Flameout (30 page)

“Oh, it is. Frederick, do please stop them for the moment.”

Frederick had to be close, because that order hadn't been spoken very loudly. Energy swirled, and the runes stilled. I blew out a relieved breath, even though the danger wasn't over yet. Not for Sam, not for me, not for those who waited underground. Not when that witch was still on the loose.

I stepped sideways, pointedly putting myself between Sam and the building Luke was hiding in. And in the process, ensuring the nearest manhole cover now lay in a direct line between him and me.

“And you think that shielding him will make any difference? Surely even you are not that foolish.”

He finally stepped free of the building's shadows. I watched him through narrowed eyes. After a second, I saw it. The dome that protected him sat a couple of inches away from his body and gave off a very faint
shimmer every time his left leg moved. And
that
meant the charm from which it originated was either in his left pants pocket or—more likely—strapped to his left ankle.

I continued to watch him, my breath catching in my throat as he approached the old manhole cover.
Please let this work
 . . .

I dropped my gaze to the nearby weapons, but he stopped too soon, and I silently swore. Three inches more and he would have been standing on that cover—that
metal
cover, made of old iron and naturally impervious to magic.

He threw his arms wide. “By all means, have a go, dear Emberly. I think you will find yourself no more successful than any sharpshooter would have been.”

I didn't move. Didn't reply. I just silently willed him to take a step. Just one damn
step
.

Em,
said Jackson.
Got word. Cloaks moving.

I silently swore.
Tell Adán and Dmitri to go. We can't wait any longer.

There was no immediately reply, but a heartbeat later, a low rumbling began, the sound distant at first but quickly gathering speed and strength. The ground underneath us began to quiver, and the old buildings around the intersection shuddered and shook.

Luke swore and looked around, his expression one of confusion. “What the fuck—”

The quivering grew more violent and—with little fanfare—the building behind him partially collapsed. A huge cloud of dust and debris rolled outward, momentarily erasing him from sight. I twisted around and threw myself at Sam, knocking him down to
ground. It was a decision that probably saved both our lives, because I'd barely hit the road when something cut through the space where we'd been standing only seconds before and pinged off the lamppost on the curb behind us.

Bullets.

I twisted around and half rose, and then froze as the dust cleared a little. Luke was standing five feet in front of me, a gun clenched firmly in one hand.

And the damn sewer cover was now three feet
behind
him rather than three inches in front of him.

“What have you done?” His voice was tight with anger and madness gleamed in eyes.

“Nothing more than create a three-meter-wide trench around this entire area and, in the process, destroy all sewer access points and stop your swarm from leaving Brooklyn.”

“Not even
you
can cause such destruction, Emberly. Especially not when your magic has been curtailed.”

That he called it “magic” suggested that neither he nor his witch truly understood what, exactly, a phoenix was. Which was probably why I'd still been able to access the mother the last time they'd tried to contain my fire. They hadn't understood the connection and therefore hadn't built enough inhibitors into their spell.

Which
didn't
mean they hadn't learned from that experience. And I certainly wasn't about to remove Grace's charm to find out.

“I didn't have to. PIT were also listening to your call, remember, and three hours is a whole lot of time to arrange a surprise or two.”

He snorted. “Not even PIT or the military has the power to cause
that
sort of destruction in a city as populated as Melbourne. They wouldn't dare.”

“They didn't have to. Not when it's easier to call in a couple of earth fae to do the task for them.”

For a minute, he didn't say anything. He simply stared at me, his expression cool, detached. I didn't like that look. Not one little bit.

“Clever,” he said eventually. “But perhaps not clever enough.”

With that, he fired. I reacted instinctively and threw up a thick wall of the mother's fire, not just to protect myself, but the man who lay helpless on the ground behind me. The bullets hit it and almost instantly began to melt; by the time they'd breach the flames, they were little more than a stream of molten metal that plopped softly to the ground at my feet.

