by Keri Arthur
Only to realize there’d been two of them.
Something smashed against the back of my head and sent me flying. I hit the wall hard and felt the black tide of unconsciousness descending. I fought it with every scrap of energy and determination I had in me, and punched upward with my free hand. I didn’t hit anything, but it didn’t matter because I wasn’t actually trying to. Multiple fingers of flame leapt from my clenched fingers and fanned out, seeking, searching, for my attacker. There was a soft curse and the faintest sound of footfalls, but there was no escape from my net. It caught him, wrapped around him, and then flung him—hard—against the nearest wall.
He didn’t move. I released the flames and let their energy filter back into me as I forced myself into a sitting position. Bile rose up my throat, and again the tide of black threatened. I sucked in air, drawing it deep into my lungs, into my body, trying to calm the churning in my gut and the weakness washing through my body. It was a weakness that could affect my ability to raise fire as a weapon and was undoubtedly why intuition had been warning me to conserve it.
After several minutes, the tide receded. I pushed upright; the effort made my head pound, and warmth began to trickle down the back of my neck. I tucked the gun into the back of my jeans, then carefully felt the back of my head; not only was there a lump the size of a tennis ball but also a cut at least an inch long.
I briefly became flame to cauterize the wound, but the effort had my senses swimming. Concussion, I suspected.
I walked across to my first attacker—whose position I knew only thanks to the smell of burned flesh—and carefully knelt beside him. Glamors might be capable of hiding your form, but they didn’t actually stop anyone from feeling you. There was a slight tingle as I pressed my hands through the glamor’s barrier, but it quickly faded as I began searching for whatever artifact the spell had been placed on. I found it around his neck; a pendant on a simple chain, from the feel of it. I yanked on the chain to break it, and then flung both it and the pendant away from him. The air around his body shimmered as the spell faded, revealing a big red-haired man in his late forties. He wasn’t a vamp—his skin was too tanned—and he wasn’t a wolf. He was human—a hulking great human.
He needed to be if they’d shoved Jackson into the dumbwaiter. Jackson was neither small nor light.
I pushed up and went into the nearest office, rummaging around until I found some wrapping tape. Then I rolled the hulk onto his stomach, hauled his arms behind his back, and wrapped the tape thickly around his wrists and hands. I repeated the process with his feet.
With that one safe, I walked down to the other one, pausing on the way there to stomp on the small plaster pendant. It shattered with a small puff of smoke. I reached inside the glamor hiding my second attacker and felt around until I found the pendant, discovering that this one was a female, not a male.
This time, I undid the chain rather than break it, and I didn’t toss it away. Instead, I placed it on my hand and, after a minute, felt my skin tingle as the magic within it reactivated and my hand, arm—and no doubt the rest of me—disappeared. As I’d suspected, these glamors were activated by skin contact and had not been specifically designed for either of my attackers. I slipped the pendant around my neck and let it sit next to the charm Grace had given us. Once I’d repeated the tying-up process, I rose and went back to the dumbwaiter.
The thing was on the move.
I stepped back and waited. It rose with tortuous slowness. Sweat trickled down my back, my head was still pounding, and all I wanted to do was find a nice dark corner to curl up in.
But not until Jackson was safe and the two Rinaldos were dead.
The top of the dumbwaiter came into view. Fire boiled through me, wanting release, wanting to lash out and hurt someone.
But there was no one in the dumbwaiter to hurt.
There was just a note. I released the breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding and carefully stepped forward. Grace’s charm flared to life almost instantly, and I stopped. Obviously, the magic was meant to ensnare me the minute I picked up the note, so that was the one thing I couldn’t do.
I rose on my tiptoes in an effort to see what was written on it, but from this distance, it was little more than elegant-looking black scrawls. Rinaldo’s writing, I guessed. He—or at least the one we’d met—seemed the elegant type.
