If it were just the humans involved, he wouldn't care as much. Levi paused a step, half turning just in time to see the flash off a glass door as the woman entered a nearby building.
Maybe.
But, as this world tipped farther away from order and harmony, the closer his own world was to destruction. All creation, even. Chaos had the ability to destroy the fabric of the universe, and for reasons unknown, that seemed to be its goal.
And, shit, too late. He had the buzz in the back of his head, more vibration than sound, and the twitchy, wild energy that filled him when they were close. The smell of burning plastic drifted on the air.
The Chaolt were here.
He spun in a circle on the sidewalk, drawing looks from the people walking by. Where the hell was the Chaolt? He couldn’t sense it. Usually his internal senses would lead him in the right direction, tell him how far away a Chaolt was. But today, nothing. Like a perilous game of hot and cold, he had to pick a direction to go and see what effect it had on him. Which is why he was now pacing up and down the sidewalks instead of having coffee across from a pretty woman.
So far, no matter which direction he walked, nothing. Very fucking frustrating, and just another way that he was the weakest link.
A bitter taste in his mouth, he took out his phone to dial the other soldiers, but he didn’t hit send. He could find that Chaolt without tracking it if he was lucky. They had features a little different than a normal human’s. Like him and the other Elemental Warriors, the Chaolt came here to the Mortal plane from their own. But trying to wrap Chaos up in a nice, fleshy, mortal package didn’t work so well. There were… consequences. The human mind usually chose to ignore the differences out of fear, but he could see them. All he had to do was find the right direction, find the Chaolt, and kill it before it had a chance to do anything to the Erratic. And he would, dammit. Because it was better this way. Better for him to show them that even if he was having trouble with his control, he could still do his job. He could still complete this mission, be on the team. And if the Chaolt affected him too much, and caused his own powers to go haywire… Better for him to deal with this without endangering any of his teammates.
He'd only gone two blocks when an explosion rocked him on his feet. A building burst into flames behind him— the building his lovely smiling woman had entered. There was an unfamiliar sensation, as if his heart fell down into his knees, and he began to run. Legs pumping, he dialed 911 on his cell.
“There was an explosion, the building is on fire! There are people inside.” He shouted the address and hung up on the dispatcher.
His next call was to the other Warriors, and when he sent a breathless prayer up to the heavens, it was that they would get there first.
Chapter Two
There was no air.
There was no fucking air. Wherever the fire was, it was eating all the oxygen. Behind her rising panic, she was surprised that she didn't really feel any heat yet, but the smoke was thick and she couldn't get a good breath.
As soon as she’d turned her key in the lock, she'd felt a little rumble, like thunder almost. And then the building's fire alarm had gone off. It happened often enough that she hadn't been worried. The alarms were sensitive, and would often go off for something as simple as an over-cooked meal. They always quit after a minute or two.
She had stood there at her door waiting for it to turn off for too many precious minutes. Just another burned dinner, right?
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
When she had finally caught the scent of smoke in the air, she was still only a little uneasy. Stove fire? She hadn't thought the smoke and the rumble were related.
She hadn't rushed on her way to the stairwell.
Half way down the sixteen flights of stairs, the smoke began to thicken, to choke her. Black, acrid, and hot, it burned her throat with every inhalation. There must have been some kind of explosion. She'd made the decision to press on down the stairs, collar over her mouth and nose.
Now, somewhere between the second and fourth floor, she was practically crab-crawling down the stairs, trying to keep below the smoke. But there was just so little air. Stopping for a moment because she was dizzy, she knew she was in serious trouble.
How many stairs to the next landing? She couldn't tell. How many stairs had she come down since the last time she stopped? She couldn't remember. The edges of her vision were fuzzy and starting to blacken, narrowing down to the stairs right below her feet.
Got to go faster. One more step. One more. One more.
Her progress was slower than it needed to be, and her tunnel vision almost didn't allow her to see the orange glow that blossomed on the landing above her. Through her panic, the heat she was descending into finally sunk in, but her dress was already clinging to her skin with sweat.
“Oh God. Oh God.”
It was too much. She had to stop to breathe. She sagged down, hands still on the rail, to sit on the last stair of the set.
I just need air. I just need a minute to catch my breath.
When she opened her eyes again, the smoke was thicker, the orange glow brighter. Flames were licking underneath the door on the landing. She had lost consciousness for a time. She was scared, but the feeling was muffled, like it was underneath layer upon layer of cotton batting.
That was before she saw the hallucination, but she just couldn’t find the energy to be concerned, even as the apparition approached her.
The handsome guy from before was there, the one she danced with, walking through a tunnel of flame towards her.
Why had her mind chosen to conjure him? Didn’t matter. At least now she had company.
Very good looking company. She smiled. Even if he was on fire.
Flames danced across his shoulders and his hair itself seemed ablaze. His jacket from earlier was gone, and swirls of molten color moved across his arms. Even his eyes, which had been that lovely amber brown, now glowed orange as he came closer.
In a shimmering bubble of heat waves he knelt beside her, gesturing to sweep flames off her lower leg.
