The Fiery Heart

Page 37

“Neil won’t want to leave Olive,” I said lamely.
“Neil’s the least important piece in this right now,” said Lissa firmly. “Besides, he’s with Sonya. She’s monitoring him for side effects.”
And so, within an hour, we were on the road. Sydney drove again, and this time, I got to ride shotgun. Every once in a while, I’d dare a covert touch to her leg or arm when I thought Neil wasn’t looking. It’d make her smile, though she always kept her eyes on the road. I enjoyed those smiles, though none of us was thrilled about the abrupt departure. Neil truly hadn’t wanted to leave Olive. And Sydney and I hadn’t want to leave our sanctuary.
“It’s darker than I’d expect,” she remarked at one point. We’d left in evening, but heavy clouds had brought the night early.
“What’d the weather report say?” I asked. There’d only been light flurries at Court, but snow was steadily increasing the further we drove.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I forgot to check.”
I put my hand to my heart in mock horror. All joking aside, it was pretty out of character for her. “Sydney Sage not prepared? What is this world coming to?”
She smiled again. “I wasn’t the one who made these travel plans.”
“Good thing you’ve got me as a sidekick.” I took out my phone and felt my levity fade when I checked my weather app. “Shit. Blizzard warning for the mountains.”
“What? Why didn’t anyone tell us?” she exclaimed.
“They probably didn’t check either. Whoever booked the flight probably just made sure it was on time. I bet Philadelphia’s not getting this mess.”
Sydney’s face grew grave, and for the first time, I truly paid attention to the conditions we were in. I could barely see the road through the thick curtain of white coming down. She sighed. “One hour into a nearly three-hour drive. Maybe we should turn around and wait this out. Any idea which direction the storm’s going?”
“Court’s at a lower elevation,” said Neil from the backseat. He probably wanted to get back to Olive. “Less snow and less twisty roads—”
Maybe it was ice on the road; maybe it was just all the snow. Maybe she was more tired than I’d thought. Whatever it was, she took a turn on the winding mountain road, and the car’s tires caught and slid, spinning us off toward the side. She screamed, and I just barely processed the pine tree before the car slammed into it and the air bags blocked my vision.
Time stopped having meaning. It seemed like both an eternity and a heartbeat before I was cognizant of my surroundings again.
It was my nightmare coming to life.
And in those seconds after the air bags deflated, when everything was still, all I could think was, Sydney is dead, and there’s nothing I can do.
I turned to her, my heart beating out of my chest, and saw her trying to unfasten the seat belt. “Thank God,” I breathed, reaching out to catch her hand. She squeezed mine, strong and confident. Remembering Neil, I was about to check on him when I heard him stirring in the back.
“Everyone okay?” he asked.
“Fine, I think,” Sydney said. “Maybe a little whiplash. Can’t say the same for the car.”
We got out to survey the damage. My legs felt weak, but it was mostly from the shock of what had just happened. I could see similar feelings on their faces, but thankfully, that was the worst of it. No real injuries. The car had hit a pine tree, crushing the front, but obviously not severely enough to crush us as well. I didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about higher powers, but if one had had a hand in this, I was grateful.
Neil knelt down to look at the smashed fender. “Could’ve been a lot worse. Whatever you did, you minimized it.”
“You just have to turn into the slide,” said Sydney, like the driving prodigy she was. “No brakes.”
“And no signal,” I said, looking at my phone. “I just lost mine.”
She took out hers. “I’ve got one.” Of course she did. Alchemist phones were probably wired into some high-tech antenna on the moon. Not that we had any view of that tonight. It was all darkness and snow out here—and bitter cold. Even in my heavier coat, the cold seeped into my bones as I waited for her to call for help.
She grimaced when she disconnected. “There’s a tow truck coming, but it may take at least an hour.”
“Then let’s get back in,” I said.
We did, only to discover the car wouldn’t start. The best we could do was hope enough warmth from earlier would linger inside. I wanted to draw Sydney into my arms, but we kept a respectful distance in the front seat. Nonetheless, out of Neil’s sight, she rested her hand on my leg.
Time wore on, and the car grew colder and colder. Sydney huddled in her parka, and I could hear Neil rubbing his hands together in the backseat. I was on the verge of saying to hell with propriety and cuddling with Sydney—maybe even Neil too—when she put her hand on the door’s handle and said, “Enough.”
To my astonishment, she walked over to the side of road, vanishing in that curtain of snow. As one, Neil and I scurried out after her. “Sydney?” I called.
We found her kneeling on a flat patch of ground that was already covered in almost a foot of snow. I was about to ask what she was doing when fire suddenly flared from her fingertips. An orb of flame soon appeared between both of her hands, about the size of a beach ball. Carefully, as though she were holding fine china, she set it down on the ground where it impossibly blazed against the snow. After studying it a few moments longer, she slowly removed her hands and rested them on her knees.
I caught my breath. I’d seen her perform this fire spell a number of times, but the progress she’d made had grown by leaps and bounds. Jackie had originally taught the fireball to her as a weapon, meant to be thrown, and had said that sustaining it in one place consumed energy. Sydney, however, seemed perfectly at ease. It was Neil whose eyes were enormous in the flickering light.
“How did you do that?” he exclaimed.
“Don’t,” she said, not looking at him. “Don’t talk.” There was a command in her voice that got through to him, and wordlessly, he joined her on the ground to take in the fire’s warmth. We sat like that for a long time, until headlights gleamed through the snow. Sydney let the fire burn until the headlights came to a halt, and then she quickly extinguished it and walked to the road.
