The wind kicked up suddenly around them, swirling madly and throwing ash high into the air. Jessica stepped back slowly, leaving plenty of space between herself and the Brit. Wilkes looked around in surprise at the sudden gust of wind that pulled angrily at his clothes. His hand closed around his rifle as it banged against his leg. As he looked down at Xander, he was surprised to see the college student’s eyes consumed by brilliant white light.
Wilkes started to pull up his rifle, but the wind howled defiantly. It slammed into him, ripping the rifle from his grip, and tossing him ten feet backward. He slammed painfully into the locked doors of Selfridges where he was pinned, his feet dangling a foot above the sidewalk.
Xander casually climbed to his feet while maintaining the powerful wind. It moaned as it poured around the pillared edges of the long building, responding to his call.
He stepped in front of Wilkes and stared at him through his glowing eyes.
“You don’t need our help?” Xander asked, throwing his arms above his head with dramatic affect. “Look at you. You don’t even know what you’re up against. You don’t even know what’s really going on in London, much less the rest of the world. You’re so arrogant, cocky, rude, and condescending. Open your eyes and realize that you need our help whether you like it or not.”
Wilkes didn’t reply. He hung against the building with his mouth slightly agape as he stared in fear at the possessed man in front of him.
“I’m going to let you down now,” Xander said, as he seemed to regain some semblance of control. “If you so much as mouth off to me or act like you’re going to use that gun on me, I’m going to grab you, fly you up into low orbit, and leave you there. Do I make myself clear?”
Wilkes nodded slowly, as much as the wind would allow him. With a disappointing sigh, the wind died and the officer slid heavily down to the sidewalk.
Standing up slowly, he watched Xander warily. He brushed off the accumulated ash on his pants and shirt, slowly walking over to retrieve his gun.
“I don’t need your help,” Wilkes said sourly. “I can manage this on my own. You said it yourself. I have a gun, and they’re not bulletproof.”
Xander shook his head. The brilliant light faded from his eyes. “You don’t get it. There’s thousands of Fire Warriors in the city. Exactly how many bullets do you have?”
The Leftenant didn’t reply, but Xander could see the hurt in the proud man’s face.
“I didn’t think so,” Xander said softly.
Wilkes looked past Xander, and his hand tightened on his rifle. He started to raise it, but Xander knew it wasn’t because of him. He spun and saw a Fire Warrior leap onto the hood of a parked car.
The warrior’s eyes burned with anger, and he opened his mouth. Flames rolled from his throat, dancing around the roof of his mouth. Xander raised his hands but knew he wasn’t going to be quick enough to stop the Fire Warrior from breathing fire onto the group.
Sean stepped beside the car and swung a metal pole, catching the Fire Warrior just above his knees. The force of the swing knocked his legs out from underneath him. The warrior’s legs flew out behind him, and he slammed face first into the hood of the car. He limply rolled off the hood and slumped onto the asphalt.
Sean spun angrily on the rest of the stunned group. He looked at the metal pole in his hand. It was bent at an odd angle from the impact. He tossed it at Xander, who was too surprised to move. It bounced off his chest and clattered onto the ground.
“Are you two out of your minds?” Sean asked. “Have you forgotten where we are? Your little display of machismo is going to bring every Fire Warrior in the area crashing down on our heads.”
He walked past the two men and took Jessica by the hand, leading her toward the broken storefront window.
“Next time you two want to find out who’s the bigger man, pull out a ruler and measure them like normal people.”
He and Jessica climbed through the broken display window and disappeared into Selfridges. The other two looked at one another and shook their heads.
“What did he mean about bringing them all down on us?” Wilkes asked as Sean and Jessica disappeared.
“Later,” Xander said guiltily.
Wilkes gestured toward the other two. “You’re right, they are pretty tough.”
Xander shrugged. “Told you so.”
After a quick look for other Fire Warriors, they hurried to catch up with the others.
