Touching Fire (Touch Saga) (30 page)

“Wasn’t it? They wanted us. If we had just gone with them—”

“Then we’d be dead,” Archer supplied, standing a few feet behind Isaiah.

“But we could have done something. We would have found a way out,” I argued. “No one would have gotten hurt.”

“We weren’t getting out of there, Princess.”

“You don’t know that!” I exclaimed. “We just let all those people die
.” I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to remember if there were any children in the mix. I couldn’t remember, but in no way did that ease my conscience.

Isaiah’s hands found my arms and gently stroked. “
We had nothing to do with what happened in there.”

I raised my head to peer at him. “Didn’t we? What the hell happened in there? It was like they were under a spell or something.
Was it Garrison?”

Isaiah shook his head. “I don’t know. I thought
so too at first. There are people who can cause discord like that with just a thought. But I didn’t sense him.”

“Then he must have been hiding somewhere.” I glanced at our surroundings, half expecting a sleek, black limo to pull up alongside us or something. But we were on a dirt road surrounded by walls of forestry on either side. No limo in sight.

“I don’t think this was Garrison.”

I opened my mouth to ask who then, when Archer cleared his throat.

“It was me.”

I blinked. “What?”

Archer shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’m wrath,” he blurted. “Chaos and violence is my legacy.”

“You did that?” I shoved away from Isaiah. “You made those people get shot?”

Both hands went up as though that could stop me from beating on him. “I did what I had to do to protect you.”

“Protect me?”
A series of cuss words that would have horrified my mother burst from my mouth as I dove for him, fists balled. He was saved solely by the arm that hooked around my middle and pulled me back.

“You manipulated them?”
Isaiah asked.

Archer, who hadn’t so much as flinched under my assault, nodded. “I can channel human anger. I amplified it. I didn’t think those idiots would lose their damn minds.”

“What were you hoping for?” I growled, breathing hard. “Hugs?”

The corner of his mouth turned down. “A diversion. Just enough chaos so we could escape. I barely pushed. It was a tiny suggestion. Those guards, they
were looking for blood. Their rage was already at boiling point.”

“Then why would you push?” I screamed.

“Because if it wasn’t them, it would have been you!” he snarled back. “A few humans in the scheme of things was a small price.”

My leg shot out
in a hard kick. It didn’t reach him, but it felt good anyway when he jerked back.

“Why are you here?” I struggled against Isaiah’s crushing hold on me, but
his arms only tightened further.

“Because your father asked me to stay with you.”

“Why? So you could piss me off into killing you?”

He folded his arms over his chest.
“You’ll have to ask him.”

“Oh you better believe I will.”

Chapter 17

Since the earthquake I started a little over six months ago I never really fully understood what I was dealing with. With every one answer I was given, I was sucker punched with six more questions. I was beginning to think I would never understand anything. But despite all that, despite the confusion and endless fear and the constant bleed of the unknown, I always stood true to a single fact—that no one would be harmed because of me, not if I could help it. That was my creed to myself. My solemn promise. And that day, I was responsible for the death of more lives than I could ever be forgiven for. I may not have been the one to incite the slaughter. I may not have been the one to pull the trigger. But I had been there. I hadn’t stopped it. It had been done because of me. But worse of all, I had run. I hated myself more than I could ever hate Archer.

I pulled Isaiah aside.
“Why is he here?”

Isaiah pressed his eyes closed as though saying a
silent prayer before focusing on me once more. “Ashton thought it would be best if he tagged along until we got to Quebec.”

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It matters!” My voice cut through the clearing. The wind snatched it up and
pitched it through the branches. Leaves rustled as though in fear of my anger. Isaiah didn’t so much as quiver though. “Tell me.”

He turned his gaze away from mine and stared hard at my hand on his arm.
“Garrison isn’t the only one after you anymore, Fallon. There are things from that world that are looking for you and not just because your father is Acheron Reaghan, ruler of Luxuria.” He dampened his lips, raised his eyes to mine. “People of Agartha can’t … they can’t know about you. They can’t know that you have a foothold in two worlds. They can’t know…” I heard the creak of his teeth as he gritted his jaw. His hands closed over my elbows, each finger bruising. His voice dropped so low I had to strain to hear him over the whipping wind. “I can protect you from Garrison. I can keep you safe from everything in this world. But I can’t…” His nostrils flared. The muscle in his cheek flexed. “I can’t protect you from
them
.”

I followed his gaze
to where Archer stood, leaning against the side of the car. He was staring into the trees, his hands lost in the depths of his pockets. Strands of platinum blonde blew across his brow. Had I not wanted to take a baseball bat to the back of that perfectly proportioned skull, I would have compared him to a condemned angel cast down from heaven for his indiscretions.