A tow truck had pulled up to the side, and the driver stepped out, peering in the direction we’d come from. “What was that light?” he asked.
“We had a flare,” Sydney said.
The car hadn’t gone into a ditch and took only a little finagling to hook up to his tow. We helped the driver as best we could and then crowded into the truck’s cab.
“No clue how long this’ll take,” he told us, slowly pulling back to the road. “I have a feeling it’s going to be a rough night. There’s a place you can stay a few miles from here, and then I’ll take this back to our shop, which is a little past that. We’ll figure out the details in the morning.”
A few miles took a long time when driving at twenty, but at last, we could make out the lights of a small building. He took the exit and pulled up in front of a cozy establishment whose sign read POCONOS VALLEY BED AND BREAKFAST. Sydney exchanged info with the driver, and we all thanked him for coming to the rescue. He pulled away, off to save other stranded drivers.
Inside, an older woman looked up in surprise from a desk as we entered. “My goodness,” she said, getting to her feet. “I didn’t expect to see anyone tonight.”
“We didn’t expect to be here,” I told her. “Our car went off the road a few miles back.”
“You poor things. Well, we’re pretty empty tonight, so there’s no problem staying here.”
There was a kind grandmotherly air to her that made me think she would’ve let us stay for free, but her eyes certainly lit up as Sydney took out a credit card. I glanced around as they filled out the paperwork, taking in the scene. Sydney and I had recently done some investigating at a bed and breakfast that had redefined tacky. This place was its opposite, and though it was certainly rocking the antique look, everything was ornate and well decorated, showing off art in a way that wasn’t cluttered.
The innkeeper handed over three keys and gave us a brief tour of the main floor, showing us where we’d eat breakfast in the morning and where she kept snacks for guests. When we finally headed upstairs, I drew Neil back and let the women go on.
“Listen to me,” I said quietly. “Sydney may have just saved you from losing a finger from frostbite. If you really live by the code of honor you claim, you will not breathe a single word about what you saw. If you do, you will ruin her life, which would be a shitty thing to do, seeing as you owe her yours. Do we understand each other?”
Neil met my eyes for several heavy moments. “Perfectly.”
I wouldn’t have minded being able to use a little compulsion to ensure his silence, but there was something in that steady gaze that made me believe him.
Upstairs, I wanted to go to Sydney but decided to settle into my own room first. We’d retrieved our luggage before the driver left, and I tossed my suitcase heedlessly into a corner. Like the rest of the inn, the room was well done. The bed was canopied, and there were fresh flowers in vases. I ran my fingers over the soft petals of the blue hydrangeas, amazed that the innkeeper had gone that extra mile when she hadn’t even expected guests. In the bathroom, I found a large marble tub and equally impressive glass shower. Suddenly feeling grimy from the road, I took off my clothes and turned the water on high. It scalded my skin but felt wonderful after that searing cold.
When I got out, I heard the Love Phone ring with a text message. I hurried to it. Did you get it? asked Sydney.
Get what?
Look under your door.
I did and found that a room key had been slid inside. Not even bothering to respond to her, I quickly dressed and headed out into the hall, turning toward the room number on the key. I nearly knocked but then decided I must have an open invitation and unlocked the door.
I stepped inside, shutting the door behind me, and found the room was even nicer than mine. Most of the lights were off, and a blazing fire crackled in the wood-burning fireplace. Sydney sat on the bed and rose as I approached.
And she was naked.
I came to a halt, the key slipping from my hand to clang on the wood floor. My heart stopped for a few seconds and then beat faster than it ever had in my life.
“Come here,” she said in a voice that offered no arguments.
My feet moved me forward, but all I could see was her. No skill of mine, no artist anywhere, could’ve immortalized how gorgeous she was. It was impossible to believe she’d ever had any doubts about her body. The firelight shone on her skin, golden and perfect, making her look like some radiant goddess of legend. I wanted to kneel before her and offer eternal obedience.
When I reached her, she took my hands and rested them on her bare hips. I was surprised to find myself trembling. Those long-lashed eyes, brown and amber and every shade of gold, met mine with a certainty that made me feel like the novice here.
“I’m wide awake now,” she added.
I had to swallow twice before I could find my voice. We were so close. There were only a few breaths between me and the glorious body that had haunted my dreams—dreams, which it turned out, were paltry things compared with reality.
“I don’t deserve this,” I whispered. I lifted my hands so that I could cup her face. “Not after what I’ve done with my life.”
“I told you before: That chapter’s done and gone,” she said. “We aren’t the same people. We’re always changing, always becoming better. What you did with the pills . . . well, it’s not just about what they can do. It’s about the courage it took to take that step. I always believed in you, but . . .”
“I made you cry,” I said. That memory would always be a wound in my heart.
“I cried because I loved you, and I didn’t know how to fix you.” She reached up and brushed my lips with her fingertips. The world swayed around me. “And that was my mistake. You fixed yourself. You didn’t need me.”
“No, Sydney.” My voice was ragged. “I do need you. You have no idea how much I need you.”
I brought my lips down to hers, and it was like everything that had ever happened to me had simply been a warm-up for this moment, that this was where my life truly began. I pulled her to me, and if she’d ever had any doubts about whether I wanted to taste her blood, I knew they vanished then and there. It was the taste of her mouth, the taste of her skin . . . those were what I craved, the things that drove me wild. Her hands caught the edge of my shirt, and we broke the kiss briefly so that she could pull it over my head. She splayed her fingers on my chest, and this time, she was the one who shook. I looked into her eyes, and although they burned with passion and longing and that primal need that had fueled both our races since the beginning of time, I could see nervousness in them too.