Burn (Elemental Series Book 4)

by Rose Wulf

  Squeezing her eyes shut and turning away, Angela silently prayed she hadn’t condemned all three of them to death. But she did as she was told and started down the hall, keeping a handful of feet ahead of Eric and trying not to think about him dragging Arianna carelessly around like a ragdoll. She navigated the turns in the loosely defined hall until they’d crossed most of the house and she turned through the tall archway, into the den. Her feet came to an abrupt stop, eyes widening, when she realized she hadn’t considered an important factor.

  Eric had called her over, via blackmail, demanding she heal his brother, Jacob, as recompense for the damage her own brother had done to him. He’d known her well enough to know she would never risk her best friend’s life, and of course she’d agreed. So she was sort of prepared to see Jacob sprawled out on the oversized sofa, covered in hideous, blistering burns. His family had at least dressed him in fresh sweatpants, but that was all he wore, and nearly everything Angela could see was badly burned. The sight was disgusting, and a part of her was revolted to see the damage her own brother had done to someone else. At least until she remembered all the damage Jacob and his family had done to hers.

  What caught her off-guard, however, was the older man in the wheelchair a mere handful of feet away. Victor Matthews. A man she’d only ever seen from a distance, once. He looked even crazier up close.

  “Move, idiot,” Eric grunted from behind her.

  Startled, Angela reflexively moved out of his way, bringing herself closer to the sofa and its sole occupant.

  “What’s this?” Victor asked, eyeing Arianna suspiciously. “That’s not the girl we brought over.”

  “Brought over?” Angela repeated incredulously. “It’s called kidnapping! But I guess we already knew you aren’t opposed to breaking the law.”

  Victor narrowed dark, dangerous eyes at her and the ambient electricity in the room rose, raising the hairs on her arms along with it. “Did we give you permission to speak, whore?”

  Angela reeled back, stupidly thrown off by his choice of insult. She even opened her mouth to snap back at him on principal before reason caught up to her. Nothing good will come of arguing with the guy who can kill you with a look. So she pulled in a breath, holding his glare, and stated, “I’ll work better, and faster, if you give me a little more breathable air. I realize you don’t trust me, and god knows I don’t trust either of you, but if you want Jacob to live, you need me at full power.” With his burns, she wasn’t entirely sure she could bring him back to full strength. Not when her heart wasn’t in it. But they didn’t need to know that.

  The electricity in the air ebbed, slowly, and Eric proceeded to deposit Arianna in an antique chair that he’d always professed to hate. He didn’t take care to straighten her. He just let her fall and turned his back on her. “It’s your turn, Angela,” Eric pointed out threateningly. “If you want to live through this—if you want them living through this—you’ll heal him.”

  ****

  Dean was sprawled out on the community couch in the firehouse, wishing the clock would move faster so he could go home, when his phone offered an alternative to his boredom. He tugged it from his pocket and had a moment of concern when he registered his mother’s cell number beneath her picture. Trying to tell himself it was actually possible for his mother to call him when there wasn’t an emergency, he put the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry,” Lillian began, traces of guilt but no actual worry in her voice, “I think your sister has her volume turned down again. She’s not answering. Would you tell her not to worry about stopping by the store on her way home? Your father just put it in the wrong cupboard.”

  Thoroughly confused, Dean straightened and leaned forward, frowning at the floor as he said, “Mom, I think you called the wrong son. I’m at work, and I haven’t seen Ange in … almost a week.”

  This time Lillian hesitated, the concern edging back into her voice when finally she spoke. “Angela was supposed to have gone to your apartment a short while ago. She wanted to talk to you.”

  Really? That was news to him. But he bit the attitude back and offered, “Ari’s there, maybe they’re talking or something. I’ll give her a call.”

  He could practically see the relief loosening her posture at the whispered sound of her exhale. Everyone was paranoid these days. “Ah, all right. If you don’t mind.” She paused again, and her tone was a little less familiar when she cautiously asked, “So, is Arianna staying with you?”