I pushed all the way up, fire dripping from my clenched fists. Luke's eyes were wide and disbelieving. “You can't do that. You shouldn't be able to do that.”

I raised a hand and threw a ball of fire. It bounced harmlessly off the field that surrounded him and spun off into the remains of the old building instead, but the power of the blow was enough to force him back a step.

“Guess your tame witch was wrong.”

I hit him again. Another step back.

A scream rent the air, then another, and another, until it was a chorus of hideous cries that ringed the intersection. The cloaks weren't trying to get out of Brooklyn anymore.

They were here.

I flung out a hand; fire erupted from the earth and quickly began to surround the intersection. But even the mother's force wasn't fast enough, because there were cloaks inside her circle and they were coming straight at us.

I swore and this time raised a wall around Sam's prone body. Then I turned to face Luke—just in time to see him pull the trigger yet again. I flung myself to one side but wasn't quick enough. Not by half.

The bullet ripped through my shoulder and spun me around. I hit the ground hard and, for several heartbeats, saw nothing but stars.

Then the high-pitched screams of the insane cut through the pain and I looked to see a cloak in the air, his clawlike hands reaching for my throat.

I plucked a sliver of fire from the wall that surrounded Sam, wrapped it around the cloak's neck, and cindered him in an instant. As his soot began to rain around me, I twisted around and flung another ball of flame at Luke. Once against it bounced harmlessly off the magic that protected him, but it forced him back that one vital step.

He was standing on the manhole cover.

“Now, Rory, left leg,” I screamed, and scrambled to my feet.

Fire erupted from the manhole, the force of it so strong it lifted both the cover
and
Luke high into the air. He screamed, eyes wide, as fingers of flame crawled over the metal and wrapped around his left leg. His screaming grew louder and the smell of burning flesh
began to stain the air. There was a brief, sharp explosion, but then the slight shimmer surrounding Luke died abruptly.

He was mine.

As the fire still streaming from the manhole began to form human shape, I curled a fiery lance around Luke's neck and flung him roughly to the ground.

“Behind you!” Jackson shouted.

I spun and saw three cloaks coming straight at me. Fire erupted from my body, forming a wall of fire, but they were far too close, and going far too fast. They hit it hard but kept on coming, their flesh aflame and fury and determination in their eyes. Luke might be held captive by fire, but he was still very much in control of this lot.

They hit me as one, and we went tumbling in a mass of arms and legs and screaming, biting flesh. I cursed and became spirit, surging out from underneath them . . .

Only to hear Sam's scream. Fuck, the runes had been activated again.

Rory surged toward me, his spirit form fierce and bright in the night. “Go,” he said. “Jackson and I will take care of the cloaks.”

“Thanks.”

I spun and streamed toward Sam. Several cloaks were tearing uselessly at the firewall that surrounded and protected him, not seeming to care that every time they hit the flames a little more of their flesh was cindered. I flicked several streams of the mother's fire around their bodies and quickly killed them, then went through the wall. Just for an instant, the mother's power surged through every part of me, her call evocative,
sensual. Then Sam screamed again, and I was through, becoming flesh from the feet up.

There was blood everywhere, and Sam was fighting, bucking in agony as the claws reached deep inside his chest, reaching for his heart.

I was close, so damn close to losing him. . . .

I dropped beside him and pulled the blade and the water from my bra. In the depths of his blue eyes I saw a desperate battle—one I'd seen many a time over the years. It was the will to live fighting against the belief that death was the better path.

“Sorry,” I muttered as I flipped the knife open. “But as I told you once before, I didn't save your ass only to have these bastards snatch it away again.”

He didn't say anything—
couldn't
say anything—but the cheek muscle was in overdrive mode again and despite his very obvious agony, his eyes burned with emotion. What sort of emotion I didn't dare guess, because that would lead only to false hope.