I quickly looked around and spotted one of those sticks used to open and close vents sitting in the room I’d gotten the tape from. I retrieved it, then carefully stretched out and tried to snag the note and drag it closer. The burn of the charm at my neck got stronger; then it snapped away, and the note fluttered free from the dumbwaiter. I dropped the stick and picked up the note.
If you want to see him alive, it said, come to the factory across the road. The one that holds the van you hid behind. And don’t inform the rats or the wolves.
Intuition had been right. It was my senses that had let me down.
A wild mix of fury and fear rushed through me, and the note became cinders in an instant. As its sooty remains drifted to the floor, I spun and walked back to the staircase. It was a trap; I knew that. But I had Grace’s charm, I had the glamor, and I had my rage.
It would have to be enough.
I thrust a hand to open the door, then stopped. Whoever I’d sensed coming up the stairwell earlier was now waiting just beyond the door.
I took a deep breath, then raised a hand, caught my barrier’s flames, and smeared them across the entire stairwell.
That was when the screams began. Horrible, pain-filled screams.
Good, that hard part of me thought. I thrust the door open and was greeted by a human torch. I grabbed my gun and shot at what looked like a kneecap. As the man went down, I snatched the fire back into my body, then spun and ran up the stairs.
The sound of fighting was still rising from below, suggesting Rinaldo had one hell of an army down there—maybe even the entirety of De Luca’s den. After all, with the council’s kill order now hanging over their collective heads, they had nothing to lose and everything to gain by fighting for Rinaldo.
I pushed out onto the rooftop. The sky was a wild mix of red, orange, gold, and purple, and it seemed to echo the state of my mind. I flexed my fingers as I strode across the roof but paused near the edge, my gaze scanning the building on the other side of the street. The front door was now open.
It was an invitation I wasn’t about to accept.
I glanced up at the tree, took a deep breath that didn’t do a whole lot to ease the pounding in my head, and leapt. I caught the branch with one hand, steadied myself with the other, and then clambered up. It didn’t take me long to get down to the ground.
I took a circular route to the other building. I had no idea who might be watching, but I had no doubt someone was. I just had to hope that whoever it was wasn’t all that familiar with magic and glamors.
The building belonged to some sort of printing press, and it was another of those two-story concrete and glass constructions that could be found everywhere in industrial estates like this. There was a driveway between this building and the next, and that was where I headed. I still wasn’t getting any sense of heat coming from within the building, but as I walked down to the loading bay area, the awareness of it slipped across my senses. I slowed my steps, trying to keep as quiet as possible. While I was pretty confident no one could see through the glamor, I had no idea who or what was up ahead—although if they were vampires, they’d sense my heartbeat, glamor or not.
I stepped into the loading bay. There were two of them here—one at the top of the steps near the door, the other at the bottom of the ramp.
If I didn’t want Rinaldo to know I was coming in from the side entrance, I had to take both out at the same time. And that meant using fire.
Trouble was, I wasn’t entirely sure how much more fire I had in me. As intuition had w
arned, the pounding in my head was sapping all my strength. But it wasn’t like I had any other option. If I only attacked one, the other would have the chance to warn Rinaldo.
Besides, time was running out. For Jackson, and for me.
Not wanting to think too hard about that bit of information, I picked up a pebble and flung it against the opposite wall. As the two men spun around, I flicked out two ribbons of fire, wrapped one around each, and threw them headfirst into the walls. I didn’t bother checking them. The blood beginning to stain the concrete spoke volumes about their life expectancy. I ran up the steps and carefully opened the door. The room beyond was small and dark—some sort of office or receiving area.
I crept forward. There was a window next to the door, and I peered through it from one side. With dawn in full bloom outside, the shadows were lifting inside. The room beyond was vast and filled with printing presses and various other bits of machinery. I couldn’t see anyone, and there was no indication of a heat source anywhere in the room. Beyond the presses were several doors; one was open and led into a bathroom. The other was closed.
