Wildfire
Page 24
A creature waited next to him, indigo blue, with a spray of ghostly black and paler blue rosettes and spots across its fur. At least two and a half feet tall at the shoulder, six feet long, with a thick neck crowned with a fringe of tendrils, a short wide muzzle with dagger teeth, and wide paws as big as my hand. It reminded me of a tiger.
Two bat-apes crouched by Vincent, one by his feet and the other on the table behind him. On the right, fifteen feet away, the third bat-ape sat over Edward’s body. Edward lay on his back on the blue rug. A wet wound gaped in his stomach. The third bat-ape was digging in it with its claws. Edward’s eyes were open and filled with pain.
Rynda stood behind Edward, her arms around her two children, her face a bloodless mask.
If I killed Vincent, it would cure everything that was wrong with this picture.
“Run!” I barked, and fired.
The world snapped back to its normal speed in a roar of gunfire. The bat-ape by Vincent’s feet jerked upright, throwing itself into the path of the bullet meant for the summoner. I’d missed by a tiny fraction of a second.
I pumped three bullets into the bat-ape. Its head jerked with each impact, but it still stayed upright.
Four.
Five.
Rynda didn’t move. She just stood in the same spot like a deer in headlights. Damn it.
The creature by Edward leaped over his body and charged me. I pivoted and put six bullets into its skull. It toppled over. I spun back. The first bat-ape sprawled on the floor, dead. The last bat-ape had taken its place, blocking Vincent.
Only one shot left. I put it into the bat-ape’s left lower eye, ejected the magazine, brought the other out . . .
“I wouldn’t,” Vincent said.
The feline beast snarled, a strange sound that was half pissed-off tiger and half the deep bellow of a sea lion. The fringe of bright blue tendrils, six inches long, rose in a collar around its throat, the thickened ends glowing with bright blue. His huge maw gaped open, his dagger teeth an inch from Rynda’s daughter.
“This was fun,” Vincent said. “Drop the magazine.”
I opened my hand and let it fall to the floor.
“Put the gun down.”
I crouched and lowered the weapon to the floor.
“Kick it.”
I gave the Baby Desert Eagle a nudge with my foot. The gun slid across the floor to the left side. If I threw myself down, I’d be able to grab it. If I could get close enough to Vincent, I could shock him.
The last bat-ape, Vincent’s new meat shield, crouched, revealing the summoner. Vincent was about Rogan’s age, handsome, dark brown hair, a square jaw, dark eyes, and the perfect amount of scruff on a dimpled chin—generations of all the right genes in all the right places.
If I lunged at him, the bat-ape would tear me apart.
Vincent rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I have to say this. You there, dashing male secretary! Drop the frying pan.”
The pan clattered to the floor behind me.
Vincent smiled.
That languid, assured smile told me everything I needed to know: none of us would walk out of here alive. He would kill me and Cornelius, then he would finish off Edward, Rynda, and the kids. Vincent was one of those people who derived pleasure from wielding power over others, and there was no greater power than life or death. He would toy with us, like a cat with an injured bird, then he would kill us.
“The next time someone tells you to run, Rynda, you should take their advice,” he said.
I should’ve been terrified, but instead I was angry. “Takes a lot of balls to terrorize two children.”
He glanced at me. “Another idiot with moral scruples. What is it today? Would you like to volunteer instead?”
“Yes.” I had only one shot at this. I pushed my magic out and gripped him in its fist.
Shock slapped Vincent’s face. He tried to move and couldn’t. His mind writhed in the grip of my will. Holy shit, he was strong.
I shook, straining to hold him, trying to claw at his mind. His will clashed with mine. It was like trying to hold a fire hose with the full blast of water jettisoning out of it. He was a Prime and his power was off the charts. It took all of my willpower to contain him. I couldn’t even move.
I had to ask questions. If I didn’t, he would overpower me. Questions would force him to conceal the truth and drain some of his power.
My voice came out deep, every sound dripping with magic. “What’s your name?”
Damn it. Should’ve asked something more useful.
His face shook with the effort of trying to break free.
The two summoned animals stared at him, confused.
My hold was slipping.
Now, Cornelius. Now. Do something. Rynda, run. Save yourself. Come on.
He bared his teeth. He let his creatures feed on people. He was going to murder Rynda’s children, who had no say in any of this. Rage erupted in me, boosting my magic. My will crushed Vincent’s.
A raw, guttural snarl tore out of him. “Vincent Harcourt.”
Pain blossomed at the base of my neck and rolled down in a heavy wave, like molten lead. My teeth rattled. The strain ground down my bones, as if someone took a cheese grater and drew it across my spine.
“What do you want from Rynda?”
The world wavered. Blackness swirled in the corners of the room, threatening to expand and swallow me. I couldn’t pass out. I had to hold on to consciousness.
Beads of sweat dotted Vincent’s hairline. A tremor shook him. His mind opened slightly, and within its depth, I sensed the solid wall of a hex. I had done something like that before, but I had created the illusion of it. This was the real thing, a trap saturated with magic.
“Her . . .”
My power brushed against the hex, and I almost recoiled. It felt familiar. It was set by a truthseeker.
“. . . mother . . .”
My grip slipped. Agony exploded in my brain, and I stumbled back from the impact.
“You fucking bitch,” Vincent snarled.
The bat-ape charged me, swiping with its hand. I jerked back, but its claws grazed my leg, painting a red-hot line of pain across my left thigh.
The massive cat-thing jumped in front of me, shockingly fast, knocking the bat-ape aside. The smaller creature flew from the impact, landing on my gun. It tried to rise, but the cat-monster pounced. A massive paw rose, claws flashed, and the cat-monster ripped the bat-ape apart with a single swipe. Thick red blood poured on the floor.
