The Burn (20 page)

Pete sighed. "Human's good enough for me."

They looked at each other.

Julie startled as a blast of wind hit the windshield, pelting a thick wave of dust over the RV. "He wants me dead. I can feel it, like this horrible coldness I can't get rid of. He'll kill me himself if he can."

Miranda glanced at Pete. "You should get her out of here."

Pete looked up, squinting with emotion he couldn't hide at the sight of her. The cigarette still dangled from his lips. "I'm a little lost here, kiddo. You want me to do what?"

"Get her to Reno. I—" She paused mid-sentence, catching sight of a shadow moving beyond the windshield. It approached through the storm, its outline obscured by streams of sand and moonlight.

Miranda took a step back, recognizing the muscular line of its shoulders, the terrifying definition in its golden mask.

"The Khagan," she breathed.

Reaching down, she grabbed onto Pete and pulled him from the seat. He stumbled up against her and she pushed him toward the back of the RV.

"Away from the windows!" she shouted.

The monster raised his sword and charged at the glass, slashing the long blade in front of him. The windshield shattered, sending a wave of shining pellets pouring over the dashboard, dust billowing in from the storm.

Miranda ducked, wincing through the acidic haze.

The Khagan leapt up into the destroyed window frame, his large outline blocking the moonlight, his helmet cast in shadow.

Julie screamed.

Pete took aim with the Glock and fired twice. The shots clapped in the small space, the muzzle flash bright and instant in the darkness.

The Khagan crouched before them, unaffected. He turned his head, the black eye-slits of his helmet focusing on Seth.

Miranda clenched her teeth. "The hell you will."

Charging forward, she ducked the sword and shoved into him with all her weight. He lost his balance on the dashboard and reeled backward, falling through the window frame and dragging her with him.

They tumbled out onto the playa together, the wind and sand tearing between them. She pushed to her feet, glancing back as Seth leapt onto the dashboard after her.

"No!" she yelled at him. "Stay where you are!"

The Khagan rose before her, sword drawn. "You cannot protect him now. This is his destiny."

"I won't let you kill him," she yelled back, retreating back toward the wreckage of Seth's metal sculpture.

"His human death is of no importance. He belongs to the Gate."

"As what? A servant to the murdering psychopath you call your master?" She grimaced against the sting of wind. "I can't let that happen."

"What makes you think you can stop it? You have been recreated in this world for one purpose, just as I have."

"We have a choice," Miranda hissed, pausing as her foot bumped against a discarded pile of cut steel pipe by the sculpture.

"Goddess," he warned. "I was merciful last time."

Miranda nodded, dropping down to grasp onto a sharp segment of pipe with both hands. She rose and swung it at him. He reacted quickly, slipping back into the wind, the blade of his sword deflecting the blow with ease.

He scraped his sword blade from the pipe. Flipping the hilt in his hands, he circled the edge to counter attack. Miranda saw only a flash of metal. Her focus snapped to the thin edge of his sword as it sliced through the air. She reacted, catching the blade repeatedly as he attacked. The blows knocked her backward, his sword clanging against the length of pipe.

She stumbled, watching him flip the sword in his hands again, his movements as graceful as they were lethal. He was faster, stronger.

He swiped at her, then lunged, his weapon singing through the wind. She ducked. His sword sliced though the pipe, halving it in two. Miranda smashed one of the segments against the side of his helmet and kicked him in the chest.

His head whipped back. He staggered.

Miranda kicked him again.

He took the hit and pivoted close, backhanding her with blinding force. Blood spilled from her nose, its thick taste blooming in her mouth. Her eyes watered with the pain, blurring his image as he raised the sword.

"Miranda!" Seth yelled from the RV.

She charged forward, ducking under the warrior's sword to ram her shoulder into the hard leather of his armor. He twisted and threw her off. She landed on her feet and leapt onto him again, this time grabbing onto the dagger on his belt.

It slid loose in her grasp and she jammed the blade under his armor. He made a rasping noise. Blood poured over her hand. She looked up, feeling a dark snap of energy flow between them, thick and terrifying.

