Abel and Detective Evans rushed to keep up with me, and I glanced at Abel over my shoulder. “Sorry. This is more important.”
“Totally understandable. I’m going to canvass the neighborhood around where the body was found.” He looked at Detective Evans. “If you want to come, feel free to do so.”
Detective Evans looked distracted, probably still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the dog I’d seen actually had been the murderer and could turn into a human. “Yes, I’ll come.”
Once at home, I pulled the emergency light from where I kept it under my seat, attaching it to the roof of my car and feeding the wire through the window to the cigarette lighter. As soon as it was plugged in, it started flashing, and I waved goodbye to the men before pulling out of the driveway.
As I was getting on the freeway, I noticed a plume of smoke coming from the mountain just west of Utah Lake. How long had that been going? Usually, I was called in immediately for wildfires. I sighed. If they did call it in, today would end up being a very long day.
I’d been on the freeway for maybe twenty minutes when I saw a dog running along the frontage road that followed this part of the freeway. How could it possibly be running that fast? I gripped the steering wheel tighter, staring at the dog. It had to be the same one I’d been dealing with. Dark gray, sleek in the sunlight. Was it following me? How had it caught my scent? Even though I was already going twenty over the speed limit, I stepped my foot on the gas, pulling around slower cars, ignoring honks of irritation. Didn’t they see my emergency light? I really needed to have Chief install a siren on my car.
Eventually, the dog was unable to keep up with me anymore. I didn’t let off the gas, though. I was too rattled and didn’t want to risk having the thing follow me all the way up to the bank. Nothing like adding a dangerous demon to an already stressed situation.
I put on my headset, phoning the officer who had called me. “Where am I going?”
He rattled off the address and I pushed it into my GPS, taking the appropriate exit and still weaving my way through traffic. I knew that the address he’d given me was a rendezvous point—somewhere close to the crime scene, but not close enough for the perp to see me.
I parked my car, leaving the flashing light on top, and glanced around. Several cops were near the street, huddled around a map on top of an electrical box, pointing at different things on it. I joined them, showing my badge.
“You the Fire Impeder?” one of the cops asked.
I nodded. “Where’s the bank?”
He pointed at a spot. “Here. You tell me how close you need to be in order to stop his guns from firing.”
“How many guns are we talking about?”
He glanced at a female officer, and she said, “From what we can tell, he has three guns on him. He may have more hidden. Be prepared for anything.”
I looked back at the map. “Exactly where is he?”
The first officer pointed again. “We think he’s in this corner, close to the safe.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Almost two hours now. None of the bankers had access to the vault’s code. It’s a safety thing where the code changes every ten minutes, and only headquarters knows what those numbers are. We showed up right when headquarters got involved, and the man went berserk. Even if he gets what he wants, we’re not sure he’ll let the people go.”
“What’s happened so far?” The more I knew about the situation, the better I could handle anything that popped up.
The cop passed a hand across his face, obviously upset. “We’ve had one hostage killed. The man sent her body out, and is refusing to allow anyone their freedom until he gets what he wants.”
“Which is?”
“Thirty-one million dollars.”
I blinked. “Why not thirty million?” I wasn’t trying to be smart. Okay, maybe a little. But seriously, thirty-one is a random number. In my experience, most people went for multiples of five and ten.
“It’s the cost of a private island he wants to buy,” the woman said.
I couldn’t help but snort at that. “An island?”
She nodded. “It’s not under the jurisdiction of any government, and he says society owes it to him. Apparently, he’s tired of paying taxes and feels that the government should pay him back.”
“And he chose a bank?” I asked. “Doesn’t he know banks are privately owned and operated?” At least, that’s what they all said.
“He doesn’t seem to be very intelligent,” the woman said. “He chose Bank of America, thinking it was owned by the government.”
I shook my head. Ridiculous. “Okay, let’s get me in place.”
They outfitted me with a bulletproof vest in case anything happened, and I told them where to get me. Like with a bomb, I needed to be as close as possible. The science is pretty much the same. Spark ignites a combustible material, which produces a chain reaction with a loud bang at the end.
They put me outside the bank next to a brick wall without windows. I pressed against the wall, eyes closed, searching for the man and the guns he carried. I caught a scent of the powder inside the bullets and glanced at the cop. “Five. He has five guns.”
The woman nodded. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” As ready as I would be, though I didn’t say that.
The cop who called me started talking into his radio, issuing orders. I knew from experience that things could either get very ugly or it would all work out—the hostages would be released and the dirt bag arrested. And whether or not there were any injuries all depended on how I did my job.
Once the Fire Impeder arrived at a scene, the cops ran in, theoretically doing anything they needed to protect the innocent, including stopping the bad guy from throwing knives or punches.
I glanced at the nearest officer. “Just make sure he doesn’t move from wherever he is,” I said. Any farther away, and it would be dangerous for those inside. The only thing that didn’t require a close proximity on my part were open fires—and those were very difficult to fight. My thoughts went to that smoke I’d seen, and even though I knew I’d be exhausted after this, I hoped they didn’t put off calling me for too long.
