Fracture (The Machinists) (33 page)

“Liam?” Andrew prompted.

They want an answer
. “I’m open to suggestions,” Liam said quietly to Andrew.

“I thought you had a plan?” Andrew asked loudly enough for his voice to carry to the group. A few turned to look at them.

“My plan,” Liam said in a forceful whisper, “is to keep you safe, and I’m trying to decide the best way to do that. We don’t have a lot of options, and I was hoping you could think of something I couldn’t.”

He couldn’t, so Liam sent them back to the homestead. There was some grumbling about how they had just left there, but Liam did his best to ignore it. “Wait until midday tomorrow. If nobody arrives… do what you think is best.”

Andrew nodded.

The plan wasn’t very good, and Liam was sure that given enough time, he could think of something better, but time was another thing he didn’t have.

The group filed down the trail and deeper into the forest. Liam gave them what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’ll see you soon.” Watching them disappear, Liam was left with a new worry.

What now?

Allyn’s lungs were on fire. Each breath was agonizing as the thick smoke burned him from the inside. He coughed. It made the pain worse. In the middle of a coughing fit, he instinctually took a deep breath, which only made him cough more. It was a vicious cycle.

Holding on to the wall for guidance and stability, Allyn stumbled down the hall. He was moving too slowly, and the flames were spreading too quickly, already racing ahead of him. Bodies littered the floor. Too many to only belong to the enemy. Allyn stepped on something—a hand. He bent down to help the person up, but the arm was limp. Whoever it was wouldn’t get up ever again. The body would burn to ashes with the manor, buried under its rubble.

Someone pushed him. Allyn was only faintly aware of the others jostling around him, trying to escape the inferno, each too absorbed in his or her own misery and will to survive to worry about others.

Allyn slipped and fell in something wet. Nobody stopped to pick him up. They ran over his back, trampling him, pinning him to the floor. The force drove the air from his lungs. He took a slow, timid breath, expecting the pain, but he was welcomed with cool air. In disbelief, he drew in another. He wasn’t hallucinating. The air was still tinged with the taste of smoke, but it was faint. He started to stand, then stopped.

Stay low!
Old training seeped into his consciousness.
Smoke rises. Stay low to the ground
.

Allyn crawled forward. It was a slow process that forced him face to face with the dead. Instead of faceless souls, they had names. Vincent. Griffin. Ari. More he didn’t know. Too many that he did. It was the last time anyone would ever see them. Allyn etched their resting faces into his memory.

Crash!
A support beam fell behind him. The house was collapsing. Allyn pushed forward harder, hand over hand, slipping, sliding, and clawing, but always moving forward. Even low to the ground, the oxygen was quickly replaced by smoke.

I’m not going to make it.

Another beam crashed to the floor.

That was close.

Staying as low as possible, Allyn rose to his feet and rushed forward.
There!
He entered the sitting room. His team had entered on the second floor directly above this room. The far wall was nothing but glass—french doors sandwiched between floor-to-ceiling windows. The doors had been thrown open and the windows shattered, likely from frantic magi doing what they could to escape. They were outside, maybe fifteen paces from the manor, most on their hands and knees, coughing and crying, but alive. Others stood over them, helping.

No. Not helping. What are they doing?

Lukas stood over a man on his knees. The others held him down. They were taking prisoners.

Allyn ducked behind a velvet armchair. The fire roared around him, drowning out the voices outside. Allyn caught only a few words, and none of them made sense. There was another, closer crash. Burning embers billowed into the sitting room. If he ran outside, Lukas would have him and maybe kill him. Allyn didn’t know what Lukas wanted with him anymore. He was stuck between certain death and a probable one.

“It’s over,” Lukas said to the kneeling man.

Graeme!

He screamed. The primal sound was agonizing. His body lurched forward, head thrown back, face toward the sky. The magi at his sides struggled to hold him down. They turned their heads. Whatever Lukas was doing to Graeme, they didn’t want to watch. The captives around Graeme fought to break free, but Lukas outnumbered them more than two to one. More of Graeme’s screams cut through the air.

What is Lukas doing to him?