I carefully opened the door and walked out, keeping my back to the external wall in an effort to protect myself. I still wasn’t sensing anyone, but then, I hadn’t sensed the red-haired hulk and his companion until it was almost too late, either.
I should have drained the heat from them. It would have bolstered my strength and shored up my reserves, but it was too late for regrets now.
It didn’t take me long to reach the closed door, but I didn’t reach for the handle. Instead, I pressed a hand against the wood, then closed my eyes and called to whatever heat was inside—something every phoenix could do but rarely attempted, as it drained our strength even as it fed us. Which was why we generally touched people when we fed from them—it was easier and far less dangerous. Doing this now, when I was in an already depleted state, was doubly so.
There was heat inside.
It filtered quickly through my fingertips and fed the inner flames, but my head began to pound even more viciously and my form flickered, briefly becoming fire—a sure sign I was reaching my body’s limits.
Two soft thuds came from inside. I quickly shut down the feed but didn’t immediately move, waiting instead for the flickering between shapes to ease.
Once it had, I grabbed the handle and opened the door. The room beyond was an open office area; one guard lay to the right of the door, and another across the exit on the far side of the room. I knelt down beside the nearest guard—a vampire, and one I’d seen before. He was one of the vamps who’d attacked Sam and me in the cemetery.
Obviously, no lesson had been learned or warning heeded. Not then, not later.
I placed a hand on his and drew every scrap of heat and life he had left in him into my body. His skin went cold, and then his body began to draw in on itself, until there was nothing left but flesh on bone and life had departed.
It helped. Only fractionally, but I suspected even the smallest of fractions would matter. I repeated the process with the second guard—another of De Luca’s get—then placed my hand on the door. There was no sense of heat coming from the next room.
I went through. It appeared to be some sort of conference area. I stepped toward the next door, only to halt as a somewhat tinny but all-too-familiar voice said, “I suggest you stop all the fucking about and come to me immediately if you wish your partner to remain alive.”
Fire swirled around me, a halo of flame that had nowhere and no one to immediately attack. I glanced around the room and saw the speaker sitting in the far corner.
“I know you’re in the building, Emberly. I can feel the pulse of your life in the room below.”
Meaning he was above. I looked up. The ceiling was one of those suspended grid systems that were easy to get into. The concrete above it wouldn’t be, unless I could find a way to circumvent it.
The bathroom . . .
I spun around and walked out.
“Hurry up, dear Emberly; otherwise, your partner will pay the price.”
I didn’t respond, as much as I wanted to. I strode into the bathroom, punched a hole into the wall behind the nearest toilet, and found the waste pipe. Places like this usually had their bathroom facilities situated in the same location on every floor to make connections for waste and water easier. This place was no different.
If Rinaldo wanted me, he was going to get me. The real me, in all my fiery glory.
I blasted a hole into the plastic pipe, then shifted shape and surged upward. The facilities above provided as little resistance to my heat as the ones below, and in very little time I was out the door and in the main room.
Men flung themselves at me, not seeming to care that I was fire. Their bodies went up the instant they touched me. Two, three, and then more, hit me, momentarily forcing me down under the sheer force of their numbers. But as their bodies became ash, that force lifted and I surged forward again.
Rinaldo was standing alone in the middle of a large stone circle. Witch stones—not ordinary ones. To one side of him, surrounded by at least a dozen vampires, knelt Jackson. His hands were tied, and around his neck was a silvery pendant not unlike the one I’d stolen. I had no doubt it was restraining his fire, just as I had no doubt that all the pendants had come from the small woman kneeling beside him. Even from where I was I could feel the wash of her power—but both she and that power were under Rinaldo’s control if her slack features and the emptiness in her eyes were anything to go by.
Rinaldo himself looked calm, but fury radiated from his body, its force so fierce, the air around him seemed to boil. I shot a lance of fire his way, even though the stones around him told me it was pointless. It bounced harmlessly away; I sent another one at one of the stones, but lessons had obviously been learned, because it, too, bounced away. As a last resort, I tried to call to his body heat. That, too, proved useless. The wall of magic surrounding him had been very well designed.