I heard as the cops ran into the bank, shouting. Screams filled the air, and I did my best not to let them distract me.
The man pulled the triggers on two of the guns at once. The chain reactions started, and as with the bomb earlier, time seemed to slow. The hammer struck the primer, and the primer began to ignite the powder. The exact moment that happened, I snuffed out the spark.
Guns are difficult because of the things that happen behind a trigger pull—it requires a lot of energy to stop them.
The man pulled the trigger over and over again, and each time, I was ready. At first, I couldn’t tell if he was trying to shoot more than one gun, but then he pulled the trigger on one that was much larger than the others—these bullets were huge. It was so much more difficult to stop them, and it didn’t help that I was more tired now.
“Come on, guys, come on,” I whispered, gathering magic to myself as quickly as I could. I was running out of it.
The man pulled the trigger on this one several more times, and then everything stopped. The cops had him.
I slumped to the ground, exhausted.
The cop who’d stayed with me to assist in communications crouched next to me in concern. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head, face resting against the brick, my hand next to my head. I couldn’t sense anything. Not even the skin on my face knew what it was touching, beyond the fact that it was a solid material. The temperature was impossible to tell. It could have been boiling hot, for all I knew.
“Do you need anything?”
I shook my head again. “Just a moment or two of rest.”
The woman officer came outside, the expression on her face one of happiness and excitement. She crouched down beside me, next to the other cop.
“You did it!” she sai
d. “He was pulling those triggers so fast, I can’t believe only one of them actually went off. Very impressive.”
My eyes flashed open, and I stared at her. “One of them fired?” My mouth went dry, and my heart practically stopped beating.
The cop nodded, her excitement not dropping even a little. “Yes, but it didn’t hit anyone.”
I pulled away from the wall, sat cross-legged, and stared at her. “That doesn’t matter. One of the guns fired and I didn’t stop it or even know it had gone off. That’s not ‘doing it’! What would have happened if someone had gotten hit?”
She sobered, shaking her head. “You stopped over twenty bullets. How many lives did you save today? We’ll never know. And who else can say they stop bullets with their mind? Miss Ashton, you’re a hero, not a failure.”
My back was weak, my arms unable to hold themselves up anymore. I slumped against the brick wall, leaning my head back, closing my eyes. “I’m glad no one got hurt.”
By now, I was far too exhausted to function anymore. The cops left me where I was. I knew the silence wouldn’t last long, but I appreciated it for whatever amount of time I had it.
I heard shouting and opened my eyes, turning my head to see. Three cops were dragging a cuffed man out of the bank. One cop pushed from behind while the other two each held an arm. He was fighting as hard as he could, screaming about injustice and unfairness and robbery.
I shook my head. He was accusing the government of robbery, and he just tried to rob a bank? Idiot.
The officers shoved him into the back of a cop car, then drove him away. Once he was gone, the victims of the hostage situation were led out of the bank and lined up along the wall. They ignored me. It was a weird and good feeling, knowing I’d save their lives and they probably wouldn’t ever know it was me. Even the press that was rushing forward, cameras rolling, didn’t notice.
I was sure that if my hair was still red, some of them might have caught on. I have to admit, the recognition for a job well done was one of the things that drew me to this position. But now, after what I’d seen, I much preferred anonymity.
Several officers started taking statements and asking the hostages questions, and I decided it was time for me to man up, figuratively speaking, and get back home.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I stumbled to my feet, holding onto the wall for support. I still couldn’t feel the brick, but hoped it wouldn’t be much longer now. Bullets were easier to work with than outright flame, especially when the flame was magical, as I’d discovered with that burned body yesterday. I’d been completely without sensation for nearly an hour after putting out that fire. Yes, the guy just now had pulled the trigger several times, but it shouldn’t matter.
The woman officer must have seen me get up because she returned. “Thank you so much for your help,” she said in a whisper.
I nodded, grateful she understood my desire to remain anonymous. She escorted me back to my car, probably wanting to make sure I didn’t pass out or something. I appreciated it. When we got there, I asked if her chief would prefer a written invoice now, or one over email later.
“Go ahead and email it to him. Give yourself time to make sure you charge the right amount for your services today.”
I nodded, knowing what she was hinting at. He pulled the trigger twenty times. If he was even a partly decent shot, at least half of his bullets would’ve hit someone. Ten deaths that ten families wouldn’t need to mourn and ten funerals that ten families wouldn’t have to pay for. I had saved a lot more than just lives today.
I would still probably only charge a thousand dollars, though. I’d already done that job at the high school earlier, and my mortgage was paid for the next couple of months. I wouldn’t starve.
Thinking about food made me realize I needed to replenish my energy and visit the bathroom, and I carefully drove to the nearest fast food restaurant I could find—a Wendy’s. I went to the restroom first, noticing the dark lines under my eyes and the way my hair was now completely frizzed from leaning up against that brick wall. It took me a moment, but I undid the messy bun, quickly redoing it, hoping the back still looked okay. A hand-held mirror would have been nice. I used the restroom and washed my hands and face, appreciating the sensation of cold water on my skin. All of this meant I was recovering from stopping the bullets. Thank goodness.
