In Smoke And Ruins

by Gina Shafer

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Marcel says, ever the voice of reason.

  “Why do you think they’re attacking now? They’ve had six months to retaliate, and they choose now? It just seems odd.” Micha takes his eyes off his wife and baby for only a moment.

  “They must have found themselves a new leader,” Elijah barely whispers, and I find myself wondering what he’s thinking. His lips are pinched tight, and right now he feels about a million miles away instead of right next to me, peering out the window. I turn back toward the window too.

  “Shadow-walkers,” I say, and the words taste foul on my tongue.

  “Where?” Elijah asks, scanning the house.

  “The bush to the right, there’s one behind it and another crouching near the pathway to the backyard,” I tell him. They were hard to spot at first, but now that I’ve picked out those two, it’s like they all become obvious. Their silver eyes illuminate like an owl’s in the night. There has to be a few dozen, and they have the house surrounded.

  “Fuck. What the hell are shadow-walkers doing here?” I hear Elijah murmur.

  I’m sitting cross-legged up against the sliding glass doors leading out to the wraparound porch. It only takes a small tilt of my head to see him. He’s swallowing, like he just drank something thick, and as soon as I see him do it, I feel the same knot in my throat.

  “Xo, didn’t you say you intercepted a demon phone call?” he questions, his head swooping back to look at Xo.

  “I did.” Is all Xo says.

  Shadow-walkers and demons… working together? My gaze is dragged back to the demons the second they enter the house. It’s quiet for a moment, and then the silence is followed by loud, inhuman screeches, a noise I would expect only from the shadow-walkers. I notice that the sound is coming from the demons too. It’s unnerving, seeing the bodies of regular people inhabited by demons, making those noises. My stomach rolls as I watch. It only reminds me that these demons are the same on the inside as the burnt, decaying shadow-walkers I loathe so much.

  They’re angry, so angry it’s almost palpable even this far away. One by one, the lights flick on inside the house, and shadows cross behind the windows. It only takes them a moment longer to realize we aren’t there.

  There’s a moment when the angry, shrill voices stop, when the air around us is filled with silence. Everyone watching the house. Everyone but Scarlett, whose eyes never leave the baby.

  I hear the faint sound of glass breaking. They’re trashing the house—breaking the windows, throwing furniture against the walls. It’s chaos, and it makes my skin crawl. I flinch, and Elijah reaches over and places a hand on my thigh, squeezing tight.

  Suddenly the destruction stops, and it’s quiet again. There’s new movement, but this time it’s different. The demon walks with an almost feline saunter up to the house, and I can almost hear the click of boots on the asphalt. I’m confused until I see the glow of red hair under the streetlamp; it flickers as the demon walks underneath it.

  It’s Vara. It has to be.

  Elijah’s hand jerks from my thigh, and I know he sees her too. I want to face him, but he pulls away, his face blank and hard to read.

  Why is Vara here?

  And then it hits me. Is she their new leader?

  She steps easily over the broken glass at the front door and disappears inside.

  Not a single person utters a word, but I can tell they’re all in shock.

  “Was that…?” Marcel says, voice cracking.

  “Yes,” Elijah says through gritted teeth.

  “But why…?” Movement cuts off Marcel. The demons flee from the house like they’re escaping a bomb. For a second I think it’s a possibility, until I see Vara stroll out at such an unhurried pace, it’s almost as if she’s walking in slow motion. She pauses on the sidewalk and scans the street. The instinct to duck overcomes me, and I lower my head.

  Everything inside me clenches. Hiding from her bothers me a lot.

  Just as she turns to leave, Scarlett’s baby lets out a wail. It’s not loud enough to be considered a real cry but enough that it disturbs the quiet in the room. Scarlett shushes the baby and presses her closer to her breast. When I look back at Vara, she is unmoving, staring at the dirt in front of her feet.

  Fuck, does she know?

  I’m about to reach for my blades when she lifts her head and dashes away. Just like that, she’s gone. They’re all gone. And still, none of us move.

