The concentrated cyclone of air lifted him off his feet and sent him flying. He felt his body twisting. He heard screaming as people scattered. He saw the palm tree he was about to hit headfirst and knew it was going to fracture his skull.
…But, somehow it didn’t.
The tree seemed to move at the last second. Sullivan had no idea how, but he missed it. He hit the ground twenty feet from where he’d started, but without a snapped neck. He didn’t believe in miracles, either, but the physics of that near-miss seemed impossible. It was like the tree just shifted out of the way for him. It was definitely weird.
At the moment, though, he had bigger problems than vanishing vegetation. Swearing fluidly, he pushed himself up onto his elbows and already knew that this was the Cult’s fault.
“Hand it over, human!” A male voice bellowed. “You know you can’t win this.”
Christ, he hated it when they called him “human.”
Sullivan’s world was still spinning as a pair of gigantic hands seized him. A monstrous Cult member dragged him to his feet. Since Sullivan topped out at just over six and a half feet, he was used to being the biggest guy in the room. Whoever this Cult member was, he had Sullivan beat. The guy was like a giant on steroids. His blonde hair was shaved into a Mohawk, except for the yellow streak at his temple. Dressed in black and grinning at the havoc he’d caused, he tossed Sullivan backwards like a sack of flour.
“Don’t bother fighting, because you can’t win, boy.” The guy taunted as Sullivan hit the sand, for the second time. “Just give me the box and live to lose another day.”
Box? This was about that rumor Randa had been talking about? Someone actually believed that shit?
“Are you fucking stupid?” Sullivan got out, standing up, again.
The guy obviously didn’t like that question. He let loose another volley of air. It hit Sullivan’s chest like a cannon and he skidded across the beach, wondering if his ribs had just cracked.
“Son-of-a-bitch.” He glared at Mr. Mohawk, his hand going to his injured side. “That’s it. You are under a-goddamn-rrest, asshole.” He staggered to his feet yet again, because Sullivan had never known when to stay down. No matter how stupid it was, he always kept fighting.
The guy gave a slow smile as Sullivan faced him. “I kinda hoped you’d be warrior. It just makes this more fun.”
“No!” A woman ran forward, looking panicked. “Stop!”
A couple months before, she’d introduced herself to Sullivan as “Hadlyn Red-Cloud. The Cult seemed to favor names plagiarized from the American West. Hallie was one of the more persistent weirdoes shadowing him. Last week, she’d offered to buy him an airplane in exchange for going out to dinner with her. Sullivan had turned it down, but she still wasn’t giving up. Like a lot of Cult members, she kept asking him out, no matter how many times he locked her up for stalking.
As a group, they weren’t great at taking hints.
“Sax, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She shrieked. “Job said Sullivan was to be protected and you know it. Haven’t you Air Phases done enough damage without you hurting…?”
“I don’t give a shit what Job says!” The giant named Sax interrupted. “And I’ve been Banished by the pussies in the Air House, so I don’t give a shit about them, either. As for you and the Weather Phases, you need to go back to planning afternoon showers and stay out of my way, Hallie. I’m finally going to get the power I deserve and no one will stop me. Not you and not him.” He jabbed a finger at Sullivan. “This filthy primate is going to give me what I want or I’ll break every bone in his body. So, fuck off unless you want the same.”
“He could be someone’s Match, you idiot!” Hadlyn insisted. “Parson was his grandfather. He’s the best hope we have of…”
“Hallie, get away from him.” Sullivan interrupted and pulled his gun free. Actually, it wasn’t his gun. It was the one he’d found hidden at the small of his back that morning he’d woken up on his front lawn. From the position of it in his waistband, Sullivan had known he was the one who’d put it there, but damn if he could remember where it had come from. It had to be some kind of Cult weapon. “Sir, I’m going to ask you nicely to get on the ground and put your hands behind your back.”
Sax made an incredulous sound. “Or what? You’ll shoot me?” He gave the universal “Ooooh, I’m so scared” face that all ten year old boys mastered on the playground. Whatever the gun was, he obviously didn’t recognize it as a threat. “Do you really not understand what I am, human? Do you really think a bullet will work on an Elemental?”
