by Becca Andre
“She’s just worried about you,” I said.
“I know.” He returned the phone to the console with a clatter.
“I understand families are like that,” I added, eyeing the twigs outside my window.
“Yes.” He didn’t sound annoyed, but it was hard to judge with just one word. I glanced over and found him watching me.
“You could have James’s family.”
He grunted. “That does put things in perspective.” He reached for the door handle. “Stay put. I’ll see how bad the damage is.”
I decided not to call him on the command and watched him climb out. Yeah, this car was definitely his baby. He circled the Camaro, occasionally squatting to look underneath. When the thicket obscuring my view vanished in a flash of light, I jumped. With the window now clear, I could see that we were only yards away from the fifteen-foot drop into the river below us.
Rowan opened the door and sat down, tapping the snow from his shoes before swinging his feet inside.
“Perhaps you should have spared the thicket,” I said. “It saved us from a cold swim.”
“Maybe I’ll have a plaque erected in its memory.” He reached for his door handle to pull the door closed.
I opened my mouth to comment, when the sound of squealing tires and the thump of metal on metal echoed down from the road. A pause was followed by a second collision, this one accompanied by a scream.
I was out of the car and scrambling up the bank before the sound died out. The Camaro shut off and Rowan’s door slammed behind me. I didn’t look back, concentrating instead on my footing. The leaves beneath the fresh powder were wet and slick, and I kept falling. The knees of my jeans were soaked by the time I reached the top of the hill. I gripped a sapling with my chilled fingers just as my foot slipped out from under me.
Rowan caught my opposite arm, pulling me up on the road beside him.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
Another scream reached us, but I couldn’t see what had happened. A bend in the road blocked my view. I fell in beside Rowan as we carefully jogged along the berm. We rounded the bend and finally saw what all the excitement was about.
Three cars had slid into each other on the bridge crossing the river, now a good twenty-five feet below us. One car, a blue KIA, had smashed into the rail and hung half over the edge, the backend dangling in space. Even now, it teetered as the couple inside tried to reach the toddler strapped in the back seat.
I sprinted forward, my shoes sliding on the slick pavement and trampled snow. Warm engines and spilled oil gave the area a faintly garage-like smell. The occupants of a white Yukon had their doors open, but the older couple inside was busy staunching the driver’s bleeding head wound.
The third vehicle, a red pickup, had come to rest against the opposite side of the bridge, the driver’s door blocked by the side rail. A teen no older than James was climbing out the passenger window.
I didn’t stop to speak to any of them. Hardly slowing, I ran over to lean against the front bumper of the KIA, hoping my weight would help stabilize it.
“Don’t move!” I shouted to the car’s occupants.
Rowan appeared beside me and took my idea a step further by climbing up on the hood. “I wish Donovan—”
Squealing tires cut off the rest of his words. I twisted to look over my shoulder. A brown delivery truck had rounded the bend, and unable to see the wreck until now, struggled to stop. He wasn’t going to make it. Brakes locked, the truck slid sideways, coming straight for us.
“Move!” Rowan shoved me away from the car. I stumbled, trying to regain my footing, and thumped into the side of the Yukon. Gripping a door handle, I managed to keep my feet beneath me.
The teenage boy had climbed free of his vehicle, but now stood beside it, staring at the oncoming truck like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Look out!” I pushed off the Yukon and ran toward him. I made it several yards before the ice got the better of me. I landed on one knee, slamming the joint against the pavement.
My shout must have worked because the kid seemed to rouse from his paralysis. Slipping on the ice, he tried get out of the truck’s path, but ended up on the ground instead. Through the wide windshield, I could see the driver jerk the wheel to the side. It worked. The truck skidded past, the locked front wheels mere feet from the downed kid.
The driver’s actions sent the truck into a spin. I pushed myself to my feet. Unable to do anything, I could only watch as the truck closed in on the KIA. I held my breath. Would it slide past?
The back of the truck clipped the front bumper and the KIA wobbled. The backend dipped as the hood where Rowan crouched rose. The family inside screamed, the sound muffled by the rolled up windows, then the car—and Rowan, slipped over the edge.
Chapter
8
I didn’t think I was the only one who screamed, but I lost all notice of the world around me. I ran for that gaping hole in the rail just managing not to slide over the edge myself.
The car hit the river trunk first and a smaller splash marked Rowan’s entrance a few feet away. I gripped the rail, and leaned out over the drop.
The brown water swallowed the car a lot faster than I expected. I glanced toward the bank, trying to mentally mark the spot where the car disappeared. Where was Rowan? Had he hit the water wrong and knocked himself out?
I leaned out further, scanning the water and searching for movement. How fast was the current? Like most tributaries this close to the Ohio River, the river was wide and deep, but not fast. Rowan shouldn’t be far from where he—
The water abruptly vanished, gobbled up by rolling blue-white flame. No, not all the water, just an inverted V in the center of the river. The walls of fire continued to burn, vaporizing the water that touched it. Steam rolled off the area were the two elements met.