She’d been on fire. Wow. It didn't hurt, it just felt odd, like her skin there was five sizes too small.
He put one arm under her back and the other under her legs and pulled her close as he stood up.
“You're gonna be okay. I will get you out of here.”
Brooke nodded and turned towards him. When she met his eyes, vertigo overtook her. It was like looking into the window of a furnace, and the harder she tried to focus, the more it was like she was falling into the flames. She looked away and into the fire in front of them, blinking. Confused.
She wanted to ask him if he was trying to dance with her again. But when she drew her breath to speak, it burned her throat and all she could do was cough. There was no catching her breath, no relief from the burning in her chest and throat, and every attempt was noisy and painful.
He carried her to an impassible wall of flame, and she knew this was it. There was no way to get through without burning, and the inky shadows at the edges of her vision told her she wouldn’t make it either way. She hoped she would be unaware of it.
Weakly, she tried to cover another cough, but dizziness swallowed her again as it wracked her. Her hand fell limp to her side and her head fell back. She stared right into the mass of hungry flames… And he carried her straight into them.
She expected pain, but was blessedly relieved to not feel a thing.
Her eyelids heavy, her eyesight was blurry and dark, what she could see of the hell before them was not what she expected. Somehow, as if they were in a bubble of glass, the fire swirling over and around them, but never touching them. It mesmerized her.
Beautiful.
Right before her vision went totally black, it looked like a solid wall before them incinerated, white hot flames melting wood, concrete and steel alike. It was only a moment until the blue sky was framed by angry pillars of black smoke through the hole.
That was the last th
ing she saw as her eyelids fluttered down and the darkness consumed her.
Levi felt her go limp and knew she was succumbing to the smoke. She’d stopped coughing and he could no longer even hear her wheezing breaths. He was keeping the flames from touching them, but he could do nothing about the smoke and super-heated gasses from the burning building. If he didn’t get her air now, she would die. And so might he.
He may be immune to fire, but not so much to smoke. His own chest was tight, his throat burning, and his mortal body too, could soon yield to the toxic air. Oh the irony, that he could die in a fire.
Hell. Fucking. No.
He prayed that there were no onlookers paying close attention, and with a wave of one hand he incinerated the wall before him, creating an opening to the outside. He stumbled through, the greedy flames behind them surging in to the space where they had been.
Coughing, dizzy, with her in his arms and steam and smoke rising from them both, he carried her away from the building. He laid her as gently as he could on the pavement, and dropped down, shaky, beside her. It had taken a lot out of him to use his powers to that extent, even more to control them.
Around him were several urgent conversations at once, sirens, but he couldn't focus on anything. All he could do was cough. A heavy hand grabbed his shoulder, trying to help him sit up.
His brothers were there, right there. Somehow, they'd known.
“She needs air,” he rasped, chest heaving. “She's not breathing. Get her some fresh air.”
Ajax was already kneeling beside her, two fingers under her jaw.
“Ajax—” He coughed. “Give her some air—”
“I am man, it's okay. I am.”
His own lungs began to spasm. The smoky air had been sucked out of his lungs, and fresh, pure air forced in to take its place. Goddamn, it hurt. His back arched with the icy pain. Ajax kept pushing in a little clean air with every inhalation, forcing out the hot, heavy air that had filled his lungs.
He waved his hand in Ajax's direction. “Not me, asshole. I'm okay,” he said, gulping air despite his words. “Give her the air.” His lovely smiling girl had almost died in his arms, still smiling.
“There's enough for both of you,” Ajax said gently.
He was relieved that she had started breathing on her own though it still sounded labored and strident. “Were there any others?” he asked as Walker grabbed his hand and helped him stand.
“No,” his commander said. “The landlord said there were only two residents missing.” He looked down at the slight figure on the ground. “Here's one.”
Hands on his knees, he squinted into the sun to look at Walker. “The other one, it's going to be the Erratic. I didn't get to him in time.”
Ice blue eyes took in the burning building and then came back to him. “Obviously.”
Levi hung his head. “Fuck.” That was part of what sent him into the building looking for her. It was his damn failure that put her in there when it exploded. He stood straight and pushed both hands through his sooty hair.
“She's coming around,” said Ajax, looking up at him, whose gaze was again pinned on her.
“Time to go.” The order came from Walker, and he'd never wanted to refuse so much in his life. Instead, he knelt down by her head, noticing the pale tracks on her face left by sweat and tears. He hated to leave her there, on the ground, alone and vulnerable. She'd be scared and in pain when she awoke. But necessity demanded that they were nowhere around when questions started flying. They needed to leave now, while the confusion would keep them from notice.
He leaned close to her ear and said, “You're going to be okay now. You don't have to be afraid. We'll get a second chance at that coffee.” It was a lie, but it felt like the right thing to say to a woman who had almost died in his arms after inviting him for coffee. Who he'd almost killed, with his negligence.
Her eyelids flickered, and in a split second Levi stood and he and the other soldiers walked away.
Before they left, he let a paramedic know there was another victim behind the building. Even as they rushed to her, he couldn't leave. He hung back in the deep shadows under the trees, until an even larger shadow joined him.
