by Linsey Hall
Shit. An alchemist.
Oh, shit.
No. No. No.
These monsters—Magisteria and Doyen and even Ares—wanted me to steal this man’s gift.
It was the only reason.
They didn’t want me to rescue him. This was no normal trap. He’d been put here by them. So that I could kill him and steal his magic as part of my test. They wanted me to do a horrible thing.
The problem was, so did my FireSoul. It clawed and screamed inside of me, desperate to get out. Shaking, I stumbled away.
I’d never felt hunger like this—a ravenous desire to use my gift to steal. But I’d never been confronted with an alchemist before. Of course my FireSoul would love to possess the power to turn anything into gold.
It was the heart of a dragon. And I was a dragon.
And I needed more power. I’d been so weak getting here. My magic had helped, but not enough. Without Ares’s healing power, I’d never have made it.
It was clear I needed more power.
This man’s power.
No!
“I can’t!” I cried. “I won’t.”
The air in front of me shimmered, white and glowing. Soon, Doyen appeared, her red hair gleaming even brighter in the glow of the lava. Her white robe glowed brightly, so clean and pure. Like her.
My brain stuttered. That thought was weird. She was far from pure.
“You must, Phoenix Knight.” Her voice sang with power. “Take this man’s power. He is evil. He deserves it.”
I looked down at the man. He was still unconscious, but she was right—even like this, he looked evil.
He was a bad man. My mind was cloudy, but that thought was obvious. This dude was bad news. I could take his power and not feel guilty.
“Do it, Phoenix. And you will join us.”
Hunger gnawed at my belly as I looked back and forth between Doyen and the man.
“You could use his power. Become even stronger.” Her eyes blazed with power. Her magic rolled off of her.
She was right. My gaze darted to him, then back to her. Something in her gaze gleamed.
I blinked, shaking my head. Some of the fogginess in my mind dissipated. I shook my head again, trying to drive the rest away.
“You’re screwing with my mind,” I said. Her gift was mind control. She was trying to make me think this man was evil. To make me kill him. “You snake.”
I crawled toward the man, putting my hand on his head. “I feel no dark magic on him.”
Doyen turned to face me, glaring down. “He doesn’t need dark magic to be evil.”
“That’s true. But I have no reason to trust you.” Fates, I was hot. My head was swimming, my FireSoul gnawing at my belly.
I used my magic to conjure a gallon of water, chugging some of it, then splashing it on the man. He didn’t wake, but I felt a bit more sensible.
I needed to embrace my magic—and yes, I needed more of it—but not like this. Not from an innocent man.
It was too much like my past. Too much like my time in the Monster’s dungeon.
And Doyen was too much like him.
I spat at her. “Fuck you, Doyen. I’m not your dog. You want me to take his alchemy and make gold for you, is that it? He won’t do it?”
She tilted her head. I took it to be a yes.
“Well I won’t either. I’m not killing him.” I stood, stepping away, toward my bridge. I had no freaking idea how I was going to have the strength to get out of here, but I needed to find it. “You put that poor bastard here, you get him out. Ask him nicely to make your gold. I hear that works wonders. Maybe even try the word please.”
“We will not.” Doyen’s voice was so cold I swore it sent a lovely chill breeze through this nightmare volcano.
I turned to her. “Won’t ask nicely or won’t get him out of here?”
“We will not take him.”
Truth.
So much truth in her voice.
“So he’ll die either way, is that it?” I asked. “You sweeten the deal, telling me he’s as good as dead?”
“You can’t get him out of here. So if you leave, he will die. If you take his power, he will die. But at least you will have his power.”
Rage filled me. At her doubt. At her cunning plan. At my odds of failure. I sucked in a breath, using it to fuel my determination.
“You think I can’t do it?” I demanded.
“Of course you can’t. You could barely get yourself down here. I doubt you’ll make it out alive. Much less with him.”