Downstream, the KIA lay on its side on the muddy river bottom. At the apex of the V, holding those walls of flame, stood a water-logged Fire Element I knew all too well.
A crazy grin creased my face, and I ran for the edge of the bridge. I scampered down the bank, on my butt as much as my feet, until I reached the water’s edge. The river seemed a lot wider from this perspective. Rowan was only diverting—or more precisely, vaporizing—the water directly above the once submerged car. The water still flowed along the river’s edges.
I shrugged off my coat, stripping down to the zippered hoodie and tank I wore underneath. Sucking in a lungful of cold air, I jumped in. The shock expelled my deep breath right back out again. Fortunately, the water only came to mid-thigh, but it was so cold, it was painful.
The flaming walls Rowan held in place were another obstacle I hadn’t considered. I was forced to wade downstream to avoid them. The water crept up to my waist, then my ribs before I reached the open end of the V.
My limbs grew heavy, and pain clenched my chest with each frozen breath, but I pressed on. I made it around the mouth of the V and waded into shallower water. It seemed the air had dropped in temperature, the wind freezing my clothes to my skin. I slogged forward, the water gradually falling until I was ankle deep in mud that smelled of decayed vegetation and fish.
“Y-you in the c-car,” I shouted, or tried to around my chattering teeth. “Climb out!”
I circled the KIA, and through the windshield, I could see everyone moving around inside. The man stood on the driver’s door, struggling to open passenger door above him. The woman was in the back seat, working to get the kid out of her car seat. I couldn’t make out details through the glass, but it looked like they had all survived the fall into the river.
I climbed up the underside of the car and pulled myself onto the back fender, then pushed to my feet. My left foot slipped, and I almost tumbled off into the cold mud once more. I dropped to a knee and caught the passenger door handle before I s
lid off. Regaining my balance, I started tugging at the handle while the man inside pushed.
“Is it unlocked?” I called. Always check the simple things first when troubleshooting a formula, er, problem.
“Yes!” The car muffled the man’s answer.
I wondered if the water had fouled up the electric door locks or something. The door wasn’t budging.
Heat seared my palm, and my eyes were once again flash blinded. Overbalanced, I didn’t get a chance to wonder about retinal damage as I tumbled over backward and landed with a splat in the mud.
“T-thank you,” I called and rolled up onto my hands and knees. I raised my head looking a few feet past the end of the car where Rowan stood, ankle deep in mud and backlit by wavering flame. His expression was grim, his flickering eyes of orange and gold focused on me.
“Go.” He mouthed the word before closing his eyes. Blood already dampened his upper lip.
That got my frozen limbs moving. I shoved myself to my feet and turned back to the car.
The man emerged and squatted on the front fender to accept the child the woman handed up to him.
“Here!” I called and held out my hands.
He lowered the screaming little girl to me and then reached down to help the woman out.
The kid had a bleeding gash over her right eye, but seemed otherwise okay. Her lungs were certainly working—and she didn’t like being held by a wet, muddy stranger.
Her mother dropped to the mud beside me and took back the toddler. She didn’t attempt to sooth her, focused instead on the man holding back the river that wanted to swallow her family.
“Dear God,” she whispered.
Her husband landed in the mud beside us.
“He c-can’t hold it long,” I said. “Go!”
The woman turned toward the bank and her eyes grew wider. “I can’t swim.”
I opened my mouth to explain that the water wasn’t that deep, when the wall of flames shifted, reaching all the way to the bank. That would have been handy earlier.
“Hurry!” I told them.
That seemed to do the trick, and the family of three struggled through the deep mud toward the bank.
I turned back to Rowan and discovered that he’d dropped to a knee, his head bowed with the obvious strain. Shaking with cold and a good dose of fear, I waded through the mud to reach him. I dropped beside him, my knees hitting with a wet splat.
“Hey.” I gripped the shoulder of his sodden coat and glanced back at the family approaching the bank. “They’re almost t-there.”
“You go, too,” he ground out through gritted teeth.
“I go w-when you go.” I gritted my own teeth in an effort to stop their chattering.
“Can’t hold it,” he breathed.
“Then we s-swim.”
To my surprise, he wrapped an arm around my waist. “Stubborn,” he whispered, his mouth close to my ear.
“Pointless to g-give me c-commands.”
He braced his other hand against his thigh, and I realized he was trying to stand. I struggled to help him, or at least, not hinder him. Eventually, we made it to our feet.
I glanced toward shore, relieved to see the family scrambling up onto the bank. “They’re clear.”
The wall immediately collapsed, shrinking to a tiny half-circle just upstream from us and a good fifteen feet high. Brown water crashed in all around and I gasped, surprised by the force of it. Icy water drenched us, and I clung to Rowan, fearing he’d lost it entirely—or even lost consciousness. But the water fell, and we stood in a fire-ringed tube of space maybe five feet in diameter. I could feel the intense heat, but in my chilled state, I wasn’t complaining.