  In fact, we don’t move for a long time. Hours probably. Nor do we speak. This isn’t something the Sicarri is used to—sitting helpless while we watch the demons wreak havoc below us, or waiting until demons have left to finally make a move.

  I don’t think anyone knows what to say about Vara.

  Elijah’s phone vibrates sometime in the early hours of the morning, just as the sun is beginning to rise. He jumps and then digs into his front pocket, snatching it up and pressing answer. “‘Lo,” he says, exhaustion heavy in his eyes and voice. He listens intently, then roughly rubs his face. “Yeah, it should be safe.” He sighs. It must be Soren. “We’ll take a few back now, and I’ll take a look.” Soren says something, and Elijah swallows hard. “It’s bad,” he says. He listens for a moment longer and then ends the call after saying a quick goodbye.

  Why didn’t he tell Soren about Vara? The omission strikes me as odd, but I shrug it off.

  It’s a short walk from here to the house, but the whole time I try to fight off the sick feeling that’s been in the pit of my stomach since I saw Vara’s fiery red hair with my own eyes. When we reach the front door, glass crunches beneath our feet. It’s only Elijah, Marcel, and me at first. Scarlett and the baby finally fell asleep not long ago, and Micha decided to stay back with them. Ted and Xo go around back to check the perimeter.

  When I look back at the house we were hiding in, a thought hits me. Scarlett and Micha never had a chance to name their baby. Sadness overwhelms me for their family. For the family that we’re all part of. For the unfairness of it all. And I find myself wishing for things I almost never let myself wish for anymore.

  “Stay close,” Elijah whispers as we cross the threshold of the front door. I nod, though he’s in front and can’t see it.

  “Do you think this might be a trap? They could have planted anything here.” I step over a large sheet of glass near the dining room. He stops and I crash into him my face knocking hard into his shoulder blade. “Ouch. Why did you stop?” I ask, rounding the corner to stand in front of him when he doesn’t answer.

  He’s frozen on the spot, and it only takes me a moment to realize he’s staring at something on the floor in front of the stairs. I follow his gaze, locking my eyes on the same object that froze him.

  His journal.

  It’s open, lying neatly face up. I step closer, and for a moment it seems like Elijah is going to stop me, but he doesn’t. I crouch next to it, tilting my head to read the small writing at the bottom of an entry.

  “I think you need to look at this,” I tell him. He crosses the room at lightning speed and snatches up the journal, slapping it shut after reading what it has to say.

  It makes no difference though. I don’t think I could get those words out of my head if I was able to burn them away. He knows too. I can see it in his eyes. The discomfort. The worry. The curiosity. It’s all there, written plainly across his features.

  It was an address, written simply in an elegant script, followed by three simple words.

  1523 Brekin Rd. Suite B – Sheffield County, Texas.

  It’s not over.

  The many possible meanings of Vara’s note race through my mind. What’s not over, the fight? Her relationship with Elijah? I have no idea, and it’s easy to see that neither does Elijah. He stalks away, checking the other rooms, while I drift to the kitchen. The cabinets have been emptied, the cups and plates smashed against the linoleum floor with such force that pieces have imbedded themselves in the wooden cabinet doors.


  “Dad!” Soren calls from the front of the house. I greet him with a nod and then point in the direction to where Elijah dashed up the stairs. I hear their muffled voices through the ceiling, and my eyes wander up in their direction. I want badly to listen in on the conversation I know they’re having. I want to know what Elijah has to say about Vara, about her message. He’s got to be reeling. I find my feet moving on their own accord, gliding across the wood floor and growing closer to the stairs.

  Willow stands in Soren’s wake, but instead of following him, she walks over to me and gives me a small and gentle lick on my cheek. Then she waltzes over to a mostly clear area, lying down with a huff.

  Instead of giving in to my moment of weakness, I cross the room and start picking up the pieces of broken furniture riddled around the floor. I take the hair tie from my wrist after a bit and gather my hair on top of my head, securing it into a messy bun. My neck has started is sweating, and I could use some water, but I don’t stop. I keep organizing, thankful for the distraction. After about twenty minutes, I’ve got piles of wood and large shards of glass separated. I’ve also sorted any remaining computer equipment, setting them aside. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to pull any useful information off of the drives, but it strikes me as odd that the demons didn’t take any of it.