“What the fuck!” Vincent snarled.
Two bat-apes crouched by Vincent, one by his feet and the other on the table behind him. On the right, fifteen feet away, the third bat-ape sat over Edward’s body. Edward lay on his back on the blue rug. A wet wound gaped in his stomach. The third bat-ape was digging in it with its claws. Edward’s eyes were open and filled with pain.
Rynda stood behind Edward, her arms around her two children, her face a bloodless mask.
If I killed Vincent, it would cure everything that was wrong with this picture.
“Run!” I barked, and fired.
The world snapped back to its normal speed in a roar of gunfire. The bat-ape by Vincent’s feet jerked upright, throwing itself into the path of the bullet meant for the summoner. I’d missed by a tiny fraction of a second.
I pumped three bullets into the bat-ape. Its head jerked with each impact, but it still stayed upright.
Four.
Five.
Rynda didn’t move. She just stood in the same spot like a deer in headlights. Damn it.
The creature by Edward leaped over his body and charged me. I pivoted and put six bullets into its skull. It toppled over. I spun back. The first bat-ape sprawled on the floor, dead. The last bat-ape had taken its place, blocking Vincent.
Only one shot left. I put it into the bat-ape’s left lower eye, ejected the magazine, brought the other out . . .
“I wouldn’t,” Vincent said.
The feline beast snarled, a strange sound that was half pissed-off tiger and half the deep bellow of a sea lion. The fringe of bright blue tendrils, six inches long, rose in a collar around its throat, the thickened ends glowing with bright blue. His huge maw gaped open, his dagger teeth an inch from Rynda’s daughter.
“This was fun,” Vincent said. “Drop the magazine.”
I opened my hand and let it fall to the floor.
“Put the gun down.”
I crouched and lowered the weapon to the floor.
“Kick it.”
I gave the Baby Desert Eagle a nudge with my foot. The gun slid across the floor to the left side. If I threw myself down, I’d be able to grab it. If I could get close enough to Vincent, I could shock him.
The last bat-ape, Vincent’s new meat shield, crouched, revealing the summoner. Vincent was about Rogan’s age, handsome, dark brown hair, a square jaw, dark eyes, and the perfect amount of scruff on a dimpled chin—generations of all the right genes in all the right places.
If I lunged at him, the bat-ape would tear me apart.
Vincent rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I have to say this. You there, dashing male secretary! Drop the frying pan.”
The pan clattered to the floor behind me.
Vincent smiled.
That languid, assured smile told me everything I needed to know: none of us would walk out of here alive. He would kill me and Cornelius, then he would finish off Edward, Rynda, and the kids. Vincent was one of those people who derived pleasure from wielding power over others, and there was no greater power than life or death. He would toy with us, like a cat with an injured bird, then he would kill us.
“The next time someone tells you to run, Rynda, you should take their advice,” he said.
I should’ve been terrified, but instead I was angry. “Takes a lot of balls to terrorize two children.”
He glanced at me. “Another idiot with moral scruples. What is it today? Would you like to volunteer instead?”
“Yes.” I had only one shot at this. I pushed my magic out and gripped him in its fist.
Shock slapped Vincent’s face. He tried to move and couldn’t. His mind writhed in the grip of my will. Holy shit, he was strong.
I shook, straining to hold him, trying to claw at his mind. His will clashed with mine. It was like trying to hold a fire hose with the full blast of water jettisoning out of it. He was a Prime and his power was off the charts. It took all of my willpower to contain him. I couldn’t even move.
I had to ask questions. If I didn’t, he would overpower me. Questions would force him to conceal the truth and drain some of his power.
My voice came out deep, every sound dripping with magic. “What’s your name?”
Damn it. Should’ve asked something more useful.
His face shook with the effort of trying to break free.
The two summoned animals stared at him, confused.
My hold was slipping.
Now, Cornelius. Now. Do something. Rynda, run. Save yourself. Come on.
He bared his teeth. He let his creatures feed on people. He was going to murder Rynda’s children, who had no say in any of this. Rage erupted in me, boosting my magic. My will crushed Vincent’s.
A raw, guttural snarl tore out of him. “Vincent Harcourt.”
Pain blossomed at the base of my neck and rolled down in a heavy wave, like molten lead. My teeth rattled. The strain ground down my bones, as if someone took a cheese grater and drew it across my spine.
“What do you want from Rynda?”
The world wavered. Blackness swirled in the corners of the room, threatening to expand and swallow me. I couldn’t pass out. I had to hold on to consciousness.
Beads of sweat dotted Vincent’s hairline. A tremor shook him. His mind opened slightly, and within its depth, I sensed the solid wall of a hex. I had done something like that before, but I had created the illusion of it. This was the real thing, a trap saturated with magic.
“Her . . .”
My power brushed against the hex, and I almost recoiled. It felt familiar. It was set by a truthseeker.
“. . . mother . . .”
My grip slipped. Agony exploded in my brain, and I stumbled back from the impact.
“You fucking bitch,” Vincent snarled.
The bat-ape charged me, swiping with its hand. I jerked back, but its claws grazed my leg, painting a red-hot line of pain across my left thigh.
The massive cat-thing jumped in front of me, shockingly fast, knocking the bat-ape aside. The smaller creature flew from the impact, landing on my gun. It tried to rise, but the cat-monster pounced. A massive paw rose, claws flashed, and the cat-monster ripped the bat-ape apart with a single swipe. Thick red blood poured on the floor.
“What the fuck!” Vincent snarled.