I looped an arm around his waist and urged him toward the bank. “Had you m-mentioned your parting of the Red Sea talent, I might n-not have called you a one-trick pony.”
“New skill,” he muttered. “Cora’s area.”
“If she showed up now, I’d give her a big kiss.”
“She might like that.”
I opened my mouth and closed it. Was he saying what I thought he was? I decided not to ask. “You okay, Hot Stuff?”
He grunted, but didn’t answer. He did keep stumbling along beside me and that was enough. I gave up trying to talk and just concentrated on moving. My face was beginning to feel sunburned from the heat, and I was certain my clothes were drying.
The water level fell as we approached shore, and the fire fell along with it. We were about halfway there when he whispered my name. I grunted in response, not feeling energetic enough for a verbal answer.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered.
Before I could even think to question him, he slumped against me and the fire winked out. The water crashed in around of us, knocking us both from our feet. Somehow I held on to Rowan. The water settled, and I was relieved to find that I could stand, though the icy water rose to my armpits.
I wrapped an arm around Rowan’s waist, helping him to his feet. Thank goodness he was still conscious.
“Not far now,” I whispered. “I got you.”
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and muttered something, but I didn’t catch the words. I decided to save the conversation for later. Even though we could touch bottom, it wasn’t easy guiding a half-unconscious man through armpit-deep ice water. We stumbled often, half swimming, half wading as we made our way toward shore. When the water fell to just above my knees, I was ready to claim victory. Then Rowan tripped, taking me with him.
“Sorry,” he muttered, though he didn’t attempt to regain his feet.
My arm still around his waist, I guided him toward the bank. Breathing hurt and my extremities were numb. I wanted to collapse, but I had to get Rowan—and me—out of the water. I slipped and slid up onto the bank, managing to pull Rowan partially out of the water, but I couldn’t seem to get any further. Without the buoyancy of the water, he was one heavy guy.
“Rowan, help me,” I said between gritted teeth.
He heard my request and surged up the bank. The sudden move surprised me, and I stumbled backward, pulling Rowan with me. A thick water maple stopped my progress, but before I could get my balance, Rowan collided with me. I ended up sitting at the base of the tree with Rowan slumped against me.
The family we’d helped from the river was picking their way along the bank toward us. The current hadn’t been strong, but it had pushed us downstream.
The family stopped a short distance away, seeming uncertain about coming closer.
“Is, is he…” The woman stared at Rowan.
“Really tired,” I answered.
“The Flame Lord,” she finished.
I glanced up at the now distant bridge, noticing more cars and the flashing lights of emergency vehicles.
“Your little girl is bleeding,” I said. “Perhaps you should get her checked out.”
“Let me help you up there?” the man offered. He sounded calmer, but his eyes were nearly as wide as the woman’s and his gaze kept returning to Rowan.
“Just send down a few blankets,” I suggested. “I forgot the beach towels.”
The man blinked. Maybe he wasn’t ready for humor yet.
“Go on,” I encouraged them. To my relief, they went.
I held Rowan against me and watched their progress up the bank. When I glanced at the bridge again, I noticed that the emergency vehicles weren’t the only new arrivals. A news van was parking along the verge.
“Oh shit.” I struggled to strip off my wet hoodie—not an easy feat with a tree at my back and a two-hundred-pound man leaning against me. I finally slipped the wet material from my arms, hardly noticing the wind against my bare skin. That was probably a bad sign.
Rowan mumbled something when I draped the cold fabric
over his head.
“The news is here. Keep your head down.” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, laying a hand on his head to keep the jacket in place.
He made another sound and struggled to raise his head. In the shadow of my hood, his eyes still glowed.
“And work on banking the embers,” I said. “If I do manage to spin a plausible lie, no one is going to believe it.”
He closed his eyes and bowed his head, his forehead resting against my collarbone. “Shit,” he breathed.
“I said that already.”
He raised his head again, and I was relieved to see the fire absent from his eyes. Though the blood on his lip bothered me.
“Rowan—”
“You’re wearing a tank top.” He looked surprised.
“The rest of the ensemble is on your head.” I looked down, and if I hadn’t been succumbing to hypothermia, I would have blushed. The thin white cotton clung to me like a second skin, and the wet and the cold were having the expected effect.
“Just a tank top,” he said.
“It was Era’s idea. No bra straps.”
He looked up, his skin pale, blood and exhaustion lining his face, and yet that smirk appeared on his mouth. God, he had a great mouth.
Movement beyond his shoulder caught my attention, and I saw the news crew heading down—ahead of the EMTs. The cameraman kept slipping, almost falling on more than one occasion. He must already be filming.
“Can we discuss my clothing choices later?” I asked. “We’re about to have company—and they have a camera.”
“Take back the jacket.” He reached for it, but I caught his arm.
“No. You’re not going to reveal yourself.” If the world knew his face, he’d never have any privacy. And crazy people with magic bullets could find him more easily.
