The Burning Shadow

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  Were we just bombed?

  Ears ringing, I peeked through the space between my arms. White smoke poured into the living room, and I couldn’t see more than a foot in front of my face. Heart pounding, I started to call out, but my lungs seized. Deep, body-rattling coughs consumed me as I shifted onto my side. Debris slipped off me. Eyes watering and body spasming, I cleared my throat. “Zoe? Luc?” I thought I called out, but the ringing was still so loud.

  Scanning the destroyed room, I saw where the coffee table had been. It was in pieces, legs snapped right off it. Zoe was nowhere to be found. I looked to the right, and I thought I saw someone stumbling to their feet. It was just a shape.

  Panic dug in with razor-sharp claws as I scrambled across the floor, looking for Luc. There! Something was sprawled along the floor near the stairs. It couldn’t be him—no way.

  “Luc,” I croaked out, starting, trying to rise.

  Out of the thick, cloudy smoke, a tall figure came toward me. I thought at first it was Grayson, maybe even Kent, but as the shape grew closer, parting the smoke, I saw what was held in its hand, pointed right at me.

  The barrel of a gun.

  29

  The man wore a black ski mask, shielding the entirety of his face. My entire being focused on the tip of the barrel as my heart seemed to grind to a halt in my chest.

  I was going to die, and people lied.

  I didn’t see my life flash before my eyes. There was no mental photo album, highlighting all the best moments. All I saw was the barrel of the gun. The gloved hand that held said gun. That hand did not shake. Not even a tremor. He held it like he’d pointed a gun at a teenage girl a hundred times.

  A shiver of energy rushed over my skin as I saw his forefinger twitch, pulling back on the trigger as he lowered the gun, so it was pointed at the center of my chest. The shot sounded like a crack of thunder. I threw my arm up out of instinct, as if my hand could somehow deflect the bullet.

  I waited for the pain—the blinding, final pain.

  It didn’t come.

  The man was staring down at the gun. Had it misfired?

  “What the hell?” his muffled voice asked.

  I didn’t question my good luck.

  Gripping the heavy piece of drywall that had landed on me, I sprang to my feet and swung the piece of the wall as hard as I could. It connected with his arm, breaking in half. The man grunted, and the gun fired again, this time the bullet drilling through the floor next to me.

  I took a step back as the smoke and dust settled, empty-handed. My wild gaze darted around for another weapon. His hand whipped out, and I didn’t even see the blow coming.

  Red-hot pain erupted along the side of my head. Stars burst behind my eyes. Crying out, I stumbled to the side, dizzy and nauseous. My knees smacked off the floor.

  Holy crap, the man punched like a pro boxer.

  A roaring sound invaded my senses, and for a second, I thought maybe a tank was coming through the house. At this point, anything was possible, but the sound … it was part animal, part human. A sound of pure, primal rage letting loose. Electricity filled the air, popping and crackling.

  I lifted my head, wincing as the room seemed to shift and whirl. Without warning, a figure appeared in front of me, standing before me like a wrathful sentry, shoulders broad and legs widespread.

  It was Luc.

  He was the source of the sound—the source of the growling fury. The house began to tremble again. Gasping, I fell back against the destroyed wall.

  “That was a huge mistake,” Luc growled.

  Floorboards rattled. Particles of dust lifted into the air, broken chunks of wall following. White, luminous light filled the veins along Luc’s forearms. Static charged the air. Pieces of furniture rose, sucked right up to the ceiling.

  That was Luc, all Luc, and that kind of power was unfathomable.

  Masked Man had a death wish. He swung the gun toward Luc, and Luc … laughed. A deep, challenging laugh that raised the hairs all over my body. Micah’s words came back to me in a rush.

  We were all dark stars, but Luc was the darkest.

  The gun flew out of Masked Man’s hand, landing in Luc’s. Muscles flexed along his back and shoulders. Metal ground together. “I don’t think you’ll be needing this.”

  Then Luc opened his hand.

  Nothing but dust sifted through his long fingers, falling silently to the floor.