“I don’t need protect
ion from them.” I tipped my head back to squint up into Isaiah’s face. “What I need is to get out of this province, get to Quebec, see that Galeen guy and get us both to Brazil just like we planned.”

He shook his head. “Not yet. We need him until we can get
there. It’s only for a little while longer.”

“He’s crazy!” I hissed. “He
just massacred at least thirty people.”

“We’re almost at the border, Fallon. It’s only a few more hours. Once we cross, we’ll go our separate ways.
Look, do you think I like trusting your safety to someone else? I hate it as much as you do. I more than hate it. But if I can get you out of this country and somewhere safe, I’ll join forces with Garrison himself to make it happen.”

I sucked in air until my lungs were at bursting capacity. I held it, listening to my heart pounding in my ears before releasing it all in a slow exhale.

“Fine, but if he kills one more person, I will smother him in his sleep.”

Reluctantly
, I stepped back and watched as he ambled over to where Archer stood. The two exchanged words I couldn’t hear. There were a lot of nods and hand gestures. Finally, Isaiah motioned me into the car. I trudged forward and claimed my place as co-pilot. Archer bowed dramatically and dumped his frame into the back. I might have flipped him off.

No one spoke through the drive. After about five minutes of silence, I reached for the radio. If anyone could shine some light on the disaster tak
ing over North America, it was those armed with a mic and a camera.

Static crackled through every channel but one.

“Mass fires have broken out throughout the city, devouring homes, business and offices. At last count, over three hundred men, women and children have been admitted to hospitals throughout the Southern Interior of BC. Several hundred more have gone missing. Authorities have yet to uncover the cause of this unnatural outbreak, but have confirmed they believe it to be act of terrorism. At this time, no demands have been made from those responsible.”

I smacked the radio off.

“Everything was fine five months ago,” I said, shaking my head. “How did it get so bad in such a short time?”

“Or maybe it was a slow brewing war and we’re only feeling it now,” Archer supplied. “Nothing ever happens overnight. Destruction like this takes careful planning and a twisted mind.”

“Should I ask where you were five months ago?”

I knew I was being ridiculous. Five months ago, he was with us in Luxuria
, but I was still angry over what had happened at the diner. I didn’t think I would ever forgive him for that.

Beneath the gleam of the sun
slicing off his glasses, his mouth quirked. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “This isn’t my style.”

“Guys, please!” Isaiah interrupted loudly. “We still have a whole lot of driving between now and when we reach
Quebec and I’m not a saint. So can we just not talk until we can part ways?”

Isaiah wasn’t kidding. The drive was excruciating. The further east we went, the heavier the forest became. Dry pavement whitened with snow
and the rolling flatlands speared up into mountains. Four hours of driving in complete silence except for the roar of the engine and splash of slush beneath tires was enough to make any one edgy. But by the time we rolled through
Golden
and headed east on Highway 1, it was evident that something was terribly wrong.

Armored military transport vehicles rumbled past us, carting soldiers armed to the teeth
. Troops marched on foot from dome-shaped shelters. Highway 1 was a barricade of stalled cars and angry pedestrians. Horns blared under aggravated fists. Voices rose over the howling winds. I looked to Isaiah and got a shrug of uncertainty.

The sudden rap on the driver’s side window had us all jumping in our seats.
A soldier, face heavily concealed behind googles and a facemask, peered back at us. He motioned with a gloved hand for us to roll down the window. Isaiah did, letting in a blast of icicle spiked air.

“Where are you headed?” came the muffled question.

“We’re just on our way to Alberta,” Isaiah explained.

The soldier shifted. It wasn’t a threatening motion, but it wasn’t comforting either. He was on high alert and it made me wonder what exactly he was waiting to happen.

“You are aware that all transportation in and out of the province is prohibited?”

Isaiah shook his head. “No, we weren’t aware.
”

“
What’s in Alberta?”

“Just visiting family.”

“Whereabouts?”

Isaiah shrugged. “Red Deer area.”

The soldier said nothing for several disturbing minutes. Meanwhile, I tried to keep my face neutrally blank. But I had no idea what neutral looked like. If I smiled, I might look guilty. If I scowled, I might appear hostile. If I sat there looking vacant, he might think I was a lunatic. Then I had to worry about my hands, do I fold them, let them sit flat in my lap, do I stuff them between my knees so he wouldn’t see them trembling? Having been so lost in what I should and shouldn’t do to appear not guilty, I started when he spoke again.

