by Rose Wulf
And then, without any warning at all, the tornado dispersed and he was falling.
****
“Doesn’t it just burn you up,” Eric taunted as he dodged another blast of fire, “to know that your enemy was so close the entire time?” He poked his head around another tree, smirking broadly, and added, “And you never even suspected me!”
Dean cursed, angry and frustrated, and released a heavy breath. The burning flames around them flared in response. “I’d shut up if I were you, kid.”
“You know, I have to say,” Eric continued as he spun and abandoned that tree for a larger, sturdier one, “I expected more of a fight from you!” He turned another arrogant smirk toward Dean, slowing down enough to throw an arm forward and aim another bolt of lightning in his direction.
“Funny,” Dean quipped, throwing himself through the nearest wall of flames and rolling back to his feet, all the while ignoring the faint throb in his ankle. He came up several yards closer to the younger man, and he added darkly, “I was gonna say just the opposite.” He waited until Eric’s eyes registered comprehension of the insult before swinging his arms forward to better direct the surrounding flames.
But even as Eric cried out, eyes wide in terror, and turned to run through the tree line, toward where Emma was fighting with Logan, Dean came to a realization of his own. The fierce wind that had been tearing at them for the past several minutes had vanished without a trace.
Dean’s eyes snapped back to the foliage, where Eric had disappeared, but he hesitated. He was concerned that Nate was likely in trouble, and he couldn’t ignore that, so he turned back toward the clearing. However, after taking only two long strides, thunder crashed overhead in the opposite direction, and Dean recognized the flash of lightning that indicated Blake was still struggling with his own opponent as well, and again he cursed. But Blake was closer.
****
Emma gasped, choking on air as she pushed herself to her elbows and attempted to crawl forward. She lifted her eyes to her opponent and leveled a glare at him. The glare lingered as if she were struggling to concentrate and the air thickened with fresh electricity as she summoned more lightning. And hurled it straight at Logan’s head.
Logan ducked, letting the lightning crash somewhere behind him, and noticed that she was still managing to crawl forward. For a moment he was curious as to why she would actually crawl toward him, but an image of Kirk flashed through his mind and he understood. She was trying to get close enough to electrocute him through touch. He frowned at her and a knee-high wall of rock sprang up, directly in her path and effectively cutting her off. But it wasn’t until she made a strangled gasping sound in surprise, which he heard clearly, that Logan realized the wind had died down. He was sure it had still been whipping around them a minute before, and concern immediately twisted his stomach.
Emma shifted, ignoring her obvious pain, and lifted one hand to better aim her next bolt of lightning. She would strike him dead if it killed her.
Logan’s attention returned to her when he saw her hand rise above the wall separating them. He knew what she was planning, but now he was fueled with worry for his brother. Any traces of mercy he’d been thinking about showing were gone, so he flicked his gaze toward the still-raised spear of earth that he’d used to knock her from the tree, which was still impaling the branch she’d been resting on, and the spear collapsed. When it pulled back, the dangling branch was finally severed. It fell out and slightly sideways, dropping over the backs of Emma’s calves and knees.
But she was still conscious, which meant she was still able to attack. So he grabbed hold of the earth directly beneath her, needing to break her concentration, and bucked her backwards. The angle was horrible, considering the weight of the branch on top of her, and as she went airborne she screamed—partially in agony and partially in fear—before she was slammed once more against the tree.
Logan waited long enough to see her eyes roll up in her head, and even as she began to topple forward he turned and sank beneath the ground.
****
Blake barely managed to dodge Jacob’s latest barrage of lightning, coming to a stop behind a soon-to-be-burning tree and sucking in a breath. Jacob was holding his position stubbornly, but his accuracy with the lightning made it difficult for Blake to get close to him.
“You do realize you’re at a disadvantage, right?” Jacob called arrogantly.