He swallowed, bristling at his commander's heavy stare.
“You want to tell me what the fuck happened here?”
He shrugged. If only he knew. “I sensed an Erratic. I couldn’t find it. The Chaolt… I couldn’t pinpoint it either. I didn't find either in time.”
Voice hard, Walker said, “I figured that out already, and we're going to talk about that when we get back to base. I mean, what happened… here?” And he gestured to the woman being lifted on a backboard.
He shrugged, jaw clenched. “Just trying to keep casualties down.” His voice was gruff from smoke, and something else.
Longing?
He turned away, and after another brief glance at the woman on the ground, Walker followed him.
Brooke stared out the window at the small slice of night she could see through the buildings. Her vision blurred, making hte orange streetlights waver in a way that reminded of her of flames. She took a deep breath, holding back the tears. The shock was wearing off and it was all hitting her now. The fire, the fear, the pain.
She swiped her burning eyes with the back of the hand that was free of needles and tubes.
They would release her in the morning, not too much worse for wear, considering.
Her throat was raw like it had been scrubbed with a wire brush, but the damage would heal in a few days. Her lungs hurt, but even without the oxygen they gave her, her breathing had recovered remarkably for someone who inhaled massive amounts of smoke. The only real injury she had was the burn on her foot and leg. She glanced down at the mass of bandages.
She was lucky, it could have been so much worse. Smoke inhalation usually killed people before the flames did. Which would have got her first?
She remembered the weakness, the dizziness. The apathy, as she looked at the danger all around her and couldn't summon the energy or the breath to do anything about it. She'd been suffocating, burning.
Dying.
She shivered at the recall. She remembered something else too, something inconceivable, but it had to be from the lack of oxygen.
Just then, a knock came from the door, and it opened up to a large bouquet with balloons.
“Come in,” she rasped, taking a steadying breath.
“Hello Brooke, my dear.” Debbie, her boss from the newspaper, pushed her way in behind the bouquet. She was a sweet, old-fashioned lady in her sixties, who dyed her blunt shoulder-length bob a deep red and had blue eye shadow as thick as her Texan accent. After three years at the same paper, they were closer to family than co-workers. She was like the aunt Brooke never had. “Oh my darling, I just couldn't believe it when I heard what happened! You poor thing. You're so very lucky.”
Debbie set down the flowers and came over to the bed. She grabbed Brooke's hand in hers, studying her with pursed lips. “We're all so glad you're all right. Don't worry about the paper, okay? The big issue is done, so you can have as much time as you need. And if you need more, it shouldn't be a problem.”
Brooke swallowed what felt like broken glass and tried for a little smile. “Thanks.”
Debbie patted her hand and pulled a chair up to her bedside. She sat down and opened her over-sized handbag, pulling out an open notebook and pen. “Now I know you can't talk much, so I'll try to just ask yes or no questions and you can nod.” The pen clicked, at the ready.
The change from concerned boss to reporter with a story happened so fast she didn't know whether to laugh or be insulted. Yes, Debbie was the boss, but they all had multiple roles when staffing was short. And staffing was always short at a small town newspaper.
Debbie’s expression held both regret and pleading. "I'm sorry we have to do this now. I know it's hard. It's for tomorrow's edition.”
Brooke nodded to let her know it was okay. If it were anyone else…
but this was Debbie.
“Other residents said there was a small explosion before the fire. Did you feel it?”
Brooke nodded. She’d felt the little shake as she put her key in the lock, and stood there, wondering what it was, until she smelled smoke. Stupid.
“The Sheriff’s department said the arsonist used a powerful accelerant, many times hotter than gasoline,” Debbie said, reading from her notes. “Did you smell anything, any kind of fuel?”
“No… Arson?” she squeaked out.
“Yes, arson. They said whatever he used was hot enough to burn through an exterior wall almost instantly.”
Almost instantly, yeah. That's how she remembered it. Concrete and brick and steel, melting and opening an exit to carry her through.
She put her hand to her head, the room swimming. It had been real?
Debbie grabbed her hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze at her reaction. With a sympathetic smile, she said, “I'm sorry, I'm done with the questions.” She put away her pad and pen and stood, fluffing her pillows and pulling the thin blanket up to her chest. But there’s something else.”
Brooke looked up at her, waiting.
“I already spoke to the paramedics and the police department. Your injuries are pretty minor. I'm sorry to tell you though, that your apartment's… ” She shook her head. though, that your apartment's… ” She shook her head. “The management company is going to find all the residents a place to stay though, okay?”
Brooke closed her eyes, nodding, a few tears leaking out despite her efforts to hold them back. The one good thing about being a workaholic is that she didn't have too many irreplaceable things in her apartment. Except for a few pictures, most of her memories were still in boxes at her childhood home.
But her things. Thousands of dollars worth of clothes. Her favorite fuzzy throw and the cute mug she always seemed to use together. The teetering heels she loved but always switched out for sneakers. The cheerful plants on her balcony. Her computer, and the bottle of wine she'd saved to toast her success at the paper. Destroyed, the day she’d finally made it.
Burn (Elemental Hearts Book 1) Page 2