  “Christ.” Masked Man shuffled back a step.

  I echoed the sentiment.

  White light flickered over Luc’s knuckles, snaking out and spitting electricity. Pitching forward, I pushed up with my hands and stood.

  Luc lifted his arm. A powerful bolt of energy erupted from his palm, smacking into the chest of the man. The blast lifted him into the air, sending him spinning back down to the floor several feet away.

  Masked Man landed in a boneless, smoking heap.

  No twitching. No moaning. The man was dead the moment the light hit him.

  Luc started to turn toward me, but I heard Zoe shout his name. He stopped just as several men, over half a dozen, filed in from where the front door had once stood and spread out across the room.

  These men looked like the ones who had entered my house—dressed all in black, carrying the same long-barreled rifles.

  Zoe came out of nowhere, vaulting over the overturned couch like a damn Olympic gymnast. She was fast, nothing but a blur of curls and long limbs as she appeared in front of the closest killer dude. Snatching the rifle out of the man’s startled hands, she whipped it back around like a baseball bat, catching the masked gunman upside the head. The man went down, and I doubted he was getting up again.

  Like a strike of lightning, she dipped low as another fired. Her hand shot out, gripping the man’s calf. He screamed, dropping the rifle. His knees buckled as he turned into a living x-ray. His bones lit up underneath his skin.

  A bolt of pure energy shot across the room, slamming into another gunman. It came from Grayson. He was on his feet, in full Luxen mode, but Luc …

  He rose off the floor by several feet. I tripped over broken drywall, my mouth hanging open. He was suspended in the air, hovering several feet off the floor.

  I’d never seen him do that.

  “Have you guys seen the first X-Men movie?” Luc asked, speaking as if he were discussing the weather. “It’s an old one, but a favorite. If you ask me, one of the best cinematic scenes in all of movie history was in that film.”

  They stared at him, slowly backing up as somewhere, off in the distance, sirens screamed to life.

  I could hear the smile in Luc’s voice when he said, “I’m going to do you a solid and re-create it.”

  Luc lifted his hands.

  All the rifles flew out of the hands of the attackers, then stopped in midair. The rifles flipped around, turning on their owners.

  I’d seen this movie.

  I knew this scene.

  I so doubted there was a Professor X to step in here.

  “Zoe?” Luc clipped out.

  A warm hand curled around mine, and I looked over. Zoe now stood behind me, her face and hair covered in chalky dust. She spoke, but I didn’t hear the words over the pounding of blood. When she started moving, started pulling me forward, I went.

  Dodging fallen furniture and crumbling walls, we entered what was left of a kitchen. The cabinet doors were open, and even in here, items had risen to the ceiling. Pots and pans. Utensils. All the metal was bent in half, as if it were trying to be sucked through the ceiling.

  “We’ve got to go.” Kent appeared, throwing open the screen door. It came off its hinges, hanging crooked. Blood marred the skin under his lower lip, and I wasn’t sure if that was from earlier or not. I was just glad to see him still standing.

  Zoe rushed out of the kitchen, holding tightly to my hand. I dug in, though, looking back through the mess. “What about Luc?”

  “He’ll be fine.” Zoe stepped out into the cool, night air, but I d
ug my feet in.

  “I’m not leaving him,” I said.

  “He’ll be okay. I swear—Christ,” she gasped as I jerked my arm free from her grasp, causing her to stumble.

  I spun around and was halfway back through the door when I heard a series of what sounded like fireworks going off, a quick succession of pops and then fleshy thumps, one after another.

  I didn’t know what to feel as I stood there. Sympathy for these men? Empathy? No. I felt nothing like that. They were here to kill us.

  Luc was suddenly in front of me, appearing out of the dust. The pupils of his eyes burned brightly as his gaze fixed on mine.

  Heart thumping, I lifted my hand, palm up.

  His hand folded over mine, and then we were running through a narrow backyard, pushing through overgrown grass and weeds. We passed a run-down shed, bursting out into an alley.

  Zoe stopped suddenly up ahead. An oversize SUV was parked out back, running. Painted white and definitely big enough it could nearly seat a baseball team, I knew this was not the one I’d gotten into earlier. This was a Yukon. I didn’t know a lot about cars, but I knew these things were super-freaking expensive.

  “How did you get this car?” I asked.

  “I used skills and my amazing credit score.” Kent climbed into the driver’s seat, rubbing his hand under his lip. “Get in.”

  “Is your skill grand theft auto?”

  Zoe opened the back door, motioning me to climb in. “Among other things.”

  At the moment, stealing a car was definitely the least of my concerns. I climbed in, and seconds later, Zoe was beside me, slamming the door shut, and Luc was coming through the other as Grayson got situated in the front seat.

  No one said anything as the SUV coasted out of the alley and onto the main road, slowing down as several police cars raced past us, heading to the poor, destroyed home. We left the silent, sleeping neighborhoods behind and hit the highway, picking up speed.

  I stared at Luc. He was looking out the window, his profile as if it were cut out of stone. Tension radiated from him.

  “Should’ve kept one of them alive,” Grayson grumbled, shifting in the seat. “I imagine we could’ve made one of them talk.”

  My head snapped in Grayson’s direction. “I don’t think we had the time for that.”

  Luc slowly looked at me. In the darkness of the SUV, his gaze swept over my face. My heart stuttered as he gently placed his hand along my jaw, his cool fingers brushing my temple, right where pain flared from the blow I’d taken.

  The touch was barely there, not exactly unwanted but definitely eliciting a riot of responses throughout me. I drew in a shallow breath, and then felt it. Warmth radiated from his fingertips, and I jerked back, bumping into Zoe. He was healing me, and it wasn’t necessary. I was okay, but he was thinking of me, always thinking of me, and I leaned over, placing my fingers along his jaw. A moment passed, and then his fingers were gone from my cheek. I pulled back, scanning his face. Shadows crept across Luc’s features as he withdrew, staring out the window once more, and there was nothing but quiet for miles and miles.

  * * *

  It was Kent who broke the silence, first by attempting to play a game of I Spy with Grayson, which was impossible for two reasons. One, it was pitch-black outside and we couldn’t see anything, and two, Grayson was not interested. Not even remotely. I was pretty sure I heard Grayson threaten to punch Kent in an area that would ensure Kent would have some difficulty going to the bathroom.

  Then Kent turned on the radio.

  Much to everyone’s dismay, he settled on a station that played country music.

  Huh. Never would’ve guessed that.

  An argument ensued, ending when Grayson threatened to zap him, and so the radio went off, and it was silent again while I tried not to focus on four things:

  My mom.

  Luc’s abnormal, stony silence.

  Heidi and Emery’s whereabouts.

  The nearly overwhelming need to visit a bathroom.

  I looked over at Luc, wishing we were somewhere private where we could talk. Something was wrong with him, and I knew it had to do with what had happened back in the house and in his club. He’d killed those men. He’d had to, but I could tell it was bothering him, as was the loss he’d suffered tonight. He’d told me that some deaths didn’t get to him, but others did, and I knew which way these were falling.

  Unease warred with the need to find a potty. They had been living, breathing people.

  People who probably had families. People, I imagined, who got up every morning, maybe drank coffee and checked out the news. People who probably liked chocolate cake and steak. People who wanted to end my life.

  People who had ended my mom’s life before I had a chance to really know her, because as I sat in the Yukon, wedged between Zoe and Luc, I realized I never knew her.

  Not really.

  I only ever knew what Mom had shown me.

  And it was far past the time to admit that most of what Mom had shown me was a lie, just like April. What had April called the woman I’d thought had been her mom? Her handler. Was that what my mom was, too? A handler?

  Thickness crept into my throat and made the next breath I took hard as I stared at Luc’s profile, pushing aside my own problems. These deaths were cutting into him, and those people … they hadn’t been good. I believed that in my heart.

  Clearing my throat, I rubbed my hands on my knees. “So … um, where are we going? I mean, I know you said Houston, but how long will that take?”

  “Driving nonstop would take a little over twenty hours.” Zoe drew one leg up, resting it against the door. She yawned, and I guessed catching a flight was totally out of the question. “Give or take a few hours, depending on traffic.”

  “We’ll be hitting rush hour in a few of the big cities,” Kent chimed in from the steering wheel.

  “We’re not going straight through,” Luc said, and it was probably the first time he’d spoken in well over an hour. “We can’t.”

  I peeked over at him. “Are you going to elaborate?”

  He didn’t look over, and I thought his eyes were closed. “We can’t just roll up to Zone 3 and knock on a door.”

  Kent chuckled. “Is there even a door to knock on?”

  “You’ve been there?” I asked.

  “I come from there.”

  So many questions rose to the surface, but Luc jumped back in. “We need to make a few … calls. Make sure our arrival is known. We’re going to have to lie low for a couple of days.”

  “We’re going to the ATL.” Kent’s Mohawk bobbed and weaved. “To Hot-lanta, which rhymes with Mylanta. And Santa. Oh, and Fanta.” He paused. “God, I’d do dirty, nasty things for some Fanta right now. What about you, Evie? I’ve never asked. Do you like Fanta?”

  I stared at him. “I haven’t had it.”

  “What? That’s the first thing we’re going to do when we get to the Peachtree City. Gonna get you some Fanta. It’s like carbonated fruit orgasming in your mouth.”

  My eyes widened. The imagery that painted …

  “God,” Zoe muttered under her breath. “We aren’t actually going to Atlanta, but one of the suburbs.”

  My stomach took that moment to remind me that there were actually five things I was trying to ignore. It rumbled loudly.

  Luc lifted his head off the window, angling his body toward mine. “Hungry?”

  No point in lying. “Yeah.”

  “Stop at the next gas station or rest stop,” he ordered.

  “Yes, sir.” Kent saluted him.

  “You sure that’s a good idea?” Grayson pulled his legs off the dashboard. “We’re only in Virginia. Not that far.”

  “We make it a quick stop and get back on the road.” Luc leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “We should be fine.”

  Should be wasn’t exactly reassuring.

  “We’ll make it fine,” Zoe said.

  From that point on, the conversation
circled around the different types of Fanta that Kent insisted I had to try, and honest to God, I’d only thought there was one kind. About fifteen minutes later, he took an exit near Richmond, and we ended up in the parking lot of a large, open-all-night Exxon. There was only one other car in the parking lot.

  Zoe lightly touched my arm, drawing my attention. She’d already gotten out and was leaning across the seat. “Your bag is in the back. You might want to grab a clean shirt before you head in there.”

  At first I didn’t get why, but then I glanced down at myself. It was dark, but I could see the shadowy stains on my stomach and chest. Blood.

  Yeah. That would draw unwanted attention.

  Suppressing a shudder, I nodded and scooted out. Looking up, I saw that Grayson and Kent were already cutting across the parking lot, heading inside. Zoe lingered on the other side, her back to me as she watched the road. My legs felt wobbly as I walked around to the back of the Yukon. The hatch was already open, and my purple bag was sitting right there.

  The bag Mom had packed.

  I blinked rapidly, fighting the wetness gathering in my eyes as I carefully tugged the zipper open and spread the sides. The envelope of money was still there, as was the passport … and Diesel.

  Trying not to think about the smudges along the envelope or how everything got into this bag, I pulled out the first shirt I saw. After making sure the coast was clear, I quickly yanked off the ruined shirt, planning to toss it in the nearest garbage can or maybe light it on fire. One of the two. I pulled on the new shirt, breathing in the scent of detergent.

  Pain squeezed down on my chest, so real and so tight. Home. My shirt smelled like home, like Mom—

  I cut those thoughts off and started to zip the bag up, stopping suddenly when I thought of my phone. Hadn’t I dropped it in my bag?

  “You won’t find your phone,” Luc said.

  Gasping, I spun around, placing a hand against my chest. “Christ, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”