Flame (Fireborn) (15 page)

"Is that all
you have?" he taunts. He lifts his hands again, and a twirling
tornado spins out between his fingers, coming straight for me. I
can't move, and when it finally touches me, it feels like it's
sucking the life out of me, spinning and spinning, until it takes
everything.

Something ancient
and old is inside me, vibrating from the threat. It tells me to rise
up, to stand as tall as a dragon. Magically the image is there: a
hundred fireflies, glowing with orange and red embers. As my eyes
strain the image attempts to come to life in front of me, but it's
faint near the dizzying tornado. The cyclone is consuming the fire
I'm attempting to make. His laughter continues in my head. The cold
is winning again. The invisible smoke filled with arctic wind shakes
all around me, cracking the firewall around me. It stabs at me,
creating thick airless spaces wherever it touches.

I squeeze my eyes
shut, and with a last burst of energy I imagine myself erupting from
the icy hands holding me. I imagine my fireflies swarming around him,
consuming him the way he had consumed me. Something is ripping inside
my hand.

One moment I'm
there, and the next I'm on fire.

Saguinox Headquarters

Hot.

It's feeling very hot.
A bead of sweat rolls off his skin, and he wonders why he can even
notice it when a hologram of Malachi is right in front of him. Most
people would be trembling, especially if they knew what he knew. But
he's not, and the heat is so damn irritating. He catches the drop of
sweat, breaking it with his fingers. Malachi's glaring at him, yet he
takes his time looking up. Malachi's thinking he has a death wish.
Maybe he does.

"Are you sure this
human is the carrier?" Malachi asks again, his rumbling voice,
rupturing with his anger.

"Yes," he
answers, sounding more bored than he wants to. "Armin says that
last time her mind fought with fire. It can only mean that the fire
crystal is inside."

"Your sources have
already been wrong twice," Malachi snaps, taking a couple steps
closer. The image crackles a bit then reassembles. "Two dead
bodies and no crystal. What makes this time any different?"

A hundred answers come
to mind, but he silently counts to ten to make sure he says the right
thing. "They've been able to get their hands on something that
is proving to be very… accurate."

A low groan is emitted,
and they pause, glancing at Armin. He's been at it for longer than
normal. He see sweat building on Armin's forehead. Soon he'll be
drenched in it. Armin's sitting on a chair, both hands deceptively
still on the arms of the chair. His eyes are wide open. Only bouts of
rapid blinking belie what is truly happening.

They're all killers.

Blood stains the
fingerprints of every single one of them.

Armin's weapon is his
mind. He can kill with it. Armin's
already
killed with it.
Sometimes he wonders when the blood will haunt Armin's mind, the way
it's haunted his own.

Whimpers from the human
girl chained to the wall interrupt his thoughts. Two guards stand by
her. She sounds hoarse and weak. Her tears are dried up, and her
voice has faded with her screams. The ruby red slave dress hangs on
her thin frame, and it almost brightens the ghastly pallor of her
pale face. Almost. The crystal's taken too much of her life energy,
and when Armin takes her blood she'll be nothing but a corpse.

Malachi is abruptly no
longer interested in him. His hologram image turns away, watching
Armin. The hologram reveals clearly every detail about Malachi. He's
a distinguished looking man, older, but with a full head of dark
brown hair. Shades of gray sprinkle his hair, embellishing it like a
crown. A hint of a mustache lingers above his lips, creating an
aristocratic look demonstrating his royal heritage. He's the King of
Sangine. Commander and Chief. Prince of the Crystal. He's invincible.
Nothing can destroy him.

With an agonized shout,
Armin jerks awake. A large vein is visible near his eye, throbbing
with what he's done. Armin's gray eyes find him first, and then to
Malachi. A flare of fear flashes in them before he hides it.

"Well?"
Malachi prods.

He swallows. "She…
got away."

A muscle ticks in
Malachi's jaw.

"Sir," Armin
says, his usually strong voice soft in the silence, "she pulled
herself out at the last second. She's obviously responding very well
to the crystal. I was very close--"

"Close isn't close
enough," Malachi bites out. "You've been trained your whole
life for things like this, dream walker, and it sounds like
she
doesn't even know what she is!" He pauses, his chest heaving
with rage. The look in Malachi's eyes chills him to the bone. "How
can a mere untrained girl beat a Saguinox warrior?" he asks.
"How?" he presses when no one answers.