  After a while, Willow finally gets up, most likely in search of Soren, and I watch her tail sway as she trots though the house.

  I’m startled when Elijah finally trudges down the stairs, speaking loudly on the phone. Actually, he’s shouting, but he doesn’t sound angry. I drop the broken piece of door in my hand and listen in.

  “Yeah, that’s right. Tonight. Will you be able to get it?” Long pause. “Good, good. Thanks. Listen, I appreciate—I said I appreciate it!” he shouts. He follows that with a frustrated grunt and then ends the call.

  “Who was that?” I ask, wiping the sweat off my brow. I’m going to need gloves for the rest of this. My hands are already marked up.

  “Why are you doing all this yourself, baby?” He shoves his phone in his pocket.

  “Huh?” I ask, caught off guard by his sudden closeness.

  “Cleaning up. Look at your hands. You should have waited,” He tells me, bringing my hands up in front of his face for inspection. They’re scratched and torn from handling all the glass and sharp pieces of broken wood. I hadn’t even noticed the pain until right now.

  “Oh, I just need the distraction,” I say quietly, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

  He nods and kisses the tips of my fingers, lingering longer than he normally would. When my eyes meet his, I see a heat there that I wouldn’t have expected at a time like this.

  “Not that kind of distraction.” I laugh, reminded of our time together last night.

  “You should wear your hair up like that more often.” He smiles, but I frown.

  “What’s with the light mood?” I ask. This is a complete three-sixty from his demeanor less than thirty minutes ago. What happened?

  “I just love you,” he says, pulling me close.

  “I love you, too.” I attempt to pull away. “I’m all sticky and sweaty.” He doesn’t budge. “There are people around. Your son is here.” He walks me up against the wall and cages me in his arms. “What are you—” I begin to ask, but his lips cut me off.

  I immediately melt, my hands finding their place at his chest. I run them up, circling the back of his neck and running my fingers through the short hair there. His moan vibrates through my chest, and his tongue darts out, finding mine.

  His hands trail up, and when he caresses my breasts over my plain black tank top, and my knees go weak.

  Someone clears their throat behind Elijah, and I still, both embarrassed and disappointed at being interrupted.

  “Did you find it?” Elijah asks without looking around, somehow already knowing that Lincoln stands behind him.

  “I did,” he answers.

  “When do we leave?” Elijah asks. His eyes don’t leave my face.

  “Midday, and I can only take four.” Lincoln quickly leaves the room, as silent as when he entered.

  I turn to Elijah and question him by raising an eyebrow.

  He traces my collarbone before finally making eye contact, sighs, and then takes a step back. “We’re going to the address in that Vara left,” he says, jaw clenched.

  “Why?”

  “Soren. I couldn’t talk him out of it. He wants to know what Vara is up to.” This is the first time he’s said her name since we saw her hours ago. The first time we’ve acknowledged that she was really here.

  I slide out of Elijah’s arms. “Okay,” I say. “We’re going. What should we pack? Obviously Scarlett and Micha will have to stay behind. We’ll get them set up in that house until we can find somewhere more secure. Or maybe the warehouse has room. Where did Soren go?” I ask, realizing I never saw him leave the bedroom upstairs.

  “He’s still upstairs, planning our route,” Elijah says.

  “Our route? How are we getting there?”

  “That’s where Lincoln comes in. He got us a helicopter.”

  “And does anyone here know how to fly the damn thing?”

  “Lincoln does, but he can only fit in four of us, as he said.”

  Only four? And leave us vulnerable again, with less Sicarri than we’re used to? I don’t like this idea.

  “Elijah…,” I start, but he rushes me again, pinning me to the wall.

  “Karina, please listen to me, okay? Stay here. Soren, Marcel, and I will go. Help look after Scarlett and the baby. Stay safe. Please,” he begs, kissing me from my lips down to my neck, above my breasts, and back up again. I close my eyes and drift for a moment, feeling his lips velvety soft against my skin. Then I’m jolted back into reality by the ache in my heart.