He grabbed onto the fabric of her dress and lifted her against him. She clenched her teeth, swinging at him, her fists landing helplessly on hard muscle and cold armor.

Seth materialized from the storm at his back.

The Khagan turned, flipping his sword and cutting at Seth, who leapt just out of reach, his eyes never leaving Miranda. "Let her go!"

The Khagan kicked Seth in the stomach and flung Miranda into the stinging wind between them, whispering a harsh prayer at her back.

Her strength dissipated.

She stumbled forward, then looked down, watching as long cuts appeared on her wrists, opening to a thick flow of blood. She felt the warm trickle of it on her neck, the sensation of her life draining away.
The spell.

Miranda collapsed and Seth caught her, shock making his expression harsh. She blinked, unable to speak as he dragged her back through the wind.

The Khagan appeared above them with his sword drawn.

The RV rumbled to life, its engine growling into the storm. The glow of headlights lit up the sand then turned blinding as Pete flipped on the brights.

The Khagan paused, a phantom caught in the glare.

Pete began to honk the horn, its incessant alarm drawing attention. Faces appeared at the edge of the glow. Onlookers stopped along the road, their faces dark with concern. The Khagan tore his gaze from Miranda, scanning the gathering crowd. He regarded them coldly for a moment, assessing the risk of interference, then stepped back.

Looking down at her, he shook his head, blood still leaking from under his armor. A gust of sand swept up at his back and he lowered his sword, disappearing into its harsh swirl.

"Stay with me, Miranda," Seth insisted, his voice strained. He pulled her tighter against him, his arms crushing her to his chest. "Stay with me."

S
eth felt her lose strength. Her body went slack in his arms. Her head fell back on her shoulders. Her lashes fluttered, the pale green of her eyes growing dull beneath them. She parted her lips, as if to whisper, but spoke only empty breath.

He clenched his teeth, knowing that she was still close. He could still reach her, hold her in his world. There was something of her that still existed…

Pete appeared from the glow of headlights. He cursed, kneeling down beside Miranda. "Jesus," he muttered, reaching out to touch the red waves of her hair.

Blood still flowed from her, staining Seth's clothes, his skin and the brace wrapped around his wrist.

"She's gone, Seth," Pete said, his voice broken.

"No."

"She's dead."

Seth clenched his teeth. "She can't die. I need to take her back."

"Back where?"

Seth ignored him, lifting Miranda in his arms as he rose to his feet. He glanced in the direction of the Gate, feeling sluggish and unfocused. The sight of her blood, her lifeless body, sent his heart reeling. The pain was difficult to accept, impossible to think through.

"Back
where
, Seth?" Pete repeated.

"Take Julie out of here. Get her to Reno. Go as far as you can."

"What about you?"

"You can't help me."

"Did you not just see what I did? I helped out a lot there, I think."

"You can't help me where I'm going."

Pete watched him for a moment. "You can't be serious."

"I know where she is. I saw her symbol in that chamber."

"Her what? That makes no sense."

Seth closed his eyes, lacking the will to argue.

"She's dead, Seth, one way or the other, right?" Pete asked. "There is no happy ending. Come on, you have to let her go. Let this go. You can't win against these people, these… whatever they are. You can't go back to the Gate."

"I can. I have to."

"Miranda is dead!" Pete shouted at him. "You think I want to believe it either? You think I want to believe any of this? We don't have a choice."

"
You
don't have a choice."

"Seth—"

"You're human."

Pete hesitated, narrowing his gaze.

"Get Julie out of here now," Seth insisted. "Don't send anyone after me. Don't send anyone into the Gate. You'll only get them killed. Do you understand?"

Pete watched him, speechless.

"Do you understand?" Seth repeated slowly.

Pete nodded, glowering at him through the dust.

Seth turned into the wind, the sand razing through his clothes as he carried Miranda in the direction of the Gate.

* * *

Seth walked through a dark world, a post-apocalyptic vision of neon and parched earth, the torturous wind ripping across the desert before him. The revelers had disappeared from the roads and open spaces, taking refuge from the storm in thumping party tents, their flapping canvas entrances sparkling with light.