Malachi lets the
question linger in the air. The King comes closer to them, breathing
heavily. He's desperate. Malachi tries to hide it, but he can see
through the façade. Malachi needs the crystal.

After a lengthy
silence, Malachi gains control of his temper. "You all are my
most gifted warriors. It saddens me that this day has come." His
glowing eyes became scarlet. "Everyone leave."

Before they can leave,
he steps forward. His heart twists with heaviness. "Your
highness," he begins in an unwavering voice, bowing slightly "we
have been trained from birth to be our world's greatest soldiers, and
our enemy's greatest fear. We were raised as brothers, Armin and I
especially. When he fails it's as if I have failed also." He
looks up. "Let me carry half his punishment, and I promise you
we will not fail you again."

He can see Malachi
contemplating the request, and he knows Malachi is reluctant to allow
it. There are
some
benefits to being his favorite.

"That's not
necessary," Malachi finally answers. He smirks at Armin before
looking at me. "At least I know I can trust
you
to get
the job done."

He nods with
confidence. "Yes."

"Bring me the
carrier."

His face remains
expressionless even though his fear is growing.

"Yes," he
vows.

Malachi glances back at
Armin, noting his pale face and glazed eyes.

"Finish the girl,"
he nods in the direction of the enchained human who is half
unconscious. Armin doesn't wait to be told twice before he pounces on
her. She's hooked up to a machine. A guard presses a button.
Instantly, a river of blood flows through its plastic tubes. Another
guard waits until its sufficiently filled before unhooking the end. A
spray head is attached to it and Armin opens his mouth, bending like
he's going to drink from a human beer bong. Armin's body trembles in
anticipation. When his mouth finally closes on the opening, he sucks
at it like he's drawing in air, absorbing the liquid in a frenzy.
Scarlet blood dribbles down, staining Armin's neck and shirt, but his
need is merciless. Armin's desperation seems endless.

Watching Armin,
something steely and hard unwinds inside him: rejection. Disgust.
When he turns his eyes away, they land on Malachi who watches Armin
with a satisfied smirk. Drinking blood is a privilege that Malachi
allows for a select few. Armin makes a desperate sound, and he's not
surprised when Armin pushes the Saguinox away. Swaying, Armin reaches
for the girl, trembling to fulfill his thirst. Without hesitation,
Armin opens his mouth, revealing short canines that are barely
visible.

Like the animal he's
suddenly become, Armin bites the softest part of her body: her neck.
Desperation and the force of his hunger give him a rush of strength.
Ripping through skin and tissue, he gorges himself on her flesh. Her
terrible screams fill the small room.

Malachi laughs.

He's still; knowing to
show any weakness is to jeopardize everything he's worked for. He
endures her cries in silence. After Armin is done, he slumps to the
floor, exhausted.

"Help him to his
room," he orders. When their footsteps become nothing but
echoes, he checks the girl's pulse. It's hard to find it through torn
skin and blood, but he manages. The pulse is weak, but still there.
His heart clenches with dread for her.

"Put her with the
rest of the slaves," he says softly to the nearest guard.

"Kill her and be
done with it," Malachi snaps. "We need healthy slaves, not
half dead ones."

Rigid, he nods. "Yes,
your highness."

He holds her neck in
his hands, feeling arteries and bones. He pretends to look at her,
but he's pushing his mind away, going to somewhere no one can reach
him: his memories. He's inside one memory in particular. Her voice
fills his mind, and it's what he holds onto as he slowly chokes the
girl to death. Within seconds the light in her eyes darken, never to
shine again. He shuts her eyes as if to make it better, but it
doesn't fix anything. He knows her face will echo in his dreams just
like all the rest. A guard drags her broken body through the door to
a furnace that makes useless things disappear.

Malachi makes a sound
to get their attention, baring fangs that glint in the artificial
light. "I will be arriving in a month. Make sure the fire
crystal is ready."

He bows, desperate to
leave.

"Oh, and Rhys?"