Graeme coughed, gurgled and then spat. A light formed in the middle of his back, dim at first, then brighter as it burned through his compression armor. A white-hot fireball the size of a sand dollar passed through Graeme. He slumped forward then hung motionless in the grip of the guards. The magi holding Graeme let go, stepping aside. One threw up as Graeme fell face first into the ground as the hole in his back still smoldered.

He killed him!
He just killed Graeme!

Satisfied, Lukas stepped over Graeme, toward someone with chin-length black hair. Leira was on her knees, fighting the hands that held her in place, trying to get to her father. Lukas knelt in front of her and stroked her chin, almost consolingly. He whispered something in her ear then turned to the man at her side.

Jaxon fought the four magi who gripped him. His muscles were clenched and straining. Even outnumbered, Jaxon nearly broke free. A concussion of air shook the air, sending two magi to the ground. He was on his feet in an instant, turning to attack his remaining two captors, when another concussion ripped the air.

Jaxon was on his back, dazed.

“On your knees,” Lukas commanded.

Lukas’s magi swarmed Jaxon, pulling him up, then shoved him to his knees. Jaxon continued to fight, pushing them away, trying to pull free, but it was futile. Lukas meant to kill Jaxon the same way he had Graeme. Something stirred inside Allyn—something he could use.

Anger.

Flames at his back, Allyn raced for the open doors, wielding the electricity. He jumped out of the manor, hit the ground, rolled, and threw a static charge at Lukas.

Lukas looked up in surprise and took the static charge in the shoulder. The force threw him away from Jaxon. Allyn turned, shooting two more static charges at Jaxon’s captors. The magi holding Jaxon’s left arm took the charge in the face. His eyes rolled back as he crumpled to the ground. Allyn hadn’t intended to kill the man. The charges were powerful enough only to stun, not kill.

But maybe since it hit him in the head…

Jaxon ripped free, driving air-aided fists into the magi around him. Bones cracked, jaws unhinged, and magi fell. Leira threw her head back, driving her head into the nose of the magi behind her. Then she spun, taking the other man’s face in her hands. He fell unconscious almost instantly. One by one, the remaining members of the McCollum Family fought back, each fighting for their lives, their Family, and their grand mage.

Allyn found Lukas across the battlefield, shedding his coat and patting out the flames at his shoulder. Allyn felt as if only he and Lukas existed. Graeme was dead. Jaxon and the rest were battling Lukas’s magi. Lukas seemed to realize this, too. His eyes locked onto Allyn, his dark expression unnerving him. Allyn had no idea how he could kill Lukas when Graeme and Jaxon had failed.

The flames at Allyn’s back gave him a good view of the battlefield. The McCollum magi were outnumbered, though the odds grew in their favor. Jaxon was fearless, like a berserker. He rushed a group of magi, sliding under a fireball, then spun around another and launched a concussion of air toward the group before driving two ice blasts into the dazed magi. With fists encased in air, he quickly dropped two more and charged another squad.

Nyla and Leira worked together. Quick and nimble, they danced around attacks, sweeping close to their attackers, then drawing on their fatigue to subdue them into unconsciousness.

Allyn found Lukas stalking around the edge of the battle toward him. Lukas threw three fireballs in quick succession. The first missed, Allyn dodged the second, and the third took one of Lukas’s magi in the chest. He hit the ground, eyes glazed, never knowing the man he followed had been the one to kill him.

That will be me
, Allyn thought. Lukas always wielded fire, and Allyn couldn’t counter it. Careful not to hit one of his own, Allyn sent a static charge through a rift in the battle. The strange red electric charge sailed past Lukas and into the trees behind him. He was so far away. Lukas could dodge anything he threw at him. But he was reluctant to get much closer. Lukas was too fast, his attacks too quick for Allyn to dodge them up close.

He sent another static charge at Lukas then sent a second where he expected Lukas to be. Unlike fire, the charge’s intensity didn’t dissipate with distance. It continued to glow, twisting around itself with thin red threads that danced like lightning during a summer storm. The first missed wide, which Allyn had expected, but the second came surprisingly close. Lukas rolled at the last instant, and the charge streaked over the back of his head.

Allyn swelled with confidence.

Lukas stood, a fireball in his hands swelling to the size of a beach ball. He launched it over the battle toward Allyn. When it began its descent, it exploded, raining fire.

