Set Ablaze

by Teyla Branton

  “I left a motorcycle half a mile from the house, but in the other direction, on the way to town.” Even as I spoke, I didn’t know if she could make it that far fast enough to stay ahead of them.

  “Let’s backtrack and then circle around for it. We might be able to temporarily throw them off our trail.”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” I held up my hands. “Let’s make a distraction.”

  She nodded. “Okay, wait until I tell you.”

  “Yes, boss,” I mocked, but without any bite in the words. Her guess would be more accurate than anything I could come up with.

  We retraced our steps until we could hear the men moving through the brush, then we angled off to the left. We’d stumbled along exactly two minutes in the new direction when she stopped us. “Here. Do it here.”

  Releasing her, I squatted and rubbed my hand over some brush, dry from a long hot summer. In seconds, the heat transferred and the vegetation burst into flames. A bit of fire raced up my arm, singeing the hair, but I rubbed it out and repeated the process on the next clump of bushes, working in a line. Flames crackled, gobbling up the dry patches first before spreading to the greener bushes and trees.

  Kenna touched my shoulder. “Enough.”

  Right. The flames were moving in all directions, coming dangerously closer. I put an arm around her and we ran.

  Her leg seemed less numb now as the drugs worked through her body, but that meant more pain, and all this running was only making her wounds worse. My own arm and shoulder throbbed and there was enough blood that I’d need to tie it up soon. My shirt would do the trick for both of us once we got a chance to stop.

  The end of the trees came sooner than expected. Smoke filled our lungs, making it difficult to breathe, but my anxiety lessened when I spied the old man’s motorcycle behind the tree where I’d abandoned it. Ripping off my shirt, now damp with sweat, I handed it to Kenna and dug for the keys in my pocket. Blood dripped down my arm to the ground, and shaking was already setting in. For the first time in a very long time I didn’t have my pack or any curequick with me. My mouth went dry at the thought.

  Wordlessly, Kenna ripped my shirt, tying a folded strip around my upper arm. I tore off another strip and fastened it around the blood seeping from her arm. Already I could see pink skin eating away at the edges of her burn on the same limb, but the healing wasn’t coming fast enough for either of us.

  She mounted the bike, taking control, and I climbed on behind her. Kenna’s faster reflexes made her the best choice for driving, while I could cover us with the gun I’d taken from the villa.

  On the dirt road, out of the trees, we were a clear target, but we reached the end of the road without incident and turned onto the paved one, heading out of town. Part of me regretted the choice to run from the Emporium agents, even while I knew it was the only responsible option. We had to regroup and decide what to do. Since we’d been compromised, I suspected Kenna would make the call to retreat and wait for backup, no matter how she felt about it personally.

  It wasn’t a terrible decision. While our mission hadn’t exactly been a success, we had an idea of what we were up against, and our Renegade cell could make an intelligent decision about how to proceed. Even if the Emporium took all their research and began again elsewhere, they no longer had the element of secrecy.

  The downside was that we still didn’t have a clear idea of what the Emporium was doing here or why this area was so important to them. Without knowing more about their experiments, we might not be able to help the townspeople who were already damaged. Understanding what was in the food and how long the townspeople had consumed it would make it easier to stop the progression and possibly reverse the damage. It would also help us know what to look for the next time the Emporium set up shop to experiment on mortals.

  Thoughts banged around inside my brain, pushing to be heard, but that contrasted with the surprisingly pleasant fragrance of Kenna’s pinned hair and the feel of her body in front of me. Between her closeness and the pain, I could barely think.

  As if on some sort of signal, Kenna eased off the gas. I scanned both sides of the road in search of what she must have spotted, but we were alone. She shifted into neutral with her bad leg and cut the engine altogether, her body tensing in reaction from the movement. We hurtled forward for another half minute before coming to a stop at the side of the road.

  “What is it?” I asked, putting my feet down on either side of the bike to balance it, not trusting her leg.

