Toxic Heart (33 page)

So Jarek
isn’t
working with my brother. He just wanted more power, and he saw Davida’s heart as an opportunity. And he wasn’t the one who ratted us out to Kyle—in fact, there was no rat. This entire time, it was Elissa working behind the scenes. It was just an unfortunate coincidence that Jarek brought along the sweatshirt that I’d hidden my locket in.

“I suppose your friend Davida never imagined that her heart would be serving me when she died,” Elissa says.

Once again, she extends her fingertips and rays of dark-green energy burst from them like deadly streamers. She brings her hands in front of her, weaving the rays of light together the way Ryah did on Turk’s motorcycle. They form a threaded platform extending from the catwalk to the floor near us.

With a flick of her fingers, Elissa blends the rays together into a single sheet of green; tiny ripples run across the surface, and the sheet begins to indent in various places, revealing itself as a set of stairs.

Elissa climbs over the railing, first one leg, then the other, slowly descending. There’s a soft clink as she steps onto the cement floor.

“Show-off,” Landon says, pointing to the metal ladder at the far side of the room. “You could have just used that.”

Elissa laughs. “And how is that any fun?”

She fans out her arms and the sheet of green energy oscillates and separates into individual rays of light.

“You’re going down, traitor.” Landon snarls, then extends his own rays. They’re a softer green than Elissa’s, and shorter.

“Careful, Landon,” I say, but he ignores me and steps forward. “She’s dangerous.”

“I would listen to Aria Rose,” Elissa says, curling her lips upward. Her eyes burn with the same emerald color as her energy. “One wrong move and your friend Jarek here could just … die.”

Elissa whips one of her hands into the air.

A jolt of energy blasts Jarek right in the stomach. His entire body swings on the hook, and he lets out muffled cries of pain.

“Aria,” Elissa says calmly. “Tell your friend to retract his claws.”

I turn to Landon. He’s seething with anger, though he must know he’s not a match for her.

Then again, there are five of us and only one of her. I wish we could communicate without Elissa’s hearing, to plan an attack against her. Shannon and Ryah have their eyes trained on Elissa, perhaps thinking the same thing I am. Turk is staring at me; he raises his eyebrows, but if he’s trying to send me a message, I have no idea what it is.

“Back off,” I say to Landon. “For now. Let’s hear her out.”

“Fine,” Landon says in a deep voice. The light from his hands disappears. “But I’m not happy about this.”

“None of us are.” I turn back to Elissa. “What do you want?”

She laughs. “Power, of course. I thought you knew me well enough by now to realize that.” She closes her fists and the rays of light disappear from her fingertips, leaving both of her hands a scorching green; she’s ready to attack at any moment.

“And now I’m going to have it.
Loads
of it,” Elissa continues. “Once I transfer the power from Davida’s heart into my body, I will be the most powerful mystic there has even been—as powerful as a Sister.” She stares longingly at the cooler. “Intact mystic hearts are so rare, and one as special as Davida’s …”

“I still don’t understand what you want with Jarek,” Shannon says, a slight quaver in her voice. “Let him go.”

“I don’t give two shakes about
Jarek
,” Elissa barks. “He could die in an instant and the world would keep on spinning.” She shifts her gaze around the room and steps around Jarek’s hanging body.

“You’ve been a pretty little fool, Aria Rose. You had it all, and you sacrificed it for true love. And where did that get you?” Elissa motions to the rest of our group. “I don’t see your dearly beloved here. Trouble in paradise?”

“At least I’m not a liar,” I say. “Or a murderer.”

Elissa shakes back her hair. “Call me whatever you want, Aria. I know what I want and I
take
it. You don’t know what you want, so you let others make decisions for you. You’re a nuisance, and if it were up to me, you’d be in the ground already.”

Elissa creeps closer to me. I can smell her crisp, barely-there perfume—a mixture of white lilies and pear. “But you still seem to be important to your parents, and to the revolution. So you’re going to come with me.”

She reaches out to grab my wrist, but Landon pushes me out of the way. “Aria!” he shouts. “The heart!”

There’s a burst of green light as Elissa punches her arms in front of her. The sickening sound of mystic energy against bare skin fills the room as Landon is thrown backward against the wall and crumples to the floor.

Elissa shouts something, but I can’t hear what it is. The windows are beginning to shake. I whip my head back to see Ryah crouched on the floor, her blue hair in sharp contrast to the energy
swirling around her, which is throwing dust from the floor into the air.

Ryah’s energy flickers like the start of a fire: she knots her electric green rays into a tangle that grows brighter by the second. The knot begins to lengthen and spin in tiny circles, widening as it extends into the air.

Hints of red and orange shimmer in the green of Ryah’s energy as the rays burst upward into a full-blown miniature cyclone that hisses and sputters.

Jarek continues to thrash in the middle of the room as Shannon blasts Elissa in the stomach. Elissa uses her energy like a shield, reflecting the burst of energy back at Shannon, who ducks in time to see her own ray double back and shatter a hole in the wall behind her. Meanwhile, Landon is pushing himself to his feet.

Sweat pours down Ryah’s forehead as her cyclone of energy bursts into flames that roar as they expand, licking the high ceiling. The cyclone continues to spin, gaining speed. Ryah stands and pushes her arms away from her. The tip of the cyclone, closest to her fingers, tilts forward, changing the direction of the fire so that it’s spinning out toward Elissa. Yellow and orange flames mix together, and smoke begins to fill the room.

Ryah makes a circle with her right arm. She pushes the tip of the cyclone toward the center of the swirling mass of flames. The cyclone collapses inward, becoming more focused. The flames grow angrier.

From my spot on the floor, I watch as Ryah makes a pinching motion with two fingers, and the cyclone, which now looks like a long funnel, begins spewing forth tiny balls of fire.