“Let’s just say, I’ve been anticipating for an opportunity to find out.” Instinctively, Sullivan knew that the gun was dangerous to them. It was why he’d hung onto it. Sullivan didn’t trust anyone else, but he always trusted his instincts.
Sax spread his arms and kept coming closer. “Do it, then. I dare you.” He smirked. “You’re a dirty mongrel, but there’s Wood Phase in your DNA someplace. I’ll give a chance to prove you come from real warriors, before I beat you down.”
Sullivan’s eyes flicked passed him, counting six other Cult members with yellow streaks at their temples moving into position to back Sax up. At least, he thought they were yellow. Maybe they were a pastel green. Whatever color their hair was, the men were all on the same team and it sure wasn’t his.
“I don’t have your box.” He reported, because always liked to give folks one last chance not to be morons. “And I don’t want to fight you. Stand down.”
They clearly didn’t share his desire for peace. Another blond man came stalking closer, his face set in determined lines.
“Yasil, don’t!” Hallie shouted as the guy advanced. “Sullivan’s the only male half-breed that we know of. He’s priceless.”
“Not to me he’s not.”
Sullivan swiveled the gun to sight on the blond man, his ribs aching and his head swimming. “I don’t want to fight you,” he repeated calmly, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t kill you.”
The guy actually laughed. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, human, if you think that little gun will…”
Wham!
Three more Cult members arrived, appearing beside Sullivan.
One of them he recognized as Alder I-Don’t-Have-A-Last-Name-Because-I’m-Alder-Of-The-Fire House. Sullivan had locked that guy up so many times, he’d briefly considered hiring him as the station’s receptionist. If Alder was going to be there anyway, he might as well answers the phones and make himself useful.
For once, Sullivan was glad to see the freak.
Alder was Teja’s nephew. Logic told him that he was better off forgetting she even existed, but his feelings didn’t agree. Those same damn whispers that kept him alive when disaster struck, sparked to life whenever he thought of that annoying woman. He had no idea why. It was like she was key to his survival, as far as they were concerned. His instincts growled in satisfaction because his link to Teja was back.
If he had Alder, Teja would eventually appear. Locking up her relatives was the best way to draw her out of hiding. Sullivan had done it before and he could do it, again. The downside of the plan was he had to spend time with Alder.
“Hi ya, Sully.” Alder said causally. He looked like the kind of guy who whiled away his days in motorcycle bars, getting gangland tattoos and committing murder-for-hire. “Take a step to the left, will ya?”
Sullivan barely had time to shift out of the way before a rush of fire burst forward like a flamethrower. It went blazing passed him, so hot he was surprised the sand didn’t turn to glass. Sullivan cringed at the grisly sounds of at least two of his attackers being broiled alive.
Jesus, the paperwork on this was going to be a nightmare.
The other four guys rallied quickly, racing towards Alder and wielding their swords. Sullivan felt as if he’d been transported into a George R.R. Martin novel, where knights were questing for an iron throne. Apparently used to the insane, Alder and the other two
newcomers took on the Hollywood stunt team of “Air Phases” like it was no big deal. All four of the yellow haired attackers were on the ground before Sullivan could even blink. His eyes stayed fixed on Yasil, who was groaning in pain.
Holy shit.
Barely winded from the fight, Alder kept talking like this was any other Friday. “So, these are my parents, Djinn and Pele.” He told Sullivan as if they were all meeting at Starbucks. “Dad is Teja’s cousin. They’re like siblings.” He leaned closer to Sullivan and lowered his voice. “FYI: Dad doesn’t really approve of you, so try to be less human-y and more likable, okay?”
Sullivan ignored that. The other two weirdoes looked like Alder. They both had exotic features and red stripes at their temples. (Or possibly green.) But there was no way they could be Alder’s parents. They were maybe five years older than the guy.
Sullivan’s eyes caught Djinn’s. Something in the way the man stood there screamed, “Hi, I’m the perpetrator of a tri-state crime-spree. Wanna buy a spleen?” His dark hair was combed back from his forehead, desperado-style; his massive body a WrestleMania event waiting to happen.