He screamed again. I swore, raised the knife, and cut him open from left breast to right, and in the process, sliced right through the middle of the little black runes. They reacted instantly to the touch of silver, retracting into a thick ball of hissing, slashing snakes. I uncorked the vial of holy water with my teeth then poured it over both the runes and the wounds they'd created. Steam began to vent from both, and the runes screamed and twisted and slashed uselessly at the air. I sat back on my heels and waited. The seething black blob grew smaller and smaller, until there was nothing left but a tiny twisting speck. Then that, too, was gone, and Sam took a deep, shuddering breath.

“That's a fucking awesome bedside manner you have there, Red.” His voice was thick and edged with pain, but never in my life had I heard a sweeter sound. “Not sure the medical board would approve the use of an unsterilized knife, though.”

I laughed, even as tears stung my eyes. “Probably not.”

His gaze dropped to my shoulder. “You've been shot.”

“Yes.” Thankfully, becoming spirit, however briefly, had cauterized the wound and stopped the bleeding.

He half raised his good hand, and I caught it in mine. Just for an instant, all the years and all the misunderstandings seemed to melt away, and we were as we had been: a man and a woman who were meant to be.

Then something flickered in his eyes and he said, “I can't—”

I pulled my fingers from his and tried to ignore the pain knifing into my heart. Damn it, when would I ever learn? “Don't move—”

“Em, it's not—”

“Medical help isn't far away,” I said, ignoring him. “And I've still got cloaks and a madman to attend to.”

“Luke is mine—”

“No,” I cut in again. “He's not. He never was.”

With that, I rose and stepped through the mother's wall. Her call was stronger this time, a warning that my strength was on the wane even if the adrenaline still coursing through my body meant I couldn't yet feel her pulling at my strength.

Both Rory and Jackson were standing in front of Luke. Around them was a sea of dead—or rather, the
broken and burned remains of them, intermingled with the soot and debris of the building that had collapsed and those that still burned. I stopped beside Rory and briefly twined my fingers through his, needing the comfort and strength of his touch.

“I think you can release the mother,” he said.

“What about the witch?”

“Probably long gone, if he has any sense,” Jackson said. He nodded toward Luke. “What are we going to do with this scum?”

“What we came here to do.”

“PIT won't be pleased.”

“Like I give a fuck right now.” I released the mother, felt her sigh of regret deep within as she faded away, then stepped closer to Luke. Hatred burned deep in his eyes.
That
wasn't exactly new, but the fear was. “Where are the scientists, Luke?”

He hawked and spat. It sizzled away long before it got anywhere near me. “That was decidedly unpleasant. Do it again and I'll burn your eyes out of their sockets. Where are the
scientists
?”

“Give me a decent reason to tell you, and I just might. I mean, right now I'm standing on the edge of death, and it's not like telling you will actually pull me away from that.”

“No, but it will be the difference between a quick death or a long one.”

“Just kill him,” Sam croaked. “They have to be in Brooklyn somewhere. Without him to control the red cloaks, we can get rid of them easily enough, then search the city until we find the scientists.”

“Good luck with that, brother.”

There was a decidedly smug note in his tone that had my gaze narrowing. “Does that mean they're
not
in Brooklyn?”

Luke's eyebrows rose. “As I said, give me a—”

A shot rang out and, for the second time that night, Luke's head exploded—only this time, it
was
him and not a decoy. Blood and bone and brain matter sprayed across my face, and horror and fire instinctively surged. A second later, Rory hit me, pulling me to the ground as another shot rang out. It pinged against the asphalt inches from our toes and ricocheted into the night.

“Shooter, on the roof to our right,” Jackson said.

I twisted around and saw the silhouette of a man a second before a huge ball of flame smothered the view and arced toward him. It hit the guttering rather than the man, and the whole building erupted into flame.

“Fuck,” Rory muttered. “Jackson doesn't muck around, does he?”

“Control
has
been something of an issue.” I scrambled to my feet. Jackson was already running toward the building. “Could you look after Sam for me? The two of us can hunt the bastard down.”