“And how do you figure that?” Blake returned without bothering to try and get a visual on him. Most of the hail from the brief storm had melted, but it wasn’t enough to do much in the way of offering rejuvenation, and he couldn’t help but wish they’d been able to have this fight at the beach.
“Water is a conductor,” Jacob explained with a level of faux-patience. “It’s only a matter of time before I kill you.”
Blake ground his teeth and clenched his fists. At this rate, he was afraid Jacob might be right, but he certainly wasn’t going to sit and wait for it. “I’m afraid I have to disagree!” he called back as he swung around and threw a tight, slim stream of water—pulled mostly from the air—toward Jacob’s stationary form.
Thunder boomed overhead even as Jacob spun sideways, avoiding the attack, and Blake belatedly realized that neither of them were yelling as loud as they had been a moment before. The wind had quieted to a gentle, natural breeze, and Blake’s mouth went dry at the prospect of that development. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it, because another bolt of lightning was falling toward him, so he threw himself forward and attacked Jacob again. It was far past time for the fight to be over.
Jacob used a smoldering tree as a shield, but before he could counterattack once more, there was a sudden rush of heat at his back. He turned, facing the tree, and stumbled back as the smoldering wood suddenly ignited, the flames reaching toward him deliberately. And, just as suddenly, a feminine shriek pierced the air, echoing toward them.
“Sounds like you’ve got a problem,” Dean declared as he came to stand beside his still-kneeling brother.
Jacob took a deep breath and pulled down several bolts of lightning, aiming to keep the brothers back more than to destroy them. He was making his escape.
****
Nate was kneeling on the scorched and windblown earth, trying to catch his breath and push past his dizziness. He’d been transformed too long. Note to self, tornadoes are bad. He knew he hadn’t properly defeated Victor. He knew he needed to get to his feet and finish the fight while he could—preferably while Victor was still disoriented. But that first step of getting to his feet was hard.
An agonized cry of pain coming from Victor’s direction drew Nate’s attention, and he lifted his head, squinting his eyes a bit as he tried to focus and see what had happened. Victor was on his back, one leg awkwardly hanging over a rock that had already been released from the tornado. His hands were grabbing at the dirt and grass beneath him as if searching for purchase, and though he had already stopped screaming, he was breathing heavily. He looked like he was on the verge of panic.
Get up, Nate told himself firmly. Just get up. You’ve practically won. He had dropped Victor from enough of a height that he knew he’d done some kind of damage. And this time the almost-guilt didn’t even try to surface.
“Hawke,” Victor gasped, fury and agony vying for dominance in his voice. “I will kill you—with my bare hands—if it’s the last thing I do!”
But Nate didn’t have the opportunity to reply. Their attention was hauled away from their own fight by a pain-filled scream a short distance away. A distinctly feminine scream.
And then lightning was falling from the mostly clear sky. It struck the ground at random intervals, seemingly without a true target. Fires crackled and roared to life even as branches of all sizes crashed to the ground. A different kind of wind kicked up and the clouds slowly began gathering again.
Nate wasn’t sure what to do, or what was going on. He wanted to get to his feet to look around, but the sudden deluge of lightning
was draining what strength he had left, and it was suddenly all he could do to keep his eyes open. That scream had to have been Emma, so … did Logan win?
“Jacob!” Victor was suddenly shouting, projecting his voice almost like thunder over the storm.
The ground between the two fallen combatants lurched and rolled, and then Logan was there, kneeling beside his brother and dropping a careful hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Nate?” he asked, his voice slightly strained but stable enough.
Nate managed a weak grin as he looked up, slightly sideways, at his brother. “Good … to see … you.”
“You look like crap,” Logan declared, his own lips twitching.
Before Nate could manage another reply, Eric came bursting through the tree line, his clothes singed and his breathing heavy. “Father!” Eric exclaimed, running quickly over to Victor.
“Boy,” Victor said, rolling his head to look over at his son, “have you won?”