  “I think I see something up ahead.” She reached into the pocket of her shorts for the small set of binoculars she’d used earlier. The idea of her hidden pockets brought me a sliver of hope. Maybe she had more curequick.

  “Yeah,” she said, peering through them. “Two trucks parked across the road. A car too. Can’t see how many men, but I’m betting they’re Emporium.” She smacked the gasoline tank. “I bet they have all the roads covered. And any other likely exit points. No easy way for us to get out of town. Looks like we’ve made right bags of this op.”

  Meaning we’d messed up. She was right about that, but testing the populace and the produce in the fields would reveal a lot, so maybe we’d done enough.

  Or maybe that was my need for curequick talking.

  “We just need to stay clear until Greggor realizes we’ve missed our report and sends backup,” I told Kenna. I wasn’t sure who he could send, but we had enough Renegade allies in Europe that he would manage to round up an able crew.

  Scowling, she offered me the binoculars, then swung her good leg over the motorbike and stood a bit awkwardly, still holding onto one handlebar. “They’re looking this way, but I don’t think they’ve identified us yet. Must have heard the motorbike. We can hide in the trees until we decide what to do.”

  I knew she was waiting for me to move the bike, but I was staring at the familiar orange car in front of the trucks. The bubble-fronted vehicle was parked askew in the middle of the right lane, as if halted abruptly. It didn’t look like anyone was inside.

  One of the men broke away from the others and started toward us. Time to go.

  I returned Kenna’s binoculars and began pushing the motorbike into the trees. They’d be able to track us if they looked hard enough, but given the distance, they might assume we’d driven back the way we’d come. If it came to it, I could always start another fire to mask our trail.

  “We might not be the only ones they’re preventing from leaving,” I said to Kenna. “Remember Dona Mafalda’s daughter? That little orange car looks exactly like hers. You think they stopped her because the guy following me saw us talking?”

  “Maybe, but if it’s only about keeping everyone here, why not just make her turn around? Why is the car still there?”

  I had no answer except that Brigida had probably put up some kind of fuss about not being allowed to leave, and the Emporium hadn’t reacted well.

  My fault. I should have soothed Brigida’s worries, not asked questions that emphasized them. For all I knew, she and her family were lying dead on the floor of that car. Except there was no obvious damage to the vehicle—and the Emporium had never been known for “neat” kills.

  Kenna let out a sigh. “The way they’ve come at us, I don’t think the Emporium is going to back down. Even if they catch us, they know it won’t be long until our people come to find out what happened.”

  A thought stopped the reply on my lips. “That old guy in the park? He knew the agent I killed would regenerate.”

  “So the Emporium hasn’t been careful about hiding their abilities.” Kenna’s voice betrayed her anger. “That means they don’t intend to leave. No wonder they’ve locked down the city. My guess is they’ll either fortify the town with more agents so we can’t get close, or they’ll destroy the entire town.”

  Leaving no witnesses, and no people or crops to test.

  I’d fought against the Emporium long enough to know their methods, but shock struck me anyway at her words. The
people in this town were my kinsfolk. Mine. And this was my fight.

  I took a steadying breath before saying, “The daughter knows something’s going on here, and she was vocal about it. She had two kids with her.” In my mind, I could still see the girl, her hand lifted in a trusting wave. The thought that she might never go home to her father, that she’d likely not survive the coming battle, made me ill.

  Kenna gave me a sympathetic glance. “I was hoping the agents would be slow to realize the threat, but it seems I underestimated them.”

  “We can’t let this happen,” I said. “Those townspeople are like children themselves.”

  “You know the protocol. We don’t have a choice. I’m sorry.”

  I knew she was.

  We stumbled through the increasingly dense foliage, mostly bushes and an occasional olive or oak tree. We couldn’t see the road now, so this was as good a place as any to stop and talk.

  The faint sound of a siren reached our ears. “Looks like they’re responding to the fire at least,” Kenna said. “That’s a sign they’ll be fighting for control of the town, not running.”

