“Why not?”
Because, I thought, the condemned aren’t worthy. “Few lyrriken are chosen for the honor. And it’s performed in secret. So if there’s a soul freezer, I’ve never seen it. But I’ve also never seen a balaur until this week, so…” His brow lifted, waiting for me to go on, but I didn’t feel like trying to explain Coen. “To most of my kind, reincarnation is a belief, a legend. Elders claim it as a proven fact. Maybe that is how they live so long. I don’t know. We have myths and fairytales on Drimera, same as here.”
“But most human fairytales have at least a kernel of truth, some real person or event, the story grew from. Every modern day urban legends come from something.”
“They come from us, Casey. Most of the stories you know have been spun by the Guild. They’ve been stretched and fabricated, and twisted around, until that ‘kernel’ you’re looking for, is barely recognizable.”
“I don’t get it. If these creatures of legend actually existed, why cover it up? We’re not children.”
“To the elders you are. You’re children who will rush blindly into the unknown, trampling and destroying without even realizing what you’re stepping on.”
Evans blew out a weary breath. “How much haven’t you told me?”
“A lot. But if you keep bringing me cheeseburgers, I’ll keep talking.”
He chuckled, and the tension eased on his face. “It’s a deal.” Even if his head was spinning, Evans’s quick adjustment to the weird was reassuring. It made me want to tell him more, why I left home, what I could do. But there were other conversations I wasn’t looking forward to. Like the years I spent killing for the Guild.
I glanced at the door. “Where’s Creed? I thought he’d be back by now.”
“I just saw him. He was headed out.”
“Where to?”
“The museum downtown. He’s been trying to identify the stone in that necklace. Guess someone finally called him back.”
“Damn. I was going to direct him to one of us.”
“You mean you were going to have someone lie to him, to cover up the truth about the stone?”
“I have to, Casey. It’s my job.”
“But that necklace belonged to Ella. We have pictures of her wearing it.”
“It might have belonged to a human, but it wasn’t crafted on Drimera. And it’s not a stone.” I crumpled up my garbage as I stood.
“Wait. I’m supposed to take you home.”
“Not until I stop Creed from making that meeting.”
“You better hurry, then. When I was pulling in, I saw some asshole hit his car. Backed right into it. If you’re lucky, he’s still there, filling out the report.”
“Is he okay?”
“I think so. Not so sure about the other guy, though. Not with the look on Creed’s face when he got out of the car.”
“Where?”
“Parking garage. Top floor. Want me to—”
I was already out the door.
I glanced in the direction of the stairwell, but the elevator was closer. The doors were open. People were emptying out. I scooted by them and pushed the button for the top floor. Evans dashed in between the doors before they closed.
I made a face at him. “It’s the parking lot.”
“It’s the parking lot you’re not going to without your bodyguard.” He crossed his arms and stood his ground with a defiant smile.
“Police Officer, bodyguard, sidekick, delivery boy… Sounds like you’re having quite an identity crisis, Evans. You should see someone about that.”
“So some crazy lyrriken fire-bug can burn me in half for spilling state secrets? No thank you.” He glanced at the floor. “How do you handle it? All the lies?”
“Lately, not very well.”
The elevator stopped. Through the slowly widening crack of the doors, I caught a peek at the garage. The air was smoky. Cars were askew. Two figures moved inside the haze, trading punches. I caught a glimpse of a man, definitely Creed, pