A Question of Will (7 page)

The Assassin laughed at her again, this time with a mocking cruelty in the tone. “Silly
human
girl. Do you think your words carry any weight with us? Save your breath. You have so few remaining.”

She considered her next move as he continued talking. “You see, your husband has been something of an embarrassment to our organization. One of our true leaders and innovators, leaving to be part of a rebellion that strives to
help
humans? This is not acceptable.”

Sounds like my kind of guy
, Hope thought.
Anybody who aggravates this clown is a hero in my book
. Aloud, she snorted. “Now, see,
that
sounds like Will, always looking to help others improve their own lives. Where can I sign up for this rebellion you spoke of? I’d like to help him continue his noble work.”

The Assassin ignored her cheek. “He has many times escaped our attempts at capture, and our Hunters have become quite disturbed. When they learned about you, well...it was as if they had been given a wonderful gift.” His blood-red eyes glinted with malice. “Bait.”

She stared at him. “What...what do you mean, bait?”

“We have heard plenty of stories through our information gathering of Will’s deep devotion to you. Even now, I am quite certain he is trying to work through the little obstacle I left at the entry to your neighborhood, as he has no doubt figured out that your life is in danger. And so I mean to show him a dramatic failure in this regard. Not only will you be dead, but your home will be in flames. In his emotional distress at losing you in this fire, he will be an easy target for our Hunters.” He leaned closer, smiling. “They have not forgotten how he has shamed them and our group. I dare say the capture will not go well for him.” At her look of horror, he laughed.

“And now, Mrs. Stark, we come to the manner of
your
death. Normally, I would simply run my sword through you, directly into your brain, and that would kill you instantly. No pain, for all that’s worth. Yet you intended to shoot me with your little gun, and then you actually struck me with that piece of wood. That hurt my pride. Struck by a
human woman
? Such an embarrassment must be repaid. And so instead I believe I will let you die slowly in my beautiful fire, maimed so that you cannot escape. I am uncertain as to whether I should silence you as well, but I daresay it will be far more interesting to have Will hear you screaming as you burn to death, knowing he cannot save you.” He moved toward her. “And now, we will see your legs and arms maimed.”

Hope pulled the knife from behind her back, blade gripped in her fingers, and hurled it at the Assassin. He was stunned, and though he could move quickly, he could not get entirely out of the way. The blade caught him in the left shoulder, and he roared in pain. If she’d felt his presence and evil before, it was nothing to the malice she felt now, crackling like electricity around her.

He switched his sword to his left hand, and used the right hand to yank the knife from his shoulder. He stared at his own blood, shocked, and then turned on her again, screaming in rage more than pain. “Now you will suffer beyond comprehension!” He raised both blades now, ready to charge her, to... do what, she had no idea.

She caught the blur of white hurtling through the air as the baseball smashed into the man’s face, shattering his nose, the already ugly face becoming even more so.

“You leave my Mommy alone, you bad man!” Josh shouted, shaking his fist at The Assassin, the picture of six-year-old fury.

The Assassin roared again and turned on the unknown assailant.
No
, thought Hope,
don’t you dare hurt Josh
. She’d hidden the boy in his room, buried in his closet under clothes and stuffed animals, with the order to not make a sound or leave until he heard one of his parents calling for him. Clearly, the boy had heard the shouting and had come to protect his mother.
Just like the voice in his head told him to
. Though she admired his bravery and devotion to her, she wished he’d chosen to remain in place. Now she had to prevent The Assassin from killing her son; she’d failed to make sure the man never discovered Josh’s existence. She waited for the expected attack on the child.

But The Assassin stared at the six-year-old boy, rooted to the spot and unmoving.

“Go away, bad man!” Josh shouted.

The Assassin finally seemed to shake out of his fog. “Stark has a son.” It wasn’t a question, yet the tone suggested he wanted it to be. “It’s impossible. No Aliomenti can have children. Yet here he is. It’s not possible.”

Hope took advantage of the distraction and hurled herself into the man, knocking him to the ground. She heard him grunt again as his damaged shoulder slammed into the wood floor. Then he brushed her aside, sending her five feet through the air. She landed with a thud, temporarily disoriented. She was somehow by that same kitchen chair again, with The Assassin getting to his feet near the opening between the kitchen and living room. Josh, who had been in the hallway entering the kitchen, ran to her. “Mommy!” he shrieked, his face shrouded in concern as he hugged her.

A few hours ago, a hug from her son would have been the greatest gift she could receive. Now, she just wanted to get him away from here. But instead, the evil mind of The Assassin formulated a new plan. “I’ve thought of the
perfect
punishment for you, Mrs. Stark. You’ll watch the boy die in front of your eyes before you burn to death.” He laughed, a cruel and triumphant sound that reminded Hope of fingernails on a chalkboard.

The laughter turned to a scream of pain.

Smokey had emerged from hiding, and her jaws were clamped around the Assassin’s leg. The dog snarled and pulled, as if she were trying to amputate the leg with her teeth. At a minimum, she was causing The Assassin a great deal of pain. The man roared and slammed a huge fist down on the dog’s head. Smokey yelped, but didn’t let go of his leg. The Assassin raised his sword and jabbed it into the dog’s side. Smokey yelped again and fell to the ground, whimpering.

“Smokey!” Josh screamed, and Hope’s heart broke at the anguish in her son’s voice. He tried to run to the dog, but Hope held him. The Assassin, noting the anguish as well, smiled at the boy and kicked the dog into the wall of the house. The dog fell to the ground and lay completely still.

“You
monster
!” Hope screamed, while trying to comfort a sobbing Josh.

