Fire Danger (19 page)

“Plan?” Phoenix asked.

Fenley pointed to a small alcove. “We have marked the places where the bombs are. The human was easy to track. He smelled…wrong…and he reeked of Demonos.”

The bomb, planted in the alcove, was easy to find once you knew where to look. Phoenix carefully pried it loose, noting there were five minutes listed on the timer, and placed it in the bag.

“How many?”

“We counted ten. We are collecting them as well.”

“Be careful,” Phoenix said.

Fenley gave him a grim nod. “We are aware of the risks, Elemental.”

Humans were around them, their minds mostly showing annoyance at the inconvenience of the blocked streets, few caring who was causing it. The caravan was getting closer. Phoenix spared some mental energy and clouded the minds of the surrounding spectators and police, making himself and Fenley completely invisible. It was going to be difficult to keep focus on all his tasks, but it was necessary to do this in order to move through the barriers.

The second bomb was on the bottom of a manhole cover, and it took Phoenix a few precious seconds to get it loose.

“Are we going to have enough time?” he asked.

He saw eyes in the shadows. Fenley had summoned reinforcements.

“We can get a few. Keep going.”

Three…four… The wolves brought him four—the human-looking teenagers who had originally taunted Rachel were Fenley’s designated helpers. He wished he could melt the bombs down as he went, but they would run out of time before he was finished. He needed all of them. Now.

The caravan continued to move, rounding another corner, coming into sight of the hotel where Rachel had shown him the assassin lying in wait. He prayed she was going to be there in time.

The car continued to move. Nine bombs, the ninth behind a pipe. Two minutes.

The tenth was on the bottom of a barrier, and Phoenix wondered how the assassin had gotten it there. A small wolf was already retrieving it.

Fenley nodded at the sack. “That’s all of them. Go, Phoenix. Go now.”

One minute. Phoenix soared into the sky, the burlap sack containing his deadly cargo dangling from his shoulder.

Finally he spotted Haures pursuing him, still a distance away.
“You will not win.”

“You are wrong.”

Phoenix shifted to his faster bird form, fire dancing along his body, and flew higher, trying to get to the cloud cover where the bombs could explode without doing harm to those on the ground.

Haures came in at an angle, the Demonos getting closer to the smaller bird Phoenix with every moment.

Twenty seconds.

Phoenix could feel the timer countdown like a second heartbeat.

Fifteen seconds.

He calculated the time and the trajectory, and decided he needed a few more seconds.

Twelve.

Haures was almost upon him, and Phoenix plunged through the clouds, using the white cover to execute a hard shift to the right.

Ten seconds.

Nine.

Haures was there. She had correctly judged his change in flight. They had known each other too long.

Eight.

Phoenix turned, made a dive, sending fire streaking behind him. Surprise shot across his mind, an indication that Haures had been taken unawares. He shifted back to human as he flew, hoping the change would startle Haures.

Six.

With Haures right on his tail, Phoenix slung the bag off his shoulder and, with a desperate heave, hurled it high, higher, watching it soar up and then start down.

Five.

Haures sent a bolt of fire toward him. It flew past him and continued on, disappearing into a cloud. Phoenix turned around and gathered fire between his hands, sending it toward his foe. She dodged it easily, pivoting to one side. The bag sailed past them, an arc slowed by wind currents.

Four.

Three.

Haures became a blur, managed to get by him, and grabbed for the bag. She snagged it through one of the pieces of the rough cloth. Phoenix’s heart plummeted, but to his surprise she released it. It fell slowly. Then she turned back to the hovering Elemental. Phoenix judged the distance between the bag containing the bombs and the ground and let out a breath. They were high enough that the detonation would do no harm to those below. There was nothing Haures could do.

Two.

“It won’t matter, Phoenix. You will not succeed.”

One.

He dove down, watching the bag, ready to try a desperate burst of flame if the bag dropped too fast. It seemed to spin as if alive. He could hear the bombs ignite and tore upwards.

Boom!

The bag exploded, burlap and pieces of plastic burning in all directions. Both Phoenix and Haures moved out of range, the shrapnel missing them by inches.