“You’re gonna eat those words.” Because I wouldn’t let that man die. I wouldn’t let this bitch win. And I certainly wouldn’t spend my last hours on earth sucking in this boiling hot air and sweating like a fireman.
I didn’t have the strength—she was right. But I was no flipping quitter. I’d trick my own body if I had to. We were getting the hell out of here.
I didn’t know how, but I’d figure it the frick out.
Chapter Six
I stumbled toward the man, landing heavily on my knees next to him. The heat was really getting to me on this nightmare island.
It’d already gotten to him, from the look of things. Sweat soaked his clothes and coated his skin. I’d have to get some water into him, try to revive him, but first I needed to get him off this island.
This heat would never allow him to wake. At least the ledge on the other side was a bit cooler. I still didn’t know how we were getting there, but I’d figure it out.
One step at a time.
I’d once heard a saying: Inch by inch, life is a cinch, yard by yard, life is hard.
Well, I’d be going by fractions of an inch, but I’d get there.
“Quit staring at me,” I said to Doyen as I inspected the shackle at the man’s ankle. I could feel her gaze on my back.
The shackle was a simple, old style—but made of solid iron. That meant no breaking out of it. But breaking into it?
That, I could do.
I conjured some little picks for the lock and set to work, slipping the two slender pieces of metal into the hole where the key would go. It took a few moments, mostly me being clumsy because of my exhaustion, but finally, the locks nicked.
“Jackpot.” I tugged the metal off his ankle.
“Hardly,” Doyen sneered. “You’re so weak you can barely keep yourself upright. You have basically no magic. That man weighs more than you do. No way you can carry him out of here.”
I studied the man, grateful to see that he wasn’t that much bigger than me. One hundred and sixty pounds, max. And only five ten.
“I’ve got this.” I stood, mind racing. I had to get him to the other side.
How?
I didn’t have much magic left. Exhaustion was dragging at me. I studied my narrow bridge. An idea popped into my mind, simple and terrifying.
But I didn’t waste any time debating. I didn’t have time to waste. Not down here. Now when my bridge wouldn’t last forever and my strength was on its way out.
So I called upon my magic, conjuring a big wheelbarrow with a wooden wheel. Rubber wouldn’t work down here. I laughed when it appeared, realizing how insane my idea was.
And how I had no other options.
“Are you serious?” Doyen demanded.
“As a heart attack.” My own heart pounded as I tried to heave the man into the wheelbarrow.
This was utterly insane.
But I kept going, straining to heave his bulk into my repurposed gardening tool. When I finally got him in, my breath was heaving.
He looked like a rag doll, or a drunken dude being wheeled home from the pub.
I wished I were wheeling him home from a pub.
Instead, I was about to wheel him across some lava while my muscles screamed and my head swam. I pushed him toward the narrow bridge. I could really use one of those lava suits right about now, but I was almost completely drained.
It wasn’t going to happen.
“That is
insane.” Shock and awe colored Doyen’s voice.
“I completely agree.” I sucked in a bracing breath, then pushed the wheelbarrow onto the bridge.
I had to force myself to breathe as I balanced the wheelbarrow and myself. Speed was key to balancing a wheelbarrow—I knew that from my garden trove—so I pretended I was pushing a load of dirt on a sunny day and headed straight for the other side.
The heat warmed my boots and made sweat pour into my eyes—I didn’t think they’d ever stop burning—but I kept going, trying to outrun the heat that dragged at my every step.
Inside my head, a stranger shrieked with insane laughter at the situation. It felt like I was two people—the insane person pushing a wheelbarrow over lava and a rational person marveling at the lunacy. An out-of-body experience.
Through the haze, I heard a popping sound from behind me. I glanced back, seeing some of the adobe pop off the wooden bridge, propelled by steam from inside the wood.
Shit.
My bridge was faltering. The wood must have been a bit wet. The result…
Disaster.