In spite of the broken display windows along the front of Selfridges, the interior of the store was in surprisingly good condition. Xander eyed the racks of clothes that were still untouched by the chaos and destruction that occurred outside.
Wilkes let Xander enter before standing against the wall and peering out toward the street. The smoke hung heavy in the air and wafted in through the open windows. He blinked heavily from where the soot was mixing with the sweat on his skin and running into his eyes. Wiping his eyes absently, he immediately regretted it when he realized all he had successfully done was to grind the filth further into his eyes.
He blinked rapidly, letting his tears wash away the pollution. As his vision cleared, he caught movement in the street. A small group of leather-clad men and women walked between the parked cars. They looked from side to side, clearly searching for something.
Wilkes stepped away from the window and grabbed both Jessica and Sean by their arms, pulling them further into the store. He wordlessly motioned for Xander to follow, and they hurried far from the dim glow of light from the open window.
The depths of the store were eerie without power. Emergency bulbs illuminated regions haphazardly, spilling pools of light over random racks of clothes and tall aisles of assorted household goods. In between those bright pools were inky black stretches, mazes of clothes and mannequins, half racks of towels and shirts, followed by long stretches of plates and appliances. It was a labyrinth of home care and high fashion made sinister by the lack of light.
“Check inside,” a voice called from the window. The sound carried through the vacant store, bouncing around the aisles as it chased after the retreating group.
Flames illuminated the front of the store as a pair of Fire Warriors stepped through the shattered window. Glass crunched beneath their boots as they stopped just inside and scanned the expansive dark store.
Wilkes pulled the trio into a men’s clothing section. Long suits hung to the floor like curtains, and he pulled them down behind the racks. The Brit pulled his rifle to his shoulder and quietly ejected the magazine. He counted the rounds still loaded inside. Satisfied, he slid it back into place with a gentle click.
Xander looked over at him sternly and shook his head. No matter how much his wind powers attracted the Fire Caste, a gunshot would be just as likely to draw every Fire Warrior in the area. Their best bet of escaping was to stay as quiet as possible and hope they passed them by.
A flash of flames burst from the hands of one of the warriors, shattering a nearby mannequin. The melted remains of the plastic figure skittered across the floor. The flesh colored mannequin bubbled and blackened from the heat. One of the arms came to rest beside Sean, who reached out and gently pushed it away from the flammable clothing.
“What’s wrong with you?” one of the Fire Warriors asked.
“Leave me be. I thought I saw someone,” the mannequin-slayer replied.
“I’ll leave you be,” the first said, “but you’d be a fool to think that General Abraxas would be so lenient.”
The name struck Xander like a hammer, knocking the wind from him. Abraxas was supposed to be dead, or at least had been that way the last time he had seen him burning and running into the woods. His surprise boiled into fury at the thought that the Fire Warrior was still alive. He had killed Xander’s parents and grandfather. If he was leading the Fire Warriors in London, then Xander knew he’d kill him.
He shifted suddenly and bumped into the clothing rack. The metal rods rattled against the hangars. Even as quiet as it wa
s, it was noticeable in the silent department store.
Jessica put her hand on Xander’s arm and squeezed tightly, letting her nails dig into his arm. His rage was apparent, and the last thing she needed was him having an episode and drawing unwanted attention.
“What was that?” a Fire Warrior asked.
Xander bit his bottom lip and silently swore for being so stupid. This was the exact behavior Jessica had berated him for when they were flying to London. He had let emotions override his common sense. If he had just stayed quiet, there was almost no chance that the Fire Warriors would have found them in such a large department store. Now, the best-case scenario was that the two Fire Warriors at the window would search the entire store. Worst-case scenario was that they would go get the rest of the Fire Warriors, and Xander’s group would be badly outnumbered.
“Someone’s here,” the other Fire Warrior replied. “Go get the others.”
