Into the Fire (The Mieshka Files, Book One) (22 page)

She had taken away its power source, hadn’t she?

In the black, she heard movement. Jo pushed her along the corridor. They couldn’t stay in one spot.

Mieshka focused, feeling her fear shake her hands. This was real, wasn’t it? Movement was all around them. Soldiers trying to be quiet in combat boots. It was a game of Marco Polo. Mieshka felt sick. She strained to hear over the fountain.

Fountain? Water was just hydrogen and oxygen, right? She’d learned that in science. At a thought, the Phoenix flexed its wings.

Fire guttered briefly on the water, reflecting its surface like a cool prism.

Crack!

The bullet smacked the water. The fire sputtered out.

Jo gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Mieshka felt dumb. Trying again, she focused elsewhere.

A will o’ wisp crackled into the center of the room, big as a bonfire. Heat burned blue at its core. It glittered in the eyes of the enemy.

Ten at least.

She reached for more fire. It was not subtle. There was no fine control. Raw, it touched her soul like a sun. Power flooded her.

The soldiers lit like kindling.

They screamed.

She jerked at the noise, but Jo was already pulling her along. Shots fired, bullets biting into concrete. The room was not dark anymore. Monsters danced in the firelight, claws and teeth outlined in flickering shadow. Angry. Aggressive. Screams echoed. Mieshka tried to block them out.

At the entrance, three men barred their path. When she saw them, they burned too. Their screams joined the others. The path was clear.

Jo pressed close to her ear. “We need one to confirm what the illusionist said.”

Mieshka blew out the fire on one. Jo grabbed him as Mieshka turned the corner. She dragged him down the entrance hall, down the steps, and slumped him against a security gate.

Mieshka blinked in the sudden light. Her hands shook badly now. She almost fell down the stairs. An announcement crackled up the hallway. The screams had grown muffled. Looking back, she saw the orange light flicker on the slate walkway.

It had been so easy.

Her throat closed. Hugging herself, she focused on Jo.

“Who do you work for?” Jo was saying. The soldier’s face was red. Smoke rose from his uniform. He stared at Mieshka, eyes wide. He was also shaking.

Jo wasn’t shaking.

“Burn unit’s going to be full tonight,” the former soldier remarked. “But I’m sure she could fit you in.”

The man took her meaning.

“Cyprios Corp.”

Mieshka steeled herself. There was a job to do.

“Not what the other guy said.” Jo lied. “Maybe you don’t need your fingers. What do you think, Mieshka?”

What? Mieshka steeled herself, thinking of interrogation scenes.

“Maybe,” she squeaked.

The man’s eyes went wider.

“No, I’m telling the truth! Big tall building—”

Jo didn’t even blink. “He right-handed or left-handed, do you think?”

“It’s on 21st! I can show you, please! I—”

“He held the gun with his right. Could do it Yakuza style, joint by joint?” Jo’s voice was hard.

“No!” He grabbed his hands to his chest. Which might not have been the best idea, since Mieshka was threatening to set them on fire.

“I think he’s telling the truth,” Mieshka said.

“I am!”

“Yep.” Jo hit him with the butt of her gun. He slumped further down the wall.

Standing, Jo fixed her with a look.

“You okay?”

Mieshka glanced away. The screams had stopped. Her lip trembled. A tear streaked down her cheek.

“They’re still burning.”

Jo’s eyes softened. She took Mieshka’s shoulder and led her back.

“It’s okay. You can fix that.”

Darkness fell over them. Mieshka smelled smoke. As they walked up the entrance hallway, Jo squeezed her shoulder. “I’m right here.”

They turned the corner. Mieshka pulled up short.

The memorial looked preternatural. Clumps of fire clung to the floor. Pillars were silhouetted against the dim, flickering orange light. Downed men lay still on the floor. Motion caught her eye. The smart ones had gone for the fountain.

There wasn’t much to put out. It was quiet.

She felt sick.

People had noticed them in the doorway. One raised a gun. Mieshka flinched.

Jo shot him. Mieshka felt the recoil smash through her. The man fell with a yell.

“Anyone else?” Jo asked, her sarcasm echoing in the room. “Throw your weapons in the middle and line up against the fountain.”

By the time Buck arrived, there was a pile of guns, grenades and knives. Jo helped him drag the other three around.

Mieshka stood in front of the burnt soldiers, hugging herself. Buck raised an eyebrow when he saw her.

“You okay?”

No
, Mieshka thought. She didn’t say anything. He nodded. Maybe he’d seen something in her face.

Jo strutted up the line, twirling a confiscated knife in her fingers.

“Took you long enough. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER 14

Steam curled up from the cup. Robin gripped it in both hands. Across from her, Chris had a similar cup. With the heat soaking into her hand, the above-ground rain seemed distant.

Above-ground. Hah.

Twice, Robin had wondered if she was delusional. In her mind, the Underground shouldn’t exist. She resisted the idea. Lyarne was her city. It was boring. Plain. Normal.

She thought she knew everything.

Her eyes strayed to the rafters, where heavy steel and timber beams supported the ceiling. A hydro pole stood in the middle of the street, based in a ragged square of new concrete.

Chris watched her, quiet. In the light of the café, she saw the bruise over his eye. Bags had joined it. Propping an elbow on the table, he took a sip from his cup.

Both he and Meese had had a long night.

“Sorry,” she said. This must have been the third time she’d said that.