  “Stop for a minute,” I say, and he pulls back right away, desperation still clear in his eyes. “I can’t stay back again.”

  He immediately shuts his eyes tight.

  “That’s not fair. You’re never going to be able to keep me from harm all the time. I am Sicarri, just like you. And Sicarri don’t run,” I tell him.

  He nods and mutters something under his breath.

  “What?”

  “I can’t lose you,” he says, louder this time, meeting my eyes.

  “And I can’t lose you. Don’t you think we should stick together to make sure that neither of those things happen?” I ask. He nods again. “So come back here,” I demand, and he does.

  His hands find my hips, and he gives them a squeeze before moving them to cover my ass with his palms. His lips gently brush mine.

  “How long do I get to keep kissing you?” I smile, and our teeth crash together lightly.

  “About an hour should suffice,” he says. Then he releases a deep breath, like he’s been holding it for days. “I’m sorry, you know. That wasn’t fair. But I get so afraid, thinking of you even being near her.”

  Her meaning Vara. “Why?”

  “She was able to fool me for so long. Hell, she fooled everyone. I don’t want her to do the same to you. I love you. I found my life with you.” He wraps his arms tightly around me.

  “Do you think that I’m not confident in that? That she could ever make me doubt us?”

  “I’m not sure,” he whispers, his lips trailing along my earlobe. Some would think it’s odd for us to have this conversation while our lips haven’t left each other’s skin, but for some reason, it’s easier. His skin is like a balm for me, and mine is his. It keeps me calm.

  I close my eyes. “She can’t,” I say, sighing as his mouth returns to mine.

  There may have been more words exchanged, but I can’t remember a single one. He dragged me into a room and made love to me, quietly, until it was time to leave. There were things we needed to do, but we didn’t do a single one, and I don’t regret it.

  We’re squeezed tight in a cobalt blue helicopter, our shoulders rubbing against each other’s. Soren is in the front seat, next to
Lincoln. Take-off was a little shaky, but now that we’re up in the sky, it’s calm.

  Willow wasn’t too happy about being left behind on this one, but we really didn’t think there was room for a dog on the trip. Plus, Soren didn’t even want to consider the thought of Vara getting her hands on his her.

  I look out of the window and take in the earth below us. Being up here, so far removed from the war we’ve been fighting for so long, and the sound of the helicopter drowning out all the noise in the world—it’s peaceful. And even though we have no idea what we’re heading to, whatever Vara has planned for us can never take away this moment. I reach over and grasp Elijah’s hand in mine, and shut my eyes.

  It isn’t long before Lincoln drops altitude. We must be close. We didn’t think it would be smart to use the radio, in case someone intercepted our connection, so there’s not much communication right now. I take my cues from Lincoln’s hand movements. He’s pointing to his wrist, and then immediately after, he holds up five fingers. Five minutes.

  One minute passes, then two, and before I know it, Lincoln finds a large patch of grass and brings the helicopter to land. How is it he knows how to fly one of these?

  I don’t have long to consider the thought, because we have a long walk ahead of us. It wouldn’t be wise for us to land in front of the address Vara left, so we picked a spot about three miles away. Once our feet hit the pavement, our pace quickens. This town in Texas is much like ours at home. Most of the roads are deserted, the houses abandoned in a hurry. I wonder for a moment about the safe areas here; where they are and whether they’re any safer than the ones at home. It’s a welcome reminder of how this demon problem affects the whole world.

  Demons uprooted people from all over. Once the burn caught on, it was hard to get a handle on things. So many people couldn’t resist the burn of their flames. Sometimes I still find it difficult.

  I peek at Elijah, whose sweaty skin glints in the sunlight. His gaze is hard and unmoving at the asphalt under his feet. As we grow closer, I feel the heat and energy radiate around the group. We’ve worked ourselves up so much that our magic is near the surface. There isn’t much time to gain control of it, because before I know it, we’ve stopped behind a cement wall and are looking directly at the building Vara sent us to.