Xander scowled. Though he didn’t want to use his powers again, he didn’t know if there’d be much of an option.
Wilkes knelt behind his rack of clothing and made eye contact with Xander. Xander furrowed his brow in confusion until he saw the Leftenant clench the pistol grip of his rifle tightly. He shook his head, but Wilkes didn’t seem to be paying attention.
“Stay here,” Wilkes whispered. “Don’t follow me this time. I mean it. Stay here.”
“Wilkes,” Xander said.
He wasn’t able to finish his argument with the British officer before the man jumped to his feet and sprinted across the store. When he was into the next section of the store, he ran his arm along a row of dishes, knocking them to the floor. They crashed loudly, shattering on the hard floor.
The rack of dishes behind Wilkes exploded as a fireball struck it. Flying ceramic struck the back of his vest but didn’t slow him as he ran deeper into the gloomy darkness of the store, searching for another exit to the building.
A jet of flame carved into the nearby racks of clothing, igniting the fabric. The hanging shirts erupted in flames and thick smoke filled the aisles. Wilkes gritted his teeth and ran on deeper into the store.
The Fire Warriors howled as they pursued the fleeing officer. Flames leapt from their hands, striking the objects around him. They ran after him, growing further and further away from Xander, Sean, and Jessica.
Xander heard the voices and yelling receding until the entire store was once again blanketed in silence. Lights flickered from the smoldering clothes across the store, but the fire was already dying out without spreading very far.
The trio slowly stood and looked around the empty store.
Wilkes slammed into the department store’s rear emergency exit, snapping the thin, plastic wiring that held the door closed from the outside. Without the electricity, no alarm sounded.
The dim sunlight struck him as he emerged onto the narrow, one-way street that ran behind the department store. Despite the gloom over London, the light was a stark contrast to the darkness of the building’s interior. He paused and raised a hand to his eyes as he looked left and right, scanning for more Fire Warriors.
A ball of flame struck the wall behind him, splashing fire across the metal emergency exit door. Wilkes jumped and looked over his shoulder, noticing the two Fire Warriors emerging from the gloom of the store. Flames reemerged around their hands as they prepared another fireball.
The officer started to raise his rifle but thought better of it. He tucked the weapon against his body so it wouldn’t rattle as he ran, and he sprinted down the street.
Though he’d been stationed in Kent for the past few years, he knew London and knew the streets that ran parallel to Selfridges. He was confident he’d be able to lose the leather-clad warriors on some of the side streets.
His lungs burned as he ran between the ruined cars. He was in good shape but wasn’t used to breathing pure ash. He coughed painfully as he felt a stitch starting in his side.
By the time he reached the next cross street, his side was burning from exertion.
“Bloody smoke,” he muttered. He leaned over, resting his hands on his knees as his lungs screamed for more oxygen.
“There he is,” a Fire Warrior yelled.
The car beside him burst into flames, and its side windows exploded outward. Wilkes threw up his hands defensively, protecting his face from the flying glass.
The Brit started running again, taking a sharp right. He frowned because Selfridges still sat on his right. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and the store. Otherwise, his entire plan of leading the Fire Warriors away from Xander and his friends would fall apart.
Another street opened on his left and he turned, hoping he had put enough distance between himself and the warriors that they’d have trouble following him. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to run at this pace before he’d have to stop.
Another burst of flames painted the wall beside him as he turned, telling him that he wasn’t lucky enough to have outrun them already.
“Why can’t these blokes be fat like the Yank?” he muttered to himself.
The run down the narrow side road was exhausting, and he could feel his blood pounding in his temple. His lungs ached, and he could feel pain spreading through his muscles as they burned through their oxygen.
He fought the yearning to turn and shoot the warriors. He knew a couple of well-placed shots would end this chase and probably catch the Fire Warriors by surprise. He also knew, however, that any gunshots this close to the department store would bring every other Fire Warrior to his position and jeopardize the Americans. Instead, he pushed himself through the pain and reached another cross street.