  Cringing, Dean leaned back again and pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead. He hadn’t exactly explained that she would be staying with him for a while. It wasn’t something he knew how to bring up to his family. He knew exactly where their minds would go and, frankly, he didn’t want to have that conversation. Looks like I don’t have a choice now. “Yeah,” he replied aloud, “for now, at least.”

  “I see,” Lillian murmured thoughtfully. She was silent for several more seconds, but he recognized this silence. She wasn’t actually done speaking yet. On cue, she asked, “I take it, then, your relationship is more serious than you’ve been letting on?”

  The sigh slipped free before he could stop it, but he kept the exasperation from his voice when he spoke. “I guess,” he allowed carefully. He wasn’t in any way ready to explain to his mother—or anyone—just how serious he was starting to think it was. “Look, I’m kind of at work, so I should make that call while I have the time.” He was sure it was a translucent tactic. His mother would see right through the excuse. But it was also the complete truth, which was why it would work. I hope.

  It was Lillian’s turn to sigh as she said, “Yes, of course. And Angela really was going to talk to you, so maybe you should make arrangements around your work schedule. Be safe.” She disconnected as soon as he assured her he would do what she’d suggested.

  Dean hesitated, phone in his lap, as he tried to figure out how to articulate what he would need to say to keep Angela from slamming the door on him again. Granted, at least at first, he’d be talking to Ari, but he still needed an idea of his words. Dinner. Everyone talks over dinner, right? It seemed like a decent plan, so he pulled Arianna’s number up and put the phone back to his ear. Angela did have a habit of lowering her volume in another person’s company, but hopefully Ari didn’t.

  The line rang several times before it went to voicemail, and a flicker of warning flared in the back of Dean’s mind. He left a short message, just in case, and disconnected as he pushed to his feet. For once in his life, he wanted Angela to be right. He wanted to just be too damned paranoid for his own good. But something insisted this wasn’t just a coincidence. I can’t risk it.

  “Uh, Dean?” Amelia called, confusion heavy in her voice, as he passed the front desk.

  “Sorry,” he replied, barely turning his head over his shoulder and neglecting to break stride. “Something’s wrong at home. I have to check it out.” He didn’t wait for a response, because there wasn’t anything Amelia or Chief Bradford could say that would stop him. If they took issue with his behavior, they’d have to get in line.

  He cranked up the volume on the radio in the car as he swung into traffic, trying to at least partially distract himself from the thoughts running through his head. But the angry rock songs only served to ramp up his temper and did nothing at all for the increasingly terrifying scenarios he was dreaming up. When he was halfway to his apartment, he shut off the radio and switched to the phone controls.

  Logan answered on the first ring. “Hey,” he greeted casually.

  Forcing his voice to reveal as little as possible, Dean asked, “Have you seen or talked to Ange in the last hour?” He didn’t actually know how long it had been since Angela had left the house, but if Logan answered in the positive he would feel a lot better. Or a little better, at least.

  “No,” Logan replied instead, his tone hesitant now. “Why? Is something going on?”

  “Apparently she was headed to my place to talk to me today,�
� Dean explained as he swung onto his street. “I was at work, so I had no idea, but Ari was home so I called her when Mom said she couldn’t reach Ange. Ari’s not answering, either, and something doesn’t feel right.”

  “I’ll call around, see if someone else has seen her,” Logan said. “Keep in touch.” He hung up as Dean jabbed the disconnect button on the screen.

  Arianna’s car was still where it had been when he’d left, in his own designated covered space. There was no sign of Angela’s Mercedes in the parking lot or along the side of the street. Dean threw the Camaro into park behind Ari’s Mustang, not bothering to kill the engine, and barely remembered to grab his phone again as he launched from the car. He crossed the short stretch of sidewalk in a few long strides and found that the door was locked. So she left on purpose? Somehow that didn’t make him feel better.