He carried Miranda against the wind, ignoring the pain in his ribs and dull ache in his heart, hoping that answers he was about to find would be the ones he wanted. The towering entrance of the Rathvam camp appeared from the churn of dust ahead. The Divine Gate tent rose in the background, so large it seemed to block out the sky, the voices of a thousand souls trapped inside it.

Seth paused at the border of the camp, glancing over its dusty perimeter. The arena was empty, with no bright lights or barrel fires lit. There were no dancers, no DJs, just empty scaffolding and tents shuddering in the wind. Grimacing through the haze, he found the stairs and climbed them with effort.

Two hooded figures stood guard at the entrance to the Gate. They hesitated as he approached, exchanging weighted looks.

Seth didn't stop.

The guards stood aside, saying nothing as he walked into the quiet hum of the metal hallway.

He was expected.

Soft whispers followed him down the corridor, the glow of lantern light casting shadows along the shining grate ahead. One chamber had been left open, its golden light beckoning him to return, to bring Miranda back.

He carried her through the door, ignoring the bright luster of the walls and their glittering symbols, gently lowering her onto the surface of the altar. She lay lifelessly beneath him, her red hair spread across the gold, the white slip of her neck stained with blood.

He took a step back, dropping his gaze to the elegantly crafted altar underneath her. The truth whispered in soft songs from the walls as he stared at it, the symbols making a real and terrifying sense to him now. He placed his hand along the altar markings. The world seemed to slow to a stop around him, the sound of his breath echoing in a timeless void.

The symbols warmed under his touch, their shapes curling and circling under his fingertips. The feeling was electric. His breath quickened, a soft energy spreading its way through his veins, singing along his nerves.

He heard his name whispered from the walls.

"I need to find her," he told them softly, listening as the symbols replied, guiding his hand downward under the extended surface of the altar.

Seth ran his fingers along the underside of the altar slab, finding a curling metal latch. He pulled the latch and felt the altar release, its surface sliding back on finely crafted rails. The shadowed interior of the altar appeared beneath him, its fragile occupant exposed to the light.

He grimaced, leaning down over her. She was slender, her body wrapped tightly in fine linen and laid carefully on its back, as if she were an Egyptian queen sleeping out eternity.

Releasing a harsh breath through his teeth, Seth forced himself to reach down, his fingers prying loose the shroud covering her face. It tore easily, ripping away from its silent host, revealing a distorted, sunken expression and a bright swatch of red hair.

His fingers stilled.

He glanced at the version of Miranda lying on the altar's surface, her face serene and beautiful.

This was the Rathvam goddess.

Looking down at the shrouded figure hidden in the altar, he clenched his teeth, his heart sinking in his chest.

This was the real Miranda.

Seth dropped to his knees along the metal floor, destroyed by the sight of her. He buried his face in his hands, his fingers shaking.

The memory of the woman, her hungered touch and breathless words, merged with the image of the corpse in its golden crypt, its body cold for months, its sunken skin bearing the marks of murder.

He made a harsh, rasping sound, tears of anger turning the room into a hot blur before him. The smell of Miranda's blood coated his hands, weakening him, nauseating him.

"So now you understand," the Necromancer spoke from inside the chamber. "How pointless this struggle is between us."

Seth looked up to see him standing there, his pale eyes lit with amusement, his white hair glowing in the lantern light. There had been no warning, no sound of him entering the room.

He had simply appeared.

"Your strength can hold her here," the Necromancer continued, "because you are her protector, the only one with the power to keep her whole, especially in this frail human form. But there are limits, even for you."

He stepped forward, his gaze dropping to the image of Miranda on the altar. "You can wake her from sleep and restore her soul, but you can do nothing for her body. It lies here, under my control, and it ties her spirit not only to its delicate human form, but also to its human death, its human weakness."

Seth glared at him. "That's the prayer you use to shut her down. You bring her back to the point of her own death, because her body is still here, imprisoned with her name marked directly above it. The pain you inflicted is always with her."