Eric looked down, a ghost of shame on his face, and admitted, “I had to flee. But, Father, Emma’s been hurt.” He raised a glare to Logan and added, “That monster struck her down. Jacob thinks we should retreat for now.”
Victor released a heavy breath, his eyes closing, and finally he said, “Get Emma in the car, and then come for me. I don’t seem to be able to move.”
Eric turned wide eyes toward his father, finally studying his awkward position, and then the glare returned to his face. He lifted his gaze once more to Logan and Nate and pushed to his feet, fists clenched. “I’ll strike you both down!” he exclaimed angrily.
Meeting his glare, Logan replied, “You’d better hit me with your first shot, then.”
“Eric!” Jacob called as he approached, an unconscious and bleeding Emma in his arms. “Open the back door!”
Glare vanishing, Eric scrambled to do as he’d been told. He rushed over to the Bentley, yanked open a back door, and moved aside in order to let Jacob secure their sister.
Nate and Logan watched as the pair returned to their father, carefully lifting him and carrying him back to the car. While they watched, Dean and Blake emerged from the tree line, Blake’s arm thrown over Dean’s shoulder. Both brothers were breathing heavily, and Dean was walking with a slight limp. But they were conscious and not bleeding too badly. They nodded to Logan and Nate, but Dean headed straight for his own car, sparing only a passing glance at the debris that had fallen on top of it.
“Come on,” Logan grunted, reaching again for Nate. “This fight’s over. Let’s get you home.”
“Yeah,” Nate managed, doing his best to help Logan help him to his feet.
The door to the Bentley slammed shut and Eric paused, hand over the passenger handle, and glared back at them again. “This isn’t over,” he assured them. “We’ll be back, and we’ll kill you all!” Then he yanked open the door and ducked into the car just in time for Jacob to roll the engine over.
“Something to look forward to,” Nate wheezed, trying valiantly for a laugh and ending up choking on his own breath.
“Stop talking,” Logan instructed as he half carried his brother to the truck.
They were barely out of the way when the Bentley flipped a dangerously sharp U-turn and sped past them. Jacob kept his glare on the road, but Eric turned his head to glare at them until he could no longer see them.
Logan ignored their enemies, satisfied in their temporary victory, and managed to tuck Nate into the passenger seat. He hauled a blanket from the back and draped it over him before stepping back and shutting the door. He paused, looked over to Dean—who was standing and waiting patiently by the open driver’s door of his car—and nodded. Dean returned the gesture before ducking into his car, and Logan moved around to climb into the truck. It was time to go home.
Chapter Nineteen
Missy had taken the news surprisingly well. At first she had accused Madison of joking, but once she’d realized her daughter was serious she’d only been able to offer stunned silence for a long minute. And then she’d managed a simple, “Now, you see, Madison—there really is still magic in the world.” It had been a short conversation after that, with Missy insisting that Madison call her the next day with an update and Madison suspecting that her mother still hadn’t quite wrapped her head around what she’d told her.
But Madison was off the phone now and had returned to the living room and claimed a seat beside Brooke on the couch. It looked like the wind was dying down outside, and no one knew whether to be relieved or concerned. So no one spoke as they watched the window. And as the wind continued to fade away, the silence in the room grew heavier.
Clouds slowly passed by, just thin gray wisps being propelled by a breeze too light to ruffle the treetops.
Angela was the first to start fidgeting. She’d been curled up in a corner of the couch, arms wrapped around her knees, but as the wind faded, her feet found the floor. After another couple of minutes one leg began to bounce in a slow, steady rhythm of anxious anticipation.
Brooke shifted her weight, her eyes falling from the window as she began subconsciously rubbing her thumb over her engagement ring. She pushed it up, then down, and twisted it from side to side slowly as she watched the dim light reflecting off the diamond.
Christopher wrapped an arm around Lillian’s shoulders, and Lillian allowed herself to slump into him. Their unfocused gazes remained trained on the world beyond the window.