He smiled. It was not a pleasant thing to behold. “Retain your real form, Emberly, or the witch dies.”
If Rinaldo thought my flesh form rather than this was real, then perhaps he didn’t know as much about phoenixes as he thought. It at least gave me some hope. My gaze met Jackson’s as I shifted shape.
You okay? He didn’t look it. His skin was gray, and sweat was trickling down the side of his face.
Some gorilla broke my leg, and the witch’s charm is restricting my fire. But other than that, just ducky.
“Step into my circle, Emberly.”
Said the spider to the fly. I flexed my fingers, then walked forward. Do you know what the circle around him is?
It’s not only fire restriction, but it’ll restrict your access to the mother.
Meaning the witch was familiar with the mother—and that she was probably the reason Frederick’s spell had been as well designed as it was. But I’d beaten him, and I could beat this witch—if I had the energy, not to mention the time.
“I was going to kill you swiftly,” Rinaldo continued, “but I’m afraid that option disappeared after what you did to my brother.”
“I haven’t fucking touched your brother—” I paused. Did he mean in the stairwell—the one I’d set alight and then shot?
“I can feel his agony, Emberly. It burns through my body and my brain, and begs me to return it in kind.” Rinaldo waved a hand. “I cannot help but comply.”
Meaning I’d had him. I’d had the bastard screaming at my feet, and in my anxiety to get to Jackson, I’d let him live. Fuck.
I would have done the same, Jackson said.
That’s not overly comforting right now. I stopped a few paces outside the stone circle. Will your broken leg prevent you taking out the guards?
It prevents me from moving, but if I can access my fire, I can take the guards out no problem. He paused. But the minute I attempt it, the
witch is dead.
I’m about to fix that problem. To Rinaldo, I said, “Release your grip on the witch before I step into your circle.”
He raised an eyebrow. “If you hope that she might help you with her magic, you will be disappointed. Among the charms she created for me was one that restricts any access she has to magic.”
“Release her and you can have me. Don’t, and I’ll kill your guards, free Jackson, and leave you surrounded in a ring of fire your witch won’t be able to tame and you won’t get through.” To Jackson, I added, Don’t react. Not in any way.
With that, I called to the mother. She answered swiftly, and with such force that my entire body trembled. I licked my lips and flicked an invisible sliver toward Jackson—even as I let her energy dance across my fingertips to ensure Rinaldo’s attention remained on me.
“And then,” I added, “I’ll go find your bastard brother and finish what I started. I’m sure he couldn’t have crawled too far from where I left him.”
The pendant disappeared in a puff of smoke even as Rinaldo’s face twisted and he took an involuntary step forward. Then he stopped and took a deep breath. But there was madness in his eyes now—madness and pain. It was both his and his brother’s, I suspected.
“I will very much enjoy tearing you apart piece by tiny piece.” As he spoke, the witch took a shuddering breath, then glanced around wildly. “Where am I? What’s happening?”
“You were under the thrall of a vampire,” I said, keeping my gaze on said vampire, “and have just been released. Stay calm, and don’t move, or his guards will kill you.”
“Oh my god.”
“It’s okay,” Jackson murmured. “Everything will be okay.”
“No, it won’t,” Rinaldo said, then motioned me forward with his fingers—fingers equipped with nails that were unusually long and razor sharp. He really was going to tear me apart. “Come along, Emberly. I haven’t all day.”
I kept a grip of the mother and took those final few steps. The magic hit me like a club, ripping apart my hold on the mother and sending my senses reeling. I felt rather than heard his approach and threw myself sideways. I hit the ground hard but rolled to my feet, only to be knocked backward by a blow to the side of my face. I swore, fighting tears and pain, but somehow twisted around and lashed out with a booted foot. It connected with flesh but was met with a laugh.