“So you’re Teja’s human, huh?” Djinn looked Sullivan over with arrogant menace and snorted in derision. “Well, that explains why she’s avoiding you.”
Sullivan’s eyes narrowed.
The woman named Pele, who must’ve given birth to Alder when she was in kindergarten, made a considering sound. She was tall, with an athletic build and dark ponytail. Leaning against her sword like it was a cane, she studied Sullivan as if he was an exhibit in a zoo. “The boy is sorta pretty, D.” There was nothing but clinical interest in her voice.
The Texas Chainsaw Massacre refugee grunted. “Yeah, he’s just beautiful.” Djinn drawled. “Still not good enough for my cousin, though.” He spun the sword around in his hand, so the steel glinted in the sunlight. The very casualness of the motion would have sent anyone with half a brain running for their lives.
Too bad for him, Sullivan had never been good at backing down. His father had taught him that running was pointless. He raised his gun so it was centered on Djinn. “I’m gonna hafta ask to see some ID and for all of you to drop your blades. Now.”
If it was possible to look more unimpressed than the most unimpressed person in the universe had ever looked… Djinn achieved it.
Alder quickly weighed in. “Not to sound all ‘your puny weapons are useless against us.’ But, let’s face it… they are.” He told Sullivan. “Just stand over there and let us handle the Air Phases, okay? He looked over at Sax. “Now, what the fuck are you doing coming after our human?”
“You think I’m afraid of you assholes?” Sax seethed. “Huh?! I’ll end all of you right here, if you get in my way.”
“Alder, stay away from him.” Sullivan ordered. They might have won round one, but the rest of these jokers weren’t retreating. The ones who were still breathing, anyway. Sax looked especially pissed. Loudmouth punk or not, Sullivan didn’t want Teja’s nephew hurt.
Alder disregarded Sullivan’s order and stalked across the beach towards the huge maniac threatening to kill him. “Well, one of us is about to die, that’s for sure.” Much like his “father” had, he gave his sword a practiced twirl that promised death and pain. “Powers or blades, Saxon? You pick. Either way, I’m going to win, so it’s really just about choosing how bloody you want you die.”
Pele didn’t seem to notice her “son” threatening to dismember a man. “No wonder all the unMatched women have been so excited about meeting you, Sullivan.” She leaned in closer, obviously wanting to poke at him in scientific curiosity. “Even though you’re mostly just a human, you do have a lovely scar.” She mused. “The Wood House has always bred warriors, though, so I’m not surprised. They’re dull as hell, with their moralizing and rule-following, but they put up some decent fights. Good to know you have some of that spunk in you.”
Sullivan’s jaw tightened. Most people weren’t ballsy enough to say anything about the scar. Not where he could hear them, anyway. The raised, concentric circles radiated over the left side of his face, dominating his features. He wasn’t sure if Pele was just dumb as a brick, utterly insensitive, or being a bitch.
Meanwhile, Sax seemed to be having second thoughts about the whole “challenging the lunatics” thing. Alder wasn’t abandoning the offensive and his “father” was right there beside him. Teja’s family must have had a reputation straight out of a Scorsese film, because Sax tried to backpedal in the face of their wrath.
“Hang on.” The Air Phase held up his palms, adopting a different tactic. “Let’s see if we can make a deal, before everything goes nuts here, alright? No sense in killing each other over a human. None of us wants more violence.”
“The Fire House doesn’t make deals.” Djinn retorted without a drop of emotion. “And we always want more violence.”
“Mister, don’t make a bad situation worse.” Sullivan warned. “It would make my holiday bright to lock you up, too. Shut-up and surrender your weapons. Now.”
Everyone ignored that.
“I can take you guys.” Since Teja’s family wasn’t going to compromise, Sax switched to threats, again. “The Fire House hasn’t been the same since Oberon died. Missy’s gone nutty. Qadesh is mostly feral. Who the hell knows where Satour is most days. Hope Phazed with that fucking dragon. Teja’s falling apart.”
Sullivan looked at him sharply.