I bought three singles with cheese and two orders of French fries, along with a tall cup of water. If the girl taking my order was surprised at how much food I’d ordered when I was obviously there alone, she didn’t say. Eating sometimes helped me stay ahead magically. My Arete abilities didn’t directly borrow energy from what I’d eaten, but the adrenaline after experiences like that was rough on the body. I don’t know how cops and other emergency personnel handle it on a daily basis.
I’d nearly finished the second cheeseburger when my phone rang. It was Chief Clarkson. Had they found another body?
“Miss Ashton, Unified Fire Authority just reported that we’ve got a wildfire on the mountain. Are you available to go check it out with them?”
I sighed in relief, grateful another innocent person hadn’t been attacked. “Yes, but I’m in Salt Lake. Let them know I’ll be on my way soon as possible.”
I grabbed the rest of my food and asked for a bag so I could take the food and eat on the way down. Three jobs in one week? Rare, very rare.
Most of the time, a wildfire would roar out of control in minutes, even seconds after starting. But every now and then, one would smolder and die out on its own or with very little intervention. The fact they hadn’t called me earlier suggested that they’d had it under control at some point.
It definitely wasn’t under control when I got there, and we ended up fighting it all night. I was exhausted, but I refused to stop when there was only one of me and when many of the firefighters had been there when I’d arrived.
Fighting a wildfire with magic was difficult. It involved a lot of predictions—figuring out where to put me so I’d have as good a chance as possible to stop the sparks. They always suited me up like the other firefighters, but even so, it was still hot, sweaty, difficult work.
This was one thing I hadn’t been trained on back east. Wildfires are much more common in the west, and I’d received a crash course the first summer I’d been here.
By the time we got things under control as much as possible, the sun was about to rise. I collapsed from physical exhaustion and needed help getting to my car.
The firemen who helped me wanted to call an ambulance, but I said no. I was physically exhausted, yes, but that would get resolved by eating and sleeping. Magical energy couldn’t be replenished by an IV. Instead of being a hero, though, I agreed to let one of them drive me home while another firefighter trailed us in my car.
They parked my car in the driveway, then both helped me inside the house. I collapsed on the couch and finished off the cold and limp French fries I’d bought at Wendy’s.
After twenty minutes of staring at the wall, working hard to keep my eyes open, I forced myself up. I had to shower before I could sleep—otherwise, the smell of smoke would wake me up before I’d gotten the rest I needed. And yes, I’d learned that from experience.
The shower was short, and I got into my pajamas, then fell into bed, my hair still wet. Cole had sent me a text and I told him I’d call him later, that I’d been out on jobs all day. Then I fell asleep.
When I woke up, the sun had already set, and my house was very dark. I rolled over and stretched, my hand touching the warm spot where Sia must’ve been sleeping. I sat up.
“Sia?” I called.
She poked her head into the room and meowed.
“You must be starving, poor thing.”
I headed to the kitchen and got her a can of cat food, then opened the fridge and looked at my options. None of them were very appealing and all required a lot of cooking, since I didn’t have any leftovers. I turned from the fridge, weighing my options, trying to exhib
it some self-control, especially since I’d already eaten out.
It didn’t take long to justify my way into ordering pizza. I’d been through quite a bit lately and deserved it.
While waiting for dinner to be delivered, I sat in the living room and turned on Jurassic World from the beginning, excited to watch dinosaurs terrorize innocent people. Regardless of how tough I had it, those people’s problems were still worse.
The pizza came fairly quickly, and I dug in. Sia jumped up on the couch next to me, and I petted her with the hand not covered in grease.
The lights and movie flickered, then came back to life. It didn’t faze me—flickering lights happen. But when they flickered again before going out completely, I stood and walked to the front door, peering out the window. The house across the street still had power.
I opened the door and stepped onto the porch, looking up and down the road. All the houses on the other side of the street and to my right had power. Mine and the Russells’ houses and one other beyond the Russells’ didn’t. Weird.
As I watched, the house two doors down from mine got power again, and the house to my right lost theirs. I turned and looked toward the Russells’ house, noticing something that made my heart practically stop. A black figure with massive wings floated—not flew—along the street closest to the sidewalk on this side. I backed into the house, shutting and locking the door as quietly as I could before peering out the window.
The thing floated in front of my little picket fence, then paused near my sidewalk. It turned, facing my house, then started up the sidewalk, heading toward my front door. Heart pounding and lungs refusing to bring in air, I ran into the master bedroom and locked that door, then hid in the closet.
The front door opened. I’d locked that—how had it gotten in? It didn’t shut. I pulled my gun and trained it on the closet door.
The master bedroom door creaked open, and I simultaneously cursed and thanked myself for not oiling the hinges. It was nice to know where the creature was, but I probably would have nightmares every time from then on when Sia pushed through the door and it made that sound while I was sleeping.
The Shade Amulet Page 12