Madison focused on her breathing as she watched the trees and the sky beyond. She took a long, deep breath in through her nose, held it for a moment, and then released it back through her nose. In and out as she waited. Just breathe and be patient. That was all she had to do. That was her job. But it was the hardest job she’d ever had.
They had all gotten so lost in the silence of their internal musings, with nothing but the faint sounds of Angela’s shifting, until the not-so-distant, muffled sound of a slamming car door startled them into the moment. Everyone stilled, looking around for a second, and then they heard it again.
Angela was the first on her feet, but Madison and Brooke were hot on her heels, and Lillian and Christopher were close behind them. They ran through the hall, and Angela wasted no time in throwing open the front door. And then they were gathered on the front porch, suddenly frozen again as their eyes finally landed on the quadruplets in the driveway.
Blake was leaning on Dean, who was limping, and trailing behind them were Logan and Nate. Logan had one hand on Nate’s back, helping to stabilize him, but Nate was walking on his own as he held the blanket around himself.
“I’ll get cooking,” Christopher said quietly before turning and moving back into the house.
The broken silence was enough to spur Madison back into action and she quickly moved forward, giving Dean and Blake plenty of room and coming to a stop on Nate’s other side. She wrapped her arm around his blanket-covered torso, but she couldn’t find the voice to ask the obvious question, so she simply held him tightly as she helped him walk. Once she was in place, Logan released Nate and moved quickly to help Dean with Blake.
“Let’s get you all inside,” Lillian said as they stepped up onto the porch.
Brooke moved back, lips pursed tightly shut, and held the door open wide so that Logan and Blake could pass. Angela filed in directly behind them, and Lillian and Dean followed her. She nodded at Madison as Madison and Nate trailed into the house, and as soon as they were clear Brooke pulled the door closed.
Blake was settled on the loveseat, where he could lean back enough to relax, and Angela knelt on the ground before him. She grabbed his hand, mumbled “You’ll be fine,” and called up her power. Brooke quietly claimed the chair nearest the loveseat, sitting on the edge and wringing her hands anxiously.
Dean sat down heavily on the chaise end of the couch, putting his legs up, and Lillian perched on the edge of the sofa so that she could rest her palms over his ankles.
Logan sat down heavily on the other end of the couch, leaning back into the cushions and letting his
eyes close.
Madison led Nate to the nearest bathroom, had him sit down, and then raced up the stairs to the bedroom. She quickly gathered up a change of clothes for him before running back down the stairs and around the corner to rejoin him in the bathroom.
“Thanks, Maddie,” Nate said quietly as she handed him the pile of clothing.
She swallowed and managed a rapid nod.
Nate frowned. She was all but shaking from the tension in her muscles, her eyes were probably red from the tears she’d cried earlier, and he could undoubtedly see as much.
“Maddie,” he said, setting the clothes she’d just given him on the counter. He held out his hand toward her and added, “Come here.”
Madison shook her head, finding enough of her voice to say, “You should get dressed before—”
“Come here,” Nate repeated, his hand still outstretched.
She swallowed again but did as he asked and moved into his arms, letting him tug her down to his lap and wrap his arms around her. “Nate,” she said softly, her voice almost cracking. She turned her head and let her face land on his shoulder, inhaling a deep breath of his scent.
Nate rubbed her back gently as he murmured, “I’m sorry, Maddie. But I’m all right, really. I’m just tired.”
Madison nodded mutely but didn’t lift her head from his shoulder right away. She was overwhelmed with relief to see him in one piece, walking and talking with only a bit of effort. And she knew he’d be fine after a good meal and some rest, but first she needed to gather enough of her own strength to help him get to that point.
It was a long minute before she finally eased out of his embrace, but her words came easier as she let her hand land on the clothes and said, “Let’s get you dressed so you can rejoin society.”
His lips twitched and he nodded, asking, “Are you gonna help me?”