  “In the end, it’ll all be the same to the people.”

  “I know.”

  I came to a stop and faced her. “I have to go back.”

  “No you don’t.”

  “I can’t let them hurt those kids. Or the town.”

  She stared at me for a long moment as the darkness pressed in around us, her face only half lit by the overhead moon. Being a combat Unbounded, she had final say in our tactics, but I was going whether she agreed or not. Finally, she said, “You’re a good man, Blaze Vincent.”

  I wasn’t so sure of that, but I’d be damned if I’d stand by in relative safety while Dona Mafalda’s family was being held somewhere by the Emporium because of their connection to me. These people were simple country folk, and the Emporium had no business messing in their lives.

  “I’ll cause more distractions,” I told Kenna. “That’ll keep them busy until you can contact Greggor and arrange backup. That way the Emporium won’t have time to plan a resistance.” I extracted my phone from my pocket, showing her the passcode that would open it without triggering the self-destruct. “Even if you can’t make it to a place where you have service, Greggor should still be able to track your chip once they get close enough. Then you can all come for me. I’ll meet you here, if I can.”

  Kenna pocketed my phone with barely a glance. “I’m going with you.”

  If the situation were reversed, I’d never let her go alone either, but this was my element. I’d successfully completed many similar ops. Going in as a distraction while the rest of the group carried out the real mission. Blocking the fear with swigs of curequick, not really caring what happened to me. Maybe even hoping, just a little, that the end would come swiftly.

  I forced a smile. “We could both get caught.”

  She swallowed hard, and for a moment I was distracted by the motion of her throat and by the expression in her eyes. I wanted to kiss her, to trace her throat with my mouth, to taste her lips. Maybe she’d even let me.

  No. I wouldn’t try. The bullet wound and my body’s struggle to repair the damage had increased my ever-present desire for curequick, and the yearning made me unsteady. The fear the curequick buzz normally kept in check careened rampant through my brain like some kind of crazy game of table tennis. She’d feel that I wasn’t okay if I got close. She’d remember what kind of man I really was.

  Kenna’s face was unyielding. “We’re partners. Together we have a better chance of finding what we came for—and more chance of getting away if we get caught.”

  Partners. We were that. I felt it as I hadn’t with anyone else for years. “Okay.”

  We trudged back through the trees with the motorcycle, angling farther down the road in the direction of the villa. Kenna seemed to be walking with more ease now, which boded well for our new focus.

  A cloud drifted over the moon, plunging us into darkness. Still, I saw her in my mind, the length of her throat, her eyes delving into mine. Tomorrow, maybe I’d kiss her.

  If either of us were still alive.

  ALREADY I WAS PUSHING BACK the jitters that tempted me to curl up on the ground and howl like some rabid dog. So far, we hadn’t run into any sign that we’d been pursued, but I was beginning to worry about how we’d get to Dona Mafalda and her family.

  “The Emporium could be keeping them anywhere,” I said. “If they’ve taken them.” There was a chance they hadn’t, but only a very slim one because of the abandoned car.

  Kenna’s head shifted in my direction, though I couldn’t make out her features. “The only area we’ve seen them guarding is the compound near the vineyard. I’d say that’s the best place to start. It’s probably also where they’re keeping their records.” Kenna might care about helping me find Dona Mafalda’s family, but her mention of the records told me she also hoped to complete our original mission.

  Getting to the Emporium’s compound meant at least a mile to town and another few miles beyond. With my wounds, walking was torture, and I suspected Kenna was experiencing a similar pain. Using the motorcycle might be worth the risk of the Emporium hearing us, but the basket made it impossible to drive through the trees, unless we traveled close to the road where the vegetation was sparse. Closer to the road was infinitely more dangerous.

  I could remove the basket, but there was only one way to do that without tools, and that included the possibility of exploding the gas tank and ruining our only means of transportation. If only I weren’t shaking so badly.