  “Ari?” Dean called as he let himself into the apartment. The light in the kitchen was on, which was unusual for her, but the apartment was still—empty still. Then he saw the pizza box on the coffee table. The lid wasn’t properly tucked in, though it wasn’t up, and there were two plates and two cans of soda on the table next to the pizza. The plates looked clean, the sodas weren’t open, and a closer inspection confirmed his suspicion—the pizza was untouched. He looked away from the pizza and spotted Arianna’s purse, resting on the nearest kitchen counter. Exactly where he remembered seeing it that morning. Fear forming a tangible, heavy weight in his stomach, Dean crossed the living room until he could reach the purse.

  Her keys and wallet were both still inside. Her phone was not. If she doesn’t have her keys, she couldn’t lock up. Which meant chances were Angela had been there after all. Angela had a spare key, so she could have locked the door.

  Tossing the purse back onto the counter, Dean cursed and yanked his phone from his pocket. He dialed Ari again, silently crossing his fingers, but didn’t bother leaving a message when it switched to voicemail. Then he tried Angela, and he didn’t bother leaving a message there, either.

  “Fuck!” he cursed as he turned back to the abandoned living room. It was clear to him they hadn’t been intending to leave, yet they obviously had, and they’d most likely both taken Angela’s car. There wasn’t a sign of a struggle. Not even a single scratch or scorch mark. So they went willingly? They let the bastard in? It didn’t make sense. He was clearly missing something.

  The phone started ringing, jerking him out of his thought process at the same time as providing the most obvious answer. A phone call. One of them must have gotten a phone call, and he would bet his inheritance the call had gone to Angela.

  “Anything?” he asked into the phone, cutting straight to the chase, as he strode for the door. He was going to have to pull some strings, but it was entirely worth it if it got him to Angela and Arianna before they were hurt.

  “No,” Logan replied. “Blake’s at work, but Brooke and Madison are going to drive around and look for them. Nate was already pulling back to the dock, too, so he should be out looking in the next few minutes.” He paused and pulled in a breath before asking, “What about you?”

  “Something’s definitely wrong,” Dean confirmed. “They left their pizza untouched on the table. Ari’s car’s still here, so I’m guessing they went in Angie’s. I’ve got a lead to run down. I’ll call you back.” He hung up, tossed the phone into the car, and ducked in after it. If this lead didn’t work he would have almost no chance of finding them.

  He crossed his fingers as he drove through town. He’d never had to throw his weight around the way he was about to, but he couldn’t fail.

  “I don’t know, Dean,” Nick Bradford hedged as he shifted his weight a few minutes later. “You know I’m not really supposed to use my resources like that.” Nick was the deputy of their local police department. He was also Chief Bradford’s younger cousin and a fairly good friend of Christopher Hawke’s. It was that combination of connections Dean was hoping would get him around the red tape.

  Doing his best to remember patience, Dean pushed, “Please, Nick, it’s important. She’s not answering her phone, and she’s been … arguing with her ex-boyfriend a lot lately.”

  Sympathy gleamed in Nick’s faded brown eyes and he sighed. “I’m sure the situation with—uh, Eric, was it?—is uncomfortable, but I don’t see how that warrants tracking her GPS.”

  “I know,” Dean lied, scratching the back of his neck as he mulled over how to make his point without revealing too much. “It’s just … after Clare’s abduction, we’re all a little edgier, you know? I mean, if Clarabelle’s on someone’s list, we’re all kind of screwed.”

  Nick sighed again, glanced around, and finally waved Dean into his office. “All right, all right, this once, I’ll help you out. But the next time your baby sister goes AWOL, try using the phone company.”

  “Thanks, Nick,” Dean said as he followed the deputy. He didn’t bother pointing out this was faster, and he wasn’t about to explain how legitimate a problem it probably was. The police were involved enough just searching for the ‘mysterious man’ who’d kidnapped Clare. More in-depth involvement would only make the entire situation even messier. If that was possible.

  ****

  For a long, terrible minute, all Arianna knew for certain was that her head was killing her. Her entire body felt sore, she realized slowly, but the pounding headache throbbing between her temples was enough to make her wish she could fall back into unconsciousness. It was as bad as any hangover she’d ever had.