Haures hovered a few feet away, smug and stationary. It had to take a lot of energy to float there, but she showed no sign of strain.

Flames licked over his body in a halo, making the world seem red and orange.

“Silly Phoenix. The bombs were just a diversion. Oh, they would have worked, and it would have been glorious, but we knew you would find them.”

He frowned.

“My assassin is in place, and he will kill the mayor. I win.”

“You have not yet won. I defeated your bombs and my friends will stop your assassin.”

“You know what happens if you lose. If one fails they all fail. Then you will have to go to final Challenge, no matter what happens with the other Elementals. You have already lost.”

It was just bluster. “Rachel and her grandfather are going to stop your man.”

He reached out to Rachel and saw that she and her grandfather were moving up the back stairs of the targeted building. Kamal was in front of her, his wings brushing the narrow hallway. He could feel Rachel’s tension and also her stoic determination. She would do this. His love would succeed.

He was wasting time talking to Haures. Phoenix turned to go, his wings spreading as he prepared for flight.

“They will not. They will die.”

As if blinders had been removed from his eyes, Phoenix understood. It had been a ruse to get him, the stronger Elemental, away from the assassin. Kamal was strong, but not as strong as Phoenix. Without the ability to see the man’s mind, they were flying blind, unable to have any advantage except strength. He thought he understood, until Haures began to chuckle.

“You are easily tricked, my old friend. Love has made you blind. Love has made you weak.”

“You will not win,” he repeated, even as he turned and began his descent to the distant earth.

Haures fell on him from behind, dragging him backward, her hands more like claws, digging into him. A fireball emerged from her body, singeing his wing feathers.

Turning, Phoenix directed a gout of fire at her from his fingers. It missed, and she swiped at his back.

The mayor had been a target, but not the only target. Phoenix cursed himself for his blindness. All the time the other paranormals had been strange around Rachel, he thought that was because of her buried Ifrit talents. Instead, she was more a part of this than he had imagined.

“That’s right, Phoenix. You finally understand. Defeating my assassin will delay the inevitable, but it won’t stop it.”

“Rachel. Rachel is also a target.”

“You will be too late.”

With a sinking feeling, he knew Haures was right.

* * * * *

The building was dark, the back stairwell unlit. Rachel tried to sense the gunman and saw the man through the wolf’s eyes, standing in a third-floor window, regarding the crowd. Rachel saw a gun but not a rifle and decided she was seeing a memory of the man and not a current picture.

“We have to hurry.” Kamal pointed to the third-floor stairwell door. “This is locked.”

An added layer of protection. She was going to shove it open, but Kamal aimed his fingers at the lock and it exploded into flame and melted.

Her fingers itched. “Cool,” she said on a smile. “I’ve got to practice that.”

He opened the door. “Yes, you do. And much more.”

They made their way down the hallway, Rachel triangulating the location of the gunman based on wolf observation.

“Plan?”
Rachel projected to Kamal.

“We break in and attack him.”

That was straightforward. Her heart was pounding, fear dabbing her forehead and armpits with sweat. Tendrils of fire surged up her spinal column and flowed down to her hands. Rachel flexed her fingers, summoning the power.

Kamal motioned to the door. His wings were flat against his back, but he was still a large man. When this was all over, she had to learn more about the people she came from. She hoped there would be time.

“Now,”
Kamal said.

With a swift motion, Kamal kicked in the door and hurled himself through, his momentum carrying him inside. Rachel followed, quickly moving to the left.

The gunman, standing at the window with a rifle pointed down, whirled, clearly caught by surprise. The apartment was dimly lit, but Rachel found it easy to see, apparently another side benefit of her emerging Ifrit powers.

“Stay back!”

He was a slight man, perhaps five foot eight at best, but made bulky by the thick Kevlar he was wearing from head to toe. Only his head and hands were left uncovered. On the table in the room, otherwise bare of furnishing except for a single bed, were a myriad of weapons and war-making items, from handguns to grenades to the remnants of the bombs Phoenix had dispatched.

The man pointed his rifle at them, his hand completely steady on the trigger.

“It’s over.” Kamal lifted one wing to show the man he wasn’t human.

“No, it’s not.”