Chris looked into the street with a shrug. A golden retriever trotted up, scouted them for food, and moved on. Seconds later, a man walked by swinging an empty leash.

“That you didn’t believe us is proof the Underground secret is safe. The less who know, the better.”

“Then why did you tell me?”

“You’re Meese’s friend.”

Meese’s friend. Not his.

That’s right. He’d never been interested in Robin.

Her chair wobbled on the cracked sidewalk. She let go of the cup and leaned back.

“What was Meese doing today?”

Behind her, someone else answered. “Getting kidnapped.”

Her neck turned so fast it cracked. Leaning against the doorframe was a Chinese man. He wore a tight-fitting black sweater, black slacks, black shoes. His black hat shaded his eyes.

“Kidnapped?” Chris’s chair scraped as he stood.

“A couple of hours ago. The Fire crystal is gone.”

Crystal?
Hadn’t Meese said something about crystals? Where was Meese? This guy couldn’t be serious, right?

He didn’t look like he was joking.

“Then the shield…” Chris hesitated.

“Down.” Robin stared at the man. His eyes dropped to her. His stare had weight. “New girl every day?” he asked.

Chris ignored him. “What happens now?”

Who is this guy?
Robin thought. Then,
The shield is down?

He didn’t mean the city’s shield, did he?

Her elbow hooked around the back of the chair as she turned. Adrenaline spiked as he held her stare. Her nails dug into the wood. She got the feeling he was measuring her up. From inside the café, dishes clicked together, conversation rose, and warm air blew into her face.

Eventually, his eyes slid back to Chris. Robin did not relax.

“Mieshka is safe. She has tracked the crystals and found a tentative address. I have some engineers finding the Underground entrance now.” The man pulled out a gun. The metal gleamed in the café’s light. “I thought you might join us.”

Robin stared at the gun. Suddenly, she understood Meese’s fear of them. Chris was quiet. Robin didn’t look at him. Maybe it was the gun, but she didn’t want to turn her back on the man.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

They were serious. This was really happening. This was Mieshka’s world.

And Robin was Mieshka’s friend.

“You got a second one of those?” she asked.

Shadowed eyes met hers again.

“Who are you?”

“Robin.” Leaning over her chair, she extended her hand. After a moment, he stepped forward and shook it. His skin felt dry and cold.

“A pleasure to meet you. My name is Roger. You will join us as well?”

“I will.”

His lip curled. She didn’t care.

She wouldn’t be left behind again.

Flashlights moved in the tunnel, making shadows jump and stretch on the bare concrete walls. Sweat stained the air, making Chris’s hair stick to his neck. It reminded him of Terremain’s bomb shelters. The tunnel was not the clean concrete and brick he was used to. The walls were rough. Bits of old building dug into his shoulders. Dust was thick in the air. There was no light.

At the end of the tunnel, he understood, there was a door. The Cyprios Skytower’s basement. Meese had tracked the crystals there. She would attack the top, the Underground would attack the bottom.

He was far from the end. Over a hundred metres. People lined each wall, gathered like an inspection of rank. Ordinary people. Underground people. His neighbours.

The gun was heavy in his hand.

Roger passed. He was preceded by a quiet. Like clockwork, conversation halted in his presence. A thin man followed him, carrying two hard-plastic cases. They were yellow with black trim, labelled ‘’Demolitions’.

After they passed, it took a while for conversation to pick back up.

Robin stood beside him, silent. Occasionally, a flashlight cut across her face. She stared straight ahead, not blinking. She hadn’t spoken for a while. Hadn’t moved, either. She held the gun at her hip, ring finger resting on the trigger-guard.

What was she doing here? What lapse of sanity made her take that gun? This wasn’t her crowd. She hadn’t even graduated yet. What was she doing, joining a war?

He remembered that recruitment officer. The same one Mieshka had run out on. The war was on their doorstep. Mieshka had been kidnapped by the enemy.

“You okay?” he asked.

She didn’t answer.

“Roger will take care of them,” he said.

“Roger?” It sounded like a laugh.

“Yeah. He’s that guy I told you about. With the water thing.”

It took her a moment to answer. Hair fell in her face, curled from the rain. Black against her white skin.

Robin cleared her throat. “The guy that can move people?”

Good. She remembered.

“Yeah.”

Light dropped away from her face again. She became a silhouette.

Chris looked at the faces of his neighbours. Veterans stood among the ranks. Others had been trained into the Water Mage’s security. Chris was neither—just a scared kid holding a gun. Cannon fodder.

His hands slipped over the gun, sweating. Only the safety and the trigger stood between the bullet and a shot.

What was he doing here? His parents were going to kill him. If the Cyprios security team didn’t do so first.

He shivered, despite the warm air.

Let Roger go first
. Let him go first and make them all dance like puppets.

The rough tunnel became claustrophobic. Earth and steel and rubble pressed down on it. Chris could feel it. Above that, the fair city stood. Oblivious to what burrowed in the bones of its ancestor.

The sun had set. Night light rose from the streets, reflected up to the tenth floor of some buildings. Blinking safety lights crawled up the sides of others, warning aircraft to stay away.

Of course, that would not help them tonight.

High in his office, Redenbacher had watched the skyscape. It spun whenever he moved his head.

He preferred it that way. By his count, he was still a few bottles shy of oblivion.

His glass had been nearly empty for ten minutes. He considered his options at the bar.

He didn’t get up. Instead, he swept his gaze back to the sky. It had cleared from the earlier rain. He wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. Did he want to see the planes coming, or wait in ignorance?