  “Can’t you work any faster?” an angry, aged male voice snarled from somewhere to Arianna’s left.

  Adrenaline shot into her system and she finally managed to think past the consistent throbbing. That’s right. She and Angela had been dragged to their enemy’s temporary hideout. The last thing she remembered was Eric guiding Angela’s best friend toward the garage and pausing to reach for her. The little jackass must’ve electrocuted me again. It was a damned shame she didn’t have her stun-gun with her, because she would dearly love to return the favor. If she ever got the chance again, she would be sure to keep the prongs against his flesh until it ran out of juice.

  “No,” Angela declared, poorly-concealed agitation in her voice. “I can’t. You’re just going to have to be patient.” Arianna had never heard the emotional younger woman sound so detached. It was a tone that really didn’t suit her, but that wasn’t really what Arianna took away. Angela’s coherent, controlled response meant she was—if only currently—okay.

  Arianna took a deep breath, then, and pushed the headache as far from her mind as she could. She didn’t think their captors had noticed she’d regained consciousness yet and she wanted to hold onto that advantage as long as possible. Which meant she didn’t dare open her eyes to look around, even though she couldn’t tell much with her eyes shut. There was a man who wasn’t Eric to her left, and she had to assume Eric was in the vicinity somewhere. Angela’s voice had been almost straight ahead, but several feet away, and therefore so, presumably, was Jacob. Arianna herself was sprawled awkwardly over an uncomfortable chair, as if she’d fallen or been dropped. But had Eric dragged her up the stairs?

  No. Chances were the older man was Eric and Jacob’s father, and she was pretty sure she remembered learning their father was stuck in a wheelchair. So most likely they were still on the ground floor. A living room of some sort, probably. Not that that deduction was going to help her much, since she was completely unfamiliar with the house. Still, it was at least nice to know if they needed to jump out a window, they had decent chances of not breaking anything when they landed.

  “How long, exactly, do you think this will take?” That was Eric. He was somewhere to Arianna’s right, meaning she was pretty much surrounded by the enemy. Though both sounded a little more forward.

  “With injuries like this?” Angela returned shortly. Arianna pictured her gesturing to a horribly burned body, and a part of her was glad she hadn’t yet opened her eyes. “Get comfy. It’s gonna be a long n
ight.”

  “And you think we have that kind of time?” the older man snapped. What’s his name again?

  “If you want me to completely heal him,” Angela replied, “then you’re going to have to make that kind of time. My powers don’t have speeds. I’m either healing him or I’m not. There’s no halfway, no stalling, no speeding it up.” There wasn’t an ounce of remorse or apology in her voice. Good girl.

  The hairs on the back of Arianna’s neck and arms suddenly stood up, and an instant later the sound of a heavy fist landing on something padded and solid filled the silence. She was pretty sure the father had just slammed a fist onto the arm of his chair. Though, without opening her eyes, she could only guess.

  “I take it back,” Angela continued, sounding as if she were grinding her teeth now. “My powers will slow down if you don’t stop doing that! Your temper is only going to drag this out!”

  Eric sighed heavily and, with obvious reluctance, said, “She’s right, Father. We can’t be leaking electricity around her right now.” There was a strange silence and Arianna was ridiculously tempted to open her eyes to see what was going on. But then Eric continued, speaking a little faster this time. “Jacob needs us to control ourselves for a little longer, that’s all I meant. Are you thirsty? I could make you some tea.” Arianna was pretty sure that offer wasn’t being extended to Angela.

  “Fine,” the father growled. “Yes.”

  Footsteps to her right, rapidly fading, assured her Eric was leaving the room. And then Arianna found herself faced with a dilemma. If ever there were going to be a moment to use her advantage, this was probably it. There was no way they’d both leave the room at the same time. Not while they had a hostage and their mortal enemy was healing one of their own. So she figured the kid who could really give chase was, in all likelihood, the bigger threat. But what was she really going to do? She needed to survey the scene to know how reasonable making a break for it was, and she’d need to open her eyes and look around to make that happen.