He turned right onto James Street. His feet caught on the sidewalk, and he stumbled forward. His arms felt heavy from the exertion, and he barely got his hands up before he staggered into the wall. He coughed again and looked down the road to where it reconnected with Oxford Street. It seemed a far run, and he wasn’t sure he felt up to it.
Instead of running, he slipped into a recessed entryway on the nearest building and sank into its deep shadows. He gripped his rifle in both hands, knowing it was time to use it, regardless of whether or not he’d put enough distance between himself and the others.
The Fire Warriors rushed around the corner and barely had time to acknowledge that Wilkes wasn’t on the street in front of them before the Brit stepped out of the alcove. He drove the butt of the rifle into the face of the first warrior, shattering the man’s nose. The warrior dropped to the ground like a rock, his head clattering on the concrete. The second raised his hand, but Wilkes quickly spun his rifle around and squeezed the trigger. The Fire Warrior lurched as the Brit fired three rounds into him at close range. The man gurgled before slumping to the ground beside his friend.
Wilkes didn’t wait to see if any others were coming. He turned and stumbled down James Street.
“Did you hear that?” Xander asked. He stopped his incessant pacing around the men’s wear of the department store. Canting his head to the side, he strained to hear the noise again.
“It sounded like gunshots,” Jessica said. She pulled her new jacket tighter around her body and absently pulled off the price tag that hung from the sleeve.
“Wilkes is in trouble,” Xander said. “We need to go after him.”
“Or he’s managing just fine,” Sean said, “seeing as how he has a gun and is clearly using it.”
Xander slammed his hand onto a clothes rack and scowled. “I don’t like just sitting around. He could need my help.”
Sean stood up from the seat he had dragged over from the changing rooms. “And what would you do if he needed help? Use your powers again? He’s in trouble because you used them in the first place.”
Xander frowned but couldn’t find the words to reply.
“That’s a little harsh, Sean,” Jessica said. “Aren’t you supposed to use humor as a defense mechanism?”
“Yeah but, apparently, I have a saturation poi
nt for stress and once I cross it, I become the mature adult in our group.”
Xander shoved his hands in his pockets and walked toward the open maw of the display window. Keeping to the shadows, he peered down the street, hoping to catch sight of the Leftenant. The street beyond was sadly empty, though the smoke limited his visibility anyway. He wasn’t sure he’d see Wilkes even if the man were running down the street a block away.
The city seemed abnormally quiet again following the gunshots. He didn’t like the idea of hearing the gunshots and thinking Wilkes was in trouble, but the silence was almost more frightening. Gunshots meant the British officer was still alive. Silence could mean he was hurt or worse. Xander swallowed hard at the thought that Wilkes could be dead. No matter how much Sean might be tactless and sometimes be a jerk, he couldn’t deny that he was right. The Fire Warriors had found them because Xander had lost his temper and foolishly used his power.
With a sigh, Xander turned back and rejoined his other two friends. Sean glanced over as he approached. Jessica was barely visible as she sat on the changing room bench, trying on a new pair of boots.
“I think we should go after him,” Xander said matter-of-factly.
Sean smiled. “I had a sinking suspicion you’d say something like that.”
“So?”
Sean jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “If we’re going after him, I need to hit up the sporting goods section. I’m getting a little tired of matching off with guys with fireballs in their hands with nothing other than my fisticuffs. There’s no way I’m going after a bunch of Fire Warriors without a weapon this time around.”
The heavyset man turned away from the other two. “Do they have sporting goods sections in England?”
Xander laughed. “Why wouldn’t they have a sporting goods section?”
Sean shrugged. “You never know. They call soccer football. They still play polo on horseback, play cricket, and say silly things like ‘sticky wicket’. Isn’t England also the one where the toilets flush the opposite direction?”
Water Shaper (World Aflame) Page 11