Allyn dove aside, curling up and protecting his head. Around him, fire was snuffed out by the moist earth. A few flames landed on him, burning his compression armor and blistering his skin. Anxiety replaced his confidence. Despite the distance between them, Lukas still had the advantage.
How do you kill someone stronger and faster than you?
Allyn was afraid to wield something more powerful. He felt it raging inside him, ready to be unleashed, but he didn’t understand its consequences. And Jaxon said magic had consequences. Magic had its limits. No one knew what Allyn’s limits were.

Lukas drew closer. Fire danced in his eyes. Lukas loved fire. He would have been the type of kid who burned his parents’ house down while playing with matches. Allyn almost wondered if Lukas could wield anything else. Was he like Allyn and limited to only one element? Allyn suspected Lukas simply had his attack of choice—just like Jaxon preferred his air-aided punches. But air was replenishable. Fire wasn’t.

That’s it!
If Allyn could force Lukas into wielding too much of a single element, Lukas would kill himself.
How do you kill someone stronger and faster than you? You outthink them. Create a new game. Change the rules.

Lukas was only a few feet in front of him and continuing to draw ever closer. Allyn couldn’t retreat. The warmth on his back told him he was as close to the burning manor as he wanted to get, so he circled Lukas. For every step Lukas took toward him, he took two to the side, working his way around until Lukas’s back was at the manor.

Flames threatened to spread from the manor across the grassy field around it, but the wet ground contained the burning embers. Plants in large pots and small raised garden beds surrounding the exterior of the manor wilted under the heat.

A weak-yellow wall of fire six feet tall and nearly twice as wide grew in front of Lukas. It probably wasn’t hot enough to kill Allyn, but he didn’t want to find out. He didn’t wait for it to finish forming. He threw a barrage of static charges through the firewall, aiming for where he thought Lukas was. Two. Three. Four. They shot through the fire like rocks through a waterfall.

Lukas grunted, and the firewall winked out. One of Allyn’s static charges had hit its mark. Lukas toppled over a planter box, falling dangerously close to the flames that spilled out of the shattered manor windows. Allyn rushed forward. Lukas was on his hands and knees, dazed, hidden behind dark smoke that billowed out of the manor. Allyn shot more charges at him. They hit him in the side, rolling him onto his back and closer to the manor.

With Lukas partially hidden behind the planter box, Allyn’s charges hit the ground around him, shattered potted plants, and disappeared into the manor. Lukas threw his arm toward Allyn.

Staring into the light of the fire, Allyn barely saw the ice blast flying toward his head. Instinctively, he
reached
for it. A coil of electricity stretched from his hand like a whip, snaring the ice out of the air. It burst into a shower of sparks. Lukas got to his feet, preparing to retreat.

No
, Allyn thought.
Keep him engaged.
Allyn launched a charge in front of Lukas.

He planted his heels, sliding to a stop as the charge passed in front of him. He turned to Allyn with hatred in his eyes. Graeme had been a grand mage, and Jaxon was on his way to becoming one, but it was Allyn, a silent man who until only a few weeks ago had believed magic didn’t exist, who had bested him. He’d nearly killed the man who’d orchestrated the attack at his condo, masterminded his sister’s kidnapping, and destroyed the McCollum Manor. Lukas seemed infuriated to be beaten by his own creation.

Lukas attacked with a volley of fireballs. Burning white hot, they took longer to form but shot through the air faster than normal fireballs.

Allyn went to the ground to avoid the first. The rest missed high or wide, and one even hit the ground only a few feet in front of Lukas. Lukas unleashed another volley of fireballs. They still burned white, but a tinge of blue developed
inside
. The first burst halfway between them, the second closer to Allyn, and the third close enough to throw him onto his back.

This was a bad idea
. He didn’t know how much fire Lukas could wield before he snuffed himself out. And Allyn was forced to fight a defensive battle, which he was losing. One fireball could end him for good. He needed help.

Allyn caught a glimpse of Jaxon. He’d formed the remnants of their squads together into a cohesive unit that was maybe fifteen strong, matching Lukas’s numbers. They fought a more organized battle, but as with most battles, once positions were secured and trenches dug, the battle slowed. While the McCollum Family had done an excellent job of using the early chaos to their advantage, the battle was still long from over. He was on his own.