“Why don’t you three pull up over there?” He jabbed the end of his gun in the direction of a makeshift parking area. There were other cars there, being searched by soldiers and dogs.

“Shit.” I heard Archer mutter from the backseat as Isaiah rolled up the window and eased out of line.

“
It’s fine. Just be cool!” I turned in my seat and I saw his face. He was chalky with a green tinge. “What?” I demanded.

“
Dogs,” he muttered, his white lips barely moving. “I hate dogs.”

“Seriously?”

He shifted in his seat, dragging his long hands down the length of his thighs. “Yeah, sorry, Princess, but I can’t be here when they let
Cujo
loose.”

Before I could ask him what the hell he was doing, he had torn his
rawel from his pocket and was cutting a gash across his palm with the tip.

“Are you crazy?” I hissed. “Stop that! The guy saw you. He’s going to—”

The rawel was speared into the floor of the car. A blue light erupted, bright like a camera flash and then he was gone. He was gone and we were suddenly surrounded by no less than two dozen soldiers with tactical rifles aimed at our heads.

“Put your hands up
on the dash!” someone shouted.

I cast Isaiah a terrified glance before raising my
trembling hands and resting them lightly on the warm dash. Isaiah did the same.

“It’s going to be okay,” he told me, barely moving his lips. “Don’t resist. Just do what they say.”

Duh!
I wanted to snap, but my words had turned to paste at the back of my throat. I was so scared I was sure I was about to embarrass myself all over the leather seat.

“It’s okay,” he said again. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

Did that also include not letting them throw me into a maximum prison for women? I never got the chance to ask when the doors were yanked open and we were forcibly dragged from the car.

Muddy slush
cushioned my fall, it also made itself home up my nostril and down my top as I was shoved face down onto the ground. Scarred boots took up my line of vision as voices shouted for me to stay down and put my hands behind my head. It was both amusing and mortifying just how badly I wanted to cry, which was kind of funny considering I’d been through worse. Yet somehow being captured by Garrison and nearly killed several times hadn’t felt as real as getting arrested by people I had been raised all my life to fear and respect. Plus I had seen enough terrorist movies to know nothing we were about to say would make a difference. Not when the entire country was under attack. Not when they were suspecting everyone of being a threat and definitely not when they just saw a mysterious flash of light come from our car. We’d be lucky to even get a trial. They might even make us disappear entirely in some high end prison no one knew about.

“It’s going to be okay.”
I heard Isaiah’s voice murmur quietly into my mind.

It wasn’t okay. We were about to get arrested.
Then, when they learned about what happened at the park and at the diner, we would go away for life.

“Fallon, shh. I won’t let that happen.”

A sob melted into the snow beneath my cheek.

Bruising hands grabbed my arms. They were wrenched
brutally behind my back and restrained by plastic zip ties. I was hauled to my feet and slammed into the hood of the car. The air left me and I lay slumped over, working hard to catch my breath. Across from me, Isaiah was doing the same, except breathing hard. He was calm. His blue eyes met mine. Behind him, no less than four soldiers stood with their weapons trained on his back. I was sure there were men behind me as well, but I couldn’t bring myself to look.

“Check the car!” someone said and footsteps moved to do as was commanded.
“Find that light.”

Doors were wrenched open and our stuff was thrown out onto the ground.
Our duffles were turned inside out, the articles ransacked. Someone popped the trunk and stuff I had no idea was back there was tossed out. I tried to see what it was, but one of the soldiers took that moment to grab Isaiah by the back of the neck and jerk him up.

“What’s all this?”

Dear God, please don’t let it be drugs. Please don’t let it be drugs.
I prayed. Why hadn’t we thought to check back there?

“Looks like camping
gear,” Isaiah answered simply.

“Looks like,” the soldier said. “Thinking of doing some camping?”

Isaiah glanced at him. “Is that a crime?”

The soldier gave Isaiah a shove that sent him staggering a step. “Are you being cute with me?”

“No ID, sir,” someone from behind me said. “No registration for the car either.”

The man holding Isaiah grabbed him and spun him around. “You have some explaining to do, son.”
He let Isaiah go and stepped back. “Take them inside. Keep them separate.”

Gloved hands snatched at me, dragging me away from the car and shoving me toward the makeshift shelters. I prayed to God it was somewhere warm. I didn’t have a jacket and what clo
thes I was wearing were wet, which didn’t help with my trembling.

The
inside consisted of a small, square table, two chairs and nothing else. I wondered if Isaiah’s interrogation dome was the same. There were two windows on either side of the door, but they had their drapes shut.