool prism.
Crack!
The bullet smacked the water, making the fire sputter out.
Jo gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. She felt dumb. Trying again, she focused elsewhere.
A Will O’ Wisp crackled into the center of the room, big as a bonfire. Heat burned blue at its core. Glancing around, she caught sight of the soldiers around the room, the glow reflecting in many sets of eyes.
Ten, at least.
She narrowed her eyes as their locations appeared in her mind.
Got you.
Before she could second-guess herself, she pulled on her fire—and exploded it across the room.
They lit easily, without resistance. Like pieces of paper.
She jerked at the noise—the screams—but Jo was already pulling her along. Shots fired, bullets biting into concrete. The room was not dark anymore. Fire lit everything. As they raced along the outer wall, the monsters on the stone tapestry danced in the burning light, claws and teeth outlined in flickering shadow. Angry. Aggressive. Mouths agape. Another man screamed, rolling on the floor. Mieshka tried to block the sight of him out as Jo jerked her to the side, half-jumping over his flailing legs.
At the entrance, three men barred their path, guns ready. The air lit up around them before they had a chance to raise them. Soon, they were screaming like the others, and Jo was shoving them out of the way with the butt of her gun.
The path was clear.
Jo pressed close to her ear. “We need one to confirm what the illusionist said.”
Mieshka blew out the fire on the closest one. Jo grabbed him as they turned the corner. She dragged him down the entrance hall, down the steps, and shoved him up against a security gate in the hallway of the mall.
Mieshka blinked in the sudden light. Her hands shook badly now, and she almost fell as she staggered down the stairs. An announcement crackled up the hallway, the static making her head snap up and fire crackle back into the air around her. She tamped it down.
Behind them, the screams from the memorial had grown muffled. Looking back, she saw orange light flicker on the slate walkway.
Her hands shook harder, this time joined by a wracking, strangled sob from her throat.
It had been so easy.
Her throat closed. Hugging herself, she turned back to Jo, who was already interrogating the man, and tried to focus on her words.
“Who do you work for?” Jo was saying.
The soldier’s face was red, pieces of his cheeks rising in painful bubbles. Smoke still rose from his uniform, making a haze in the air around him that was visible against the hallway’s light-colored walls and floor. He stared at Mieshka, eyes wide.
“Burn unit’s going to be full tonight,” Jo remarked, her voice dangerous as she followed his gaze to Mieshka. “But I’m sure she could fit you in.”
The man took her meaning.
“Cyprios Corp. They’re at Cyprios Corp.”
“Not what the other guy said,” Jo lied. “Maybe you don’t need your fingers. What do you think, Mieshka?”
What? Oh, Christ.
She did her best to steel herself, forcing her widened eyes to narrow as her mind scrambled through a hodgepodge of interrogation scenes she’d seen in movies and TV series.
“Maybe,” she squeaked.
The man’s eyes went wider.
“No, I’m telling the truth! Big, tall building—”
Jo didn’t even blink. “He right-handed or left-handed, do you think?”
“It’s on 21st! I can show you, please! I—”
“He held the gun with his right.” Jo’s voice was hard. “Could do it Yakuza style, joint by joint?”
“No!” He clutched his hands to his chest—which might not have been the best idea, since Mieshka was threatening to set them on fire.
“I think he’s telling the truth,” Mieshka said.
“I am!”
“Yep.” Jo sidelined him with the butt of her gun. He slumped further down the wall.
Standing, Jo fixed her with a look.
“You okay?”
Mieshka turned her face away. The screams behind them had stopped, but she didn’t want to think too hard about the low, painful sounds that had replaced them. Her vision blurred, and she tightened her hand into a fist, feeling the fire inside her. A tear streaked down her cheek.
“They’re still burning.”
Jo’s eyes softened. She took Mieshka’s shoulder and led her back.
“It’s okay. You can fix that.”
Darkness fell over them. Mieshka caught the scent of smoke. As they walked up the entrance hallway, Jo squeezed her shoulder. “I’m right here.”
They turned the corner. Mieshka pulled up short.
The memorial looked preternatural. Clumps of fire clung to the floor in haphazard burns, and the outer pillars were half-silhouetted against the dim, flickering orange light of other fires in the outer rim. Downed men lay still on the floor, most not moving, but motion caught her eye by the fountain, where the smarter soldiers had gone to douse themselves.
There wasn’t much to put out. With a quiet thought, and a small gesture from her hand, she snuffed the fires that still burned on people.
A sick feeling rose in her stomach as she surveyed the scene.
I did this.
One of the closest soldiers noticed them by the door. He raised a gun, his expression slipping to a mix of pain, fear, and panic.
Jo shot him. Mieshka felt the recoil smash through her where the woman held her arm. The man fell with a yell.
“Anyone else?” Jo asked, her sarcasm echoing in the room. “Throw your weapons in the middle and line up against the fountain.”
By the time Buck arrived, there was a pile of guns, grenades, and knives. Jo helped him drag the other three around.
Mieshka stood in front of the burnt soldiers, hugging herself. Buck raised an eyebrow when he saw her.
“You okay?”
No, Mieshka thought. She didn’t say anything. He nodded. Maybe he’d seen somethin
g in her face.
Jo strutted up the line, twirling a confiscated knife in her fingers.
“Took you long enough. Let’s go.”
Chapter 31
It took twenty minutes for Ian and Robin to wind their way back to the underground city’s tight, narrow alleys to the Core, and another ten to reach what appeared to be the city’s designated organization hub—an old, half-buried brick structure with a squat façade that rose in a wall of red masonry and gray concrete fixes. As they approached, he made a gesture to the front, where people strode in and out of a set of permanently-open double-doors, the yellow light from within illuminating bare off-white walls and a utilitarian design.
“We’ve actually made contact with your friend—or, well, the people who are with her.”
Ian was part of a group bulletin that had been giving him updates. In the short time it had taken them to make the walk, Meese had been re-found and semi-rescued, had gone back with the Fire Mage’s team, and had located the crystals. Now, apparently, they were exchanging phone calls.
“They’re setting up a raid on the facility that took her,” he continued. “They think the Mages are in it. And the crystals.”
She wasn’t sure which of those were more important, and her mind spun a little at the sheer speed things were happening. All she had been doing was walking.
“So… does that mean the shield’s still down?”
Ian gave her a grim look. “Yes. For now.”
“And you’re not sure if the crystals are actually in the building?”
“No, we’re sure. Well, your friend is sure, and apparently, she’s doing something magic to be sure, so…”
Right. Meese. Magic. The two were going hand in hand, these days.
“But, if something were to happen to the crystals before you could get to them, wouldn’t the shield still be fucked? I mean…” She lifted her hands, palms out. “Just saying—if I were an evil asshole hell-bent on capturing the city and winning the war, I’d definitely be taking a hammer to them or something.”
“I think it takes something a bit more complicated than hammers to destroy a crystal,” Ian said. “Plus, they’re quite valuable.”
“Right. Well.” She turned her gaze back to the building’s entrance. “You guys got enough people for this raid? Aren’t you going up against a bunch of enemy soldiers?”