She could hear the caravan drawing close to the hotel. They were out of time.

“Stay back!”

Kamal moved, and the gunman fired toward Rachel. It was a shot designed to warn, not kill. Kamal froze.

“I said, stay back.”

The gunman turned back toward the caravan. He aimed again, lowering the rifle.

Kamal moved, leaping toward the man. With a quick jerk, he pulled the blocker off the man’s neck, sending it skittering across the floor. In the same motion, he knocked the rifle out of the gunman’s hands. His momentum carried him out the open window. Glass shattered, and Kamal cried out as he fell. She hoped he would be able to steady himself in time not to crash into the humans. Rachel didn’t know what that would look like—a shielded paranormal would nonetheless have bulk and momentum.

Then she was alone. With an angry gunman, armed to the teeth.

Rachel calculated the distance between herself and the tableful of guns. He still had the rifle.

“Aleric?”

He was engaged with Haures. Praying that Kamal would be back shortly, she looked at the gunman. Fire surged within her, heating her bloodstream.

“It’s over.” She gestured vaguely to the window. “The Chicago mayor is out of range.”

“She is,” the gunman agreed, and his voice had a strange, tinny quality. “I failed.” He seemed unconcerned about the failure of his assignment. “You, however, are not out of range.”

He cocked back the barrel. She heard Kamal pounding up the stairs again, heard Phoenix in the distance and even Griffin, engaged in his own battle, as clearly as her own thoughts. She wondered why Kamal didn’t fly up instead of using the stairs.

“You. Will. Die.”

On the last word, the gunman pulled the trigger once, even as Rachel dove to one side. The next bullet missed as well, sailing over her head as she continued to fall. The gunshots were loud, deafening.

No more fear, she thought. No more running.

Rachel rose. A look of surprise crossed the gunman’s face. Flames licked across her body, and she let them come, allowing him to see. His eyes widened in terror but he raised the gun again. She only had seconds. Concentrating, Rachel dug for the power she had felt in Kamal when he melted the lock. Finding it, she directed the power at the gunman, and to her great satisfaction the gun melted, the barrel twisting toward the floor like taffy. The gunman gave a cry of dismay and cast the gun aside as if it burned him.

She had done it.

Even as she moved to throw fire at the gunman, an Ifrit plunged through the shattered window. At first she thought it was Kamal, but that couldn’t be. She still felt him coming nearer.

The assassin took in the unfamiliar being and shot her a stare. “I win. House always wins.” He grabbed a knife from the table, shoved it in his jeans belt and ran toward the door.

The being in front of her wasn’t her grandfather. Kamal was near and getting closer, but his mind signature spoke of pain searing along his left wing. He had folded it along his side. She would have to trust him to stop the assassin.

Rachel faced the unfamiliar Ifrit. With a sickening thud in her belly, Rachel knew who it had to be.
“Get the man,”
Rachel said to Kamal
.

She had a mental image of Kamal cornering the assassin on the stairwell, advancing toward him. The man looked left and right, a desperate expression on his face as her grandfather flapped his good wing, one hooked top scoring the man’s shoulder. His eyes widened and he feinted as it to duck past Kamal, but Kamal flipped that same wing into the man’s face, and he staggered.

“I am Farouk,” the other Ifrit said to Rachel.

“I know,” she said. At the same time she said it, Kamal roared and charged toward the door. Distantly she heard Phoenix as well, high up in the clouds.

Hampered by his injured wing, Kamal was not in time to dodge the man’s direct attack when he yelled and came at her grandfather. He lunged at Kamal and jabbed at him with the knife. Pain seared down their mental connection as his weapon pierced Kamal’s wing.

The Ifrit standing before her was as big as Kamal, with wings that spread across the window openings, blocking out the sun. There was no mercy in his eyes. This was the being who had killed her parents.

Rachel examined her options. The table full of weapons beckoned tantalizingly beyond the Ifrit. She feinted, trying to dive under his legs and grab something, anything. The Ifrit—Farouk—grabbed her arms, cuffing them behind her. Rachel kicked and clawed, but she was no match for the stronger being. He took the blocker from the floor and secured it around her neck.