Bits of adobe popped off the bridge left and right as the water in the wood turned to steam. My heart thundered in my ears as I picked up the pace, sprinting. Trying to outrun my breaking bridge.
It wobbled beneath me. I almost lost my balance, catching myself and the wheelbarrow at the last minute.
The man slept through it all, limp body dangling precariously over bubbling lava.
I sucked in a ragged breath of steamy air and hurtled the last three feet, making it onto solid ground as the bridge behind me exploded in a mass of steam and flying adobe and wood.
I dived to the ground, covering my head. A shard of adobe sliced my ear, the pain sharp. I stayed there for a moment, huddling against the ground and hoping it was over.
When I stood and turned to the lava, the bridge was gone.
Shit.
My knees gave out and I collapsed, catching myself on my hands. I gave myself two seconds—two blissful seconds—of pretending this was over, then I climbed up and sneered at Doyen, who watched me.
I didn’t wait for her response, just turned back to my wheelbarrow to see my new buddy still passed out cold.
I approached and gripped the wheelbarrow handles, then pushed the man farther to the edge, near the wall of the volcano. As I’d hoped, it was cooler a bit farther from the lava.
It was still terrible over here, but much cooler. Unable to control my shaking legs and desperately needing some water, I sank to my butt and leaned against the wheelbarrow.
“We made it, pal.” I conjured a jug of water and gulped, replacing the quarts that I’d lost to sweat.
Quenched, I struggled to my feet and turned to him, then poured the water on his head.
I swear to fates, his head sizzled.
Honestly, it looked delightful. If I had a moment to spare, I’d have poured some on me too. Instead, I lifted his head and tried pouring it into his mouth.
It burbled out of his lips, dribbling down his chin.
I looked up at the exit to the volcano, three hundred yards above us. Maybe more. The moon hung right overhead, a bright beacon that was so damned far away.
“We’re screwed, dude.” I looked back down at him.
His eyes were fluttering open!
I shook his shoulder. “Come on, you gotta wake up!” I poured a thin stream of water over his lips. He shuddered, then drank. “That’s it. Drink up.”
He drank at least a quarter of the gallon, then opened his eyes.
He sure didn’t look evil. I glared at Doyen, who still stood on the island, watching me, then glanced back at the man.
“You gotta get up. Can you transport us?” Please, please, please.
“I—” he coughed, shaking his head. “Too weak.”
“We’ll die in here.” I pulled at him, trying to get him to stand. He managed it, barely. For just a moment. Then his legs wobbled and he collapsed against me.
Shit.
“Come on, pal.” I shook him.
He managed to straighten, his pale blue gaze meeting mine. In his khaki pants and collared shirt, he looked like a bank manager on the weekend. One who’d spent Saturday in a volcano.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“In a volcano.”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, then looked around. His eyes widened until I could see white all around the irises. He gulped in air like a fish.
I gripped his collar. “Focus. You want to live, you have to focus.”
Like a man who suddenly understood it was do or die—which it was—he sucked in a ragged breath and his features calmed. He nodded.
“Can you transport us?” I asked. “Or even just yourself?”
He shook his head, despair in his blue eyes. “I’m a weak transporter. Can barely manage across a room on good days.”
Disappointment filled my chest. Felt like I’d eaten rocks.
I’d bet he was a good alchemist, dang it. Something completely useless in this scenario.
I glanced up, hoping to see Ares coming to help.
There was no Ares.
Damn it.
I looked back at the man. “What’s your name?”
“Kevin.”
“Okay, Kevin. We’re climbing out of here.”
He looked up at the volcano walls, brows up to his hairline. “How? The wall is vertical!”
“That’s a seventy-degree angle. Ain’t nothin.” Oh my fates, we’d never make it. I pasted on an encouraging smile. “It’s literally climb or die, pal. And I choose climb.”
He nodded, head wobbly.
I was going to scale a nearly vertical wall with a bobblehead doll.
This was gonna be great.