The boy broke free and sent a withering glance at the Assassin, who, to Hope’s surprise, looked somewhat frightened. “I’ll kill you for that,” the little boy said, his tone the equal in malice to that of the Assassin. The voice was Josh’s and yet not, as if from an unrepentant demon, and Hope was startled.

The Assassin took a step back, and then seemed to remember he was being threatened by an unarmed six-year-old boy. He laughed once, and then his face resumed its usual mask of venom. “Foolish boy,” he hissed. “I’m tired of these games. This ends
now
.” He took a step towards Hope and Josh, the sword rising above his head, ready to finish them off.

They vanished from his sight.

He’d suffered insults to his pride as the two humans and the dog had fought him; while it was a rare human who could muster the courage to fight him at all, it wasn’t without precedent, and some even landed blows that scarred his face before he overwhelmed them. This had been something different. He hadn’t known about the boy or the dog, and between the broken nose, the stab wound in his shoulder, and the torn flesh of his leg, he’d taken the worst beating of his career. But he’d gotten through it and fully disarmed them, ready for the kill of not one but two humans — an extra treat — and now he’d been denied that reward.

There could be only one explanation, only one man who could have moved the human woman and child to safety, only one man who could have denied him his kills.

“STARK!” he screamed, so loudly he was certain the world could hear him. His anger and rage boiled up in the form of the flames he could expel from his body, normally at will, but the tongues of fire were beyond his control at this point, as great as the rage that consumed him.

The flames touched the foaming substance he’d sprayed on the walls earlier, concentrated on the rear wall of the house in the kitchen where he was facing. The foam, a flame accelerant he’d developed over the years as a way to enhance his natural pyromancy abilities, was intended to be lit with a tiny spark, the way the Hunters had used it to burn the golf carts at the community entrance. Instead, the substance was ignited with the heat equivalent of a small bomb. The foam exploded, blasting the rear wall of the house into the backyard. The somewhat weaker flames moving toward the front of the house blew out the glass in the front windows; the shrapnel sprayed Will Stark, who had just arrived at the front yard.

The remaining accelerant did what it was designed to do. Red-hot flames blasted into existence, engulfing the entire house in towering streams of fire nearly instantly, so that to an outside observer like Will Stark, it was as if the house had been erased and replaced by a giant bonfire.

The raging fires thirsted for oxygen, and while the Assassin’s gift made him immune to the flames, he still needed to breathe. He gasped for air and tried to leave the house, but the loss of oxygen was so sudden and complete at his level that he only made it two steps before he lost consciousness. He fell to the ground, right next to the dog he’d kicked with extreme cruelty only a few moments earlier.

V

Abduction

Will squinted at the wall of flame that was consuming his house, unable to fully open his eyes due to the intense brightness of the inferno. He could not fathom what force or power could engulf a five thousand square foot house in flames as though it were a scrap of paper thrown into a bonfire. What mattered most to him now was determining if either Hope or Josh had survived the initial explosion, and if they still lived amid the raging flames. The earlier news from Hope that Josh had finally started speaking now had a very practical benefit: his son had the ability to call out for help, assuming he still lived.

Will refused to think about any other possibility. He’d search for Hope and Josh until he found them, regardless of their condition or the pain and injury he might endure. He owed them that much for failing to protect them from the horror that stood before him.

He winced still at the pain from removing the overcoat, which had not only pulled pieces of glass from his skin, but had also aggravated his burns, burns that were only getting worse as he continued to stand so close to the burning building. He’d probably be advised to get plastic surgery for the burns after this. He didn’t care.

Will tried to look into the house where he’d seen the man with the bloodied sword, the man who’d tried and possibly succeeded in killing his wife and son. The flames were too intense, but he imagined the killer had probably been badly injured or killed in the explosion, and if not, the flames couldn’t be doing him any good. It was difficult to feel any sympathy for that monster, though. Will darted to the right side of his house, looking for any semblance of an opening in the flames or walls that would enable him to get inside. He saw nothing but towering sheets of fire. While he didn’t particularly care if he suffered additional injuries, it wouldn’t do Hope or Josh any good if he was so badly hurt when he got into the house that he couldn’t help them get out. If they were already gone...he’d just stay in the house until he joined them.

For now, he’d search.

Will worked his way steadily around the side of the house, spotting nothing resembling an opening in the walls of flame, until he reached the back. It looked as if the explosion had been focused here, perhaps in the kitchen area, for it had taken a large section of the back of the house out. The flames were, if possible, even more intense near the gaping hole than around the front and sides of the house. Will suspected that it was because there was more air and oxygen here to feed the flames. He could feel the fire touching his scorched skin, and he inhaled a touch of smoke.

Gasping and choking, Will moved further into the back yard, falling to his knees and coughing as he worked to expel the smoke from his lungs. He knew what he needed to do now. He would plunge into his burning home through the now non-existent rear walls to continue his search. Fate would decide whether he emerged.

His lungs finally seemed clear, and Will took deep breaths, trying to flood his lungs with oxygen, and in so doing keep his body from shutting down due to the extreme burns. He stood up, faced the house, and started walking, a look of grim determination on his face.

Two sets of hands grabbed him from behind and hurled him twenty feet through the air towards the forest. Will landed in a heap, his glasses flying off his face well past him, and the just-inhaled air was expelled forcefully from his lungs. He tried to get to his feet, but his attackers began kicking him and punching him, the force doubly painful due to his burned skin. Forced to focus on his own survival, Will tried to pull himself into a fetal position, but the attackers seized his arms and legs and held him face down. The heavy blows continued, fists and boots smashing into him, and he heard loud cracks as bones snapped in his lower leg and rib cage.