He pauses, turning back
to face his commander.

"Don't disappoint
me," Malachi says with deadly calm.

The invisible threat
hangs in the air.

"I won't."

Saguinox Headquarters

Hot.

It's feeling very hot.
A bead of sweat rolls off his skin, and he wonders why he can even
notice it when a hologram of Malachi is right in front of him. Most
people would be trembling, especially if they knew what he knew. But
he's not, and the heat is so damn irritating. He catches the drop of
sweat, breaking it with his fingers. Malachi's glaring at him, yet he
takes his time looking up. Malachi's thinking he has a death wish.
Maybe he does.

"Are you sure this
human is the carrier?" Malachi asks again, his rumbling voice,
rupturing with his anger.

"Yes," he
answers, sounding more bored than he wants to. "Armin says that
last time her mind fought with fire. It can only mean that the fire
crystal is inside."

"Your sources have
already been wrong twice," Malachi snaps, taking a couple steps
closer. The image crackles a bit then reassembles. "Two dead
bodies and no crystal. What makes this time any different?"

A hundred answers come
to mind, but he silently counts to ten to make sure he says the right
thing. "They've been able to get their hands on something that
is proving to be very… accurate."

A low groan is emitted,
and they pause, glancing at Armin. He's been at it for longer than
normal. He see sweat building on Armin's forehead. Soon he'll be
drenched in it. Armin's sitting on a chair, both hands deceptively
still on the arms of the chair. His eyes are wide open. Only bouts of
rapid blinking belie what is truly happening.

They're all killers.

Blood stains the
fingerprints of every single one of them.

Armin's weapon is his
mind. He can kill with it. Armin's
already
killed with it.
Sometimes he wonders when the blood will haunt Armin's mind, the way
it's haunted his own.

Whimpers from the human
girl chained to the wall interrupt his thoughts. Two guards stand by
her. She sounds hoarse and weak. Her tears are dried up, and her
voice has faded with her screams. The ruby red slave dress hangs on
her thin frame, and it almost brightens the ghastly pallor of her
pale face. Almost. The crystal's taken too much of her life energy,
and when Armin takes her blood she'll be nothing but a corpse.

Malachi is abruptly no
longer interested in him. His hologram image turns away, watching
Armin. The hologram reveals clearly every detail about Malachi. He's
a distinguished looking man, older, but with a full head of dark
brown hair. Shades of gray sprinkle his hair, embellishing it like a
crown. A hint of a mustache lingers above his lips, creating an
aristocratic look demonstrating his royal heritage. He's the King of
Sangine. Commander and Chief. Prince of the Crystal. He's invincible.
Nothing can destroy him.

With an agonized shout,
Armin jerks awake. A large vein is visible near his eye, throbbing
with what he's done. Armin's gray eyes find him first, and then to
Malachi. A flare of fear flashes in them before he hides it.

"Well?"
Malachi prods.

He swallows. "She…
got away."

A muscle ticks in
Malachi's jaw.

"Sir," Armin
says, his usually strong voice soft in the silence, "she pulled
herself out at the last second. She's obviously responding very well
to the crystal. I was very close--"

"Close isn't close
enough," Malachi bites out. "You've been trained your whole
life for things like this, dream walker, and it sounds like
she
doesn't even know what she is!" He pauses, his chest heaving
with rage. The look in Malachi's eyes chills him to the bone. "How
can a mere untrained girl beat a Saguinox warrior?" he asks.
"How?" he presses when no one answers.

Malachi lets the
question linger in the air. The King comes closer to them, breathing
heavily. He's desperate. Malachi tries to hide it, but he can see
through the façade. Malachi needs the crystal.

After a lengthy
silence, Malachi gains control of his temper. "You all are my
most gifted warriors. It saddens me that this day has come." His
glowing eyes became scarlet. "Everyone leave."

Before they can leave,
he steps forward. His heart twists with heaviness. "Your
highness," he begins in an unwavering voice, bowing slightly "we
have been trained from birth to be our world's greatest soldiers, and
our enemy's greatest fear. We were raised as brothers, Armin and I
especially. When he fails it's as if I have failed also." He
looks up. "Let me carry half his punishment, and I promise you
we will not fail you again."