“Everyone heard what she tried to do after the Fall.” Sax continued, relentlessly. “Teja’s all that holds you together and she’s broken.” He shook his head. “Your House isn’t as strong as it used to be, Djinn. We all know it.” His colorless blue eyes narrowed. “None of you can stop me.”
Sullivan felt some kind of energy drag towards the guy. The same kind of energy that had slammed into Sullivan like a wrecking ball.
Alder gave a slow smile of anticipation.
Goddamn it. Sullivan reached for his zip-cuffs before there was more bloodshed under the town Christmas tree. “That’s it. I’m arresting all of you.”
Pele actually laughed. “Yeah, that kind of humoring-the-humans thing might fly with the Water Phases, but we’re not feeling so charitable. You’re not arresting anyone. Just let us kill this asshat and then give us the box. It’s too dangerous for you to have it.”
Sometime Sullivan wondered if the Cult even knew how to speak in sentences filled with words that made sense. “What box?! Ya know what? It doesn’t even matter. All of you put your hands behind your heads.” He started for Djinn, because he seemed like the most dangerous guy present. In fact, the smart money was on Djinn being the most dangerous guy in the contiguous United States. “I am so sick of you weirdoes weirding around my town. Do I have to read you your rights, or do you have them memorized at this point in your criminal career?”
Djinn squinted at the zip-cuffs like Sullivan had lost his mind. “You’re not putting me in fucking plastic restraints!”
“Wanna bet?”
Yasil used their distraction to rush forward.
The guy pulled himself to his feet and came charging at Alder from behind. His pale eyes glowed with hatred. His sword was hefted over his head, ready to strike a killing blow.
Sullivan shot him.
He didn’t even think about it. He just saw a threat and he reacted. When Sullivan pulled a trigger, he always hit what he was aiming at and, when he aimed, it was always a kill shot. He’d been an Army Ranger for eight years and the training never left him. Even using an unfamiliar weapon, his bullet slammed into Yasil’s forehead, directly between his eyes.
Pele sent him a mystified look. “Really?” She asked in a skeptical tone. “A gun?”
Sax gave a contemptuous snort. “Moronic human. I told you it was pointless to…”
He broke off, his whole face going pale as he watched Yasil fall. With a deathly wheeze, the wounded man went slack. As if Yasil was a puppet and someone had just cut all his strings, his body collapsed. He tum
bled to the ground in an uncoordinated heap and lay there, ominously still.
All around them, the other Cult members froze in shock.
Pele’s eyebrows rose.
Alder whispered a convoluted stream obscenities.
Djinn’s head slowly swiveled to look at Sullivan, his gaze no longer mocking.
Hallie gaped down at Yasil’s body. “He’s dead.” She blurted out.
“I know.” Sullivan said flatly. “I warned him.”
Everyone on the beach stared at Sullivan like he’d turned into the Incredible Hulk right before their eyes. Several people stepped away from him in fear. Others shook their heads in denial. Some looked furious. Some looked thrilled. Some dialed their phones, reporting the news to their weirdo ranks as fast as they could.
Sax and his remaining men fled, grabbing their dead and injured friends and vanishing.
Sullivan was relieved to see them go. He had feeling the medical examiner would have a field day with Yasil’s autopsy. God only knew how many lungs and kidneys mutants had. Besides, no body meant he didn’t have to try and explain exactly what had happened to the mayor.
Which was good, because he had no idea what exactly had happened.
…Except that he’d shot a man.
Sullivan didn’t like shooting people. Even people who weren’t really human. But he was a pragmatic guy and, the way he saw it, he hadn’t had much of a choice. It was his job to protect and Alder had needed protection.
Besides, Alder was Teja’s family. As much as he tried not to think about her, it was hard to forget the most beautiful woman you’d ever almost slept with. Teja would be heartbroken if her dimwitted nephew was harmed and all Sullivan’s instincts screamed to keep Teja from being hurt. At his very deepest level, he knew he’d keep her safe, no matter what the costs. Because she was his.
Even though she wasn’t.
Annoyed at the world, Sullivan turned back to the shocked Cult members who were goggling at him. It wasn’t worth trying to take their statements, since the whole story would read like a comic book. “I’ve got more bullets.” He told them. “Go home.”
Magic of the Wood House Page 3