And we might not survive it. It’d been hard enough to make it down. That’d been before I’d conjured a giant bridge and crossed some lava. My muscles felt like spaghetti and exhaustion pulled at my mind. My magic was shot.
Better get to it, then. I studied the wall, looking for our best path out. Same as the way in, it looked like. I pointed up. “We’ll go up that way.”
He swallowed hard, then nodded.
I looked back at Doyen, who stood, watching us. I glanced at Kevin. “How did they capture you?”
I wanted to know how evil they really were. Would they try to stop us from climbing out?
“I was at work. At the bank.” He rubbed a hand over his face.
Bingo on the bank.
“One minute I was in the back, putting some papers away in the office, and the next, I was here. They must have made me sleep, or something.”
“Hmmm.” That wasn’t too brutal, at least. I used the very last of my magic to conjure another pair of gloves and handed them to Kevin. “Put these on. The rock is sharp.”
He tugged them on.
I gave Doyen a last glare, then turned to the rock wall. “Let’s go. I’ll lead the way—you put your feet where I put mine.”
“All right.” His voice barely wavered.
I had to give it to the guy—he might look skinny and frail, but he was tough. One minute he’s a banker, the next he’s climbing out of a volcano.
I began to climb, focusing all my energy on picking the perfect foothold. It was rough going, and my feet slipped out from under me a few times.
“How you holding up?” I called over my shoulder.
“I—I—” Kevin was so out of breath he couldn’t talk.
“Just keep climbing.” I grabbed a little ledge and pulled myself up, muscles trembling like a bowl of wobbly jello.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of one of the Pūķis, swooping through the air. They were keeping their eye on us, I liked to imagine.
My muscles screamed as I climbed, weakening with every foot I ascended. Behind me, Kevin was breathing so heavily I thought he might have a heart attack.
And we were still only halfway there.
My foot slipped and my weig
ht dragged me down. Kevin shouted. I clung to the rock, on such a steep slope that I’d slide all the way down if I lost my footing.
“Help!” Kevin’s voice sounded from behind me.
I glanced down.
He clung to the rock, same as me. My fall must have startled him, triggering his own. I tried to pull myself up, my feet scrambling for purchase.
But I was too weak—from the conjuring, the injuries, the heat. I was a car with no gas in the middle of the desert.
Chills raced over my skin.
“Kevin!” I gasped. “You can do this.”
“I can’t!” he cried.
The desperation in his voice mirrored what was in my heart.
We were screwed.
I strained, pulling myself up only inches as my heart thundered in my chest and my stomach hollowed out in fear.
Help!
But I didn’t know who I was calling to.
A Pūķi flashed by me, then something warm pressed against my butt and legs, pushing me upward. I glanced back.
The Pūķi was giving me a boost! And the other was helping Kevin. I prayed they didn’t breathe fire on poor Kevin. But they were our only shot.
I pulled, giving it the last of my strength, scrambling onto a slightly better bit of rock.
“Thank you!” I gasped. The Pūķi couldn’t fly me up, but he was strong enough for a push.
Kevin clung to a little ledge below me. I met his wide gaze. “We can do this. The Pūķis will help us.”
He nodded, his head bobbing. There was determination in his gaze. And hope. With dragons on our side—even small ones like the Pūķi—we really had a chance.
We continued our scrambling climb up the mountain, the Pūķi helping to push us up, and the reality of my situation hit me. I almost laughed. I was climbing out of a volcano—one filled with lava, no less—with a Latvian dragon spirit pushing me by the rear.
Every inch of my body sang with pain, but I kept going, the Pūķi’s spirit giving me strength as much as his pushing.
By the time I scrambled out onto the rim of the volcano, I was dripping sweat and trembling like a dog in a thunderstorm.
Kevin flopped up beside me. A quick glance showed that he was in no better shape, his hair matted with sweat and his eyes wide.
“Sorry about this, Kev,” I said. “They wouldn’t have captured you if not for me.”