  “We’re wasting time,” Kenna said, apparently coming to the same decision. She stopped walking and went down on her good knee. “You can melt the bolts holding this basket, right? Without blowing it up?” Trust her to get right to the point.

  “Maybe. You have any curequick?” I hated to ask.

  A quick shake of her head. “All back at the villa. I gave you the only pouch I had on me.”

  “Right.” Forcing a smile, I squatted and peered under the motorcycle. Steady, I thought, reaching out a finger to the first of the four huge nuts. It melted without incident, followed by the second.

  I was reaching for the third when a sudden crack of a branch made me careless, and the nut melted in a rush, liquefying also the bolt and the metal plates protecting the wicker, and leaving a fist-size hole in the basket itself. So much for my promise to the old man.

  “This way! I hear something!” a voice called. Maybe in English or German—I was in too much of a hurry to do anything more than understand the meaning. Definitely not Portuguese.

  Kenna drew her gun, placing her body between me and the voices. Leaving the last nut intact, I jumped on the motorcycle and started the engine. Kenna hopped on behind me, one hand wrapping around my bare chest as I popped the clutch, almost throwing us off the seat with the abruptness. The basket bounced, sending the three loose bolts flying.

  I caught a glimpse of two men and assault rifles in my peripheral vision. I pushed harder on the gas, hurtling us forward through the trees. The basket twisted to the side, slamming into a tree and then back again.

  Shots rang out after us, and Kenna fired back, emptying her entire magazine before turning to reload. The gun was one an Emporium agent had dropped at the villa and the magazine was different from her own, so she couldn’t just slam in a new one from her endless pockets. By the time she’d reloaded the magazine, the men were long behind us.

  I headed for the open road, urging the old bike to its limit, the engine screaming under the strain. The horizon in the direction of the villa was aglow, but not raging, so they must have the blaze under control. I was glad for that; I didn’t want to hurt any of the Portuguese residents.

  The expectation of seeing headlights from an Emporium truck behind us was so great it was almost a relief when they finally appeared. I was nearly at the town, which was strangely deserted, though everyone must have heard the fire engines. I drove into a
n alley and out the other side, losing the black truck but running into another one two streets later.

  I screeched to a sliding stop, turning as we skidded toward the truck. Shots fired from the windows, one ricocheting off the gas tank. The basket, still attached by that one bolt, jerked to one side and back again. Kenna let off only one return shot this time, apparently preserving ammunition.

  Tearing down another alley, we came out just in front of a third truck. They were closing in on us now. More shots had me ducking and tensing for a possible impact.

  If they caught us, they would kill us—but not permanently. Not yet. I would only wish they had. No, they’d torture us for information and breed us for our talents. Keep us in a locked cell for decades or centuries until they had no use for us. Then they would chop us up, severing the three focus parts of our bodies. A final death.

  Neither of us would go easily. Kenna let off another shot, blowing a tire on the truck behind us.

  Only two more streets. There. I could see the end of the town. If I could make it to the countryside, the trucks wouldn’t be able to follow so fast through the trees, and we might stand a chance of reaching our target. One truck was still hot on our tail, and I glimpsed another on a parallel road through the side streets. To my left, the swift river and the three-foot wall bordering it cornered me every bit as much as the trucks.

  But the way in front was still clear.

  Then it wasn’t. A dark truck squealed to block the end of the street, men with rifles piling from the back. No way could we run that gauntlet. I had my gun, and Kenna had whatever bullets were left in hers, but they would be useless against so many.

  That left only one option.

  I swerved sharply to the right and then to the left, gunning the engine. Kenna’s hands dug into my sides. Seconds seemed to turn into minutes as we careened toward the short wall that bordered the river. With a sickening screech, metal ground into concrete. The impact sent us flying up, up, and over—into the rushing water. The bike stayed behind on the road, but the wicker basket, finally shaken loose, came splashing into the water after us.