The first burst of flames is no bigger than my fist. Ablaze with mystic energy, the fireball soars directly toward Elissa.

Elissa’s eyes widen. She’s impressed. A flicker of fear crosses her face.

But then she springs into action.

Ryah’s projectile sails straight for Elissa, followed by another, then another in quick succession. Just as the flames are about to kiss her forehead, Elissa bends backward, pressing her hands to her chest.

Green energy shoots up her skin, flooding her face with light. Her entire head glows green, her cheeks and lips and nose turning a dark olive.

She exhales, and energy flares from her mouth.

The fireballs suddenly stop their trajectory toward Elissa, coming together in a mass of green, yellow, and red flames that burns so brightly I’m scared the entire room will explode like a supernova.

The flames bounce back toward Ryah, who freezes, terrified.

“Move!” Turk calls.

Landon, now on his feet, hollers, “Watch out!”

But it’s too late.

Elissa’s energy meets the cyclone, which turns against Ryah and circles the flames back at her. They catch her clothes and hair and skin, consuming her in a magic show of light and energy. She screams in horror and pain, and I smell burning flesh.

“Ryah!” Shannon and Landon shout, rushing over to her.

Gray smoke fills the air, seeping into my lungs and making me cough. I duck low and crawl toward the cooler. Just behind the wavering walls of green energy lies Davida’s heart.

I can’t let Elissa have it.

Staring at the cooler, I realize there is no way around the force field—not even from above.

Quivering in fear, I thrust my arm right through it.

A shock of energy runs through me, frying my skin as if I’d poked my finger into an electric socket. I’m thrown backward, and my head slams on the cement. My hand throbs with pain. I glance down: my fingers are blackened.

“Turk!” I call, but he can’t hear me—because Elissa is attacking him, shooting rays of energy that curl around Turk’s legs like hungry snakes.

He fires off rays of his own, but it’s no good. Elissa’s beams crawl up Turk’s limbs, covering his torso in what looks like emerald-green wiring. They travel down his arms, encase his hands, and wrap around his chest like some sort of mystic straightjacket, so quickly that Turk barely has time to react before he is immobilized.

In the center of the room, Jarek is shifting his weight, apparently trying to break the chain off the ceiling hook.

I cradle my burned hand against my chest. Shannon and Landon are still trying to douse the fire around Ryah, who’s gone silent.

With Turk encased in mystic light, Elissa pivots on her heels, heading straight for Shannon.

“Watch out!” I cry.

Shannon hears me, turning just in time to duck Elissa’s rays of energy. She rolls out of the way, and the energy pierces the wall behind her, making another hole. This time, it’s so big that the wall begins to crumble, and the space behind it is exposed—a labyrinth
of rusty pipes that explode on contact. Water gushes into the room, covering the concrete.

Water
, I think.
That can put out the fire
.

Thankfully, I’m not the only one who realizes this.

Landon immediately goes into action, sucking in a breath of smoky air and stretching out his arms. His energy rays connect with the water, casting a green sheen over the rusty liquid spewing from the broken pipes.

Then he yanks back the rays, pulling the water with him so that it gushes into the room. There’s a slap as the water hits the concrete with the speed of a waterfall, crashing over Ryah, encircling her.

The fire dies with an anguished hiss.

Landon lowers his arms and the swirls of water break away.

Ryah lies on the ground, unmoving. She’s unrecognizable—even her hair is gone, the fine blue strands burned to a crisp. I can’t tell whether she’s dead or alive.

“Finally,” Elissa says to me. “You’re all mine.”

But before she reaches me, I hear the sound of water again.

To my side, Landon is crouched near the floor, concentrating so hard his entire body is shaking. His lithe arms seem suddenly tremendous to me, full of strength.

The water on the ground begins to bubble, as though Landon is heating it with his energy. The bubbles swell and begin to rise.

Elissa shakes her head in disbelief. “What the—”

The bubbles begin to erupt, spurting jets of water into the air. They jump across the room, spreading out until nearly half the space is covered with liquid.

Landon brings his arms together and stands, manipulating the
water upward into a swirling bluish wall. It foams and churns as its center begins to spin toward Elissa, morphing into a pointed cone. It keeps extending, growing thinner and longer as Landon continues to draw in water from the swamped hallways of the warehouse.

When the swirling water resembles a sharp spear, Landon attacks, throwing his arms forward so swiftly they seem like they might fly off his body. The water-spear moves toward Elissa and begins to freeze midair.

The liquid turns to ice, crystallizing with a thousand tiny crackles. The ice glistens, shiny as silver, sharp as a sword.

Elissa looks around frantically for somewhere to hide, but her feet seem glued to the ground.

The frozen missile launches right into the center of Elissa’s chest like an ice pick.

She glances down in disbelief.

For a second, her face softens. She looks calm. Peaceful.

And then an explosion of green light fills the room, shattering the windows and twisting the catwalk into a hunk of metal that clatters to the ground.

Landon cries out in agony; pure white light pours out of every inch of his body, illuminating him like some sort of angelic being.

The ice melts in a split second. Water pours over everything.

I am thrown backward onto the concrete. A beautiful shattering of energy fills the room like a shower of stars, spilling over everything—gorgeous reds and blues and greens, and then, like the aftermath of fireworks, nothing but black.

The room is calm when I wake. It’s the sort of quiet that’s a sound itself—as powerful as any shout or cry or thunderstorm.

I open my eyes.

Pain spikes up my side and through my blackened hand. I try to move my arm, but it feels like the entire right side of me is broken.

Smoke lingers in the room, filling my nostrils. My lungs are still burning, and the back of my head throbs where I smacked it against the concrete.

With my left arm, I push myself to a seated position and then stand. I’m wobbly, but I make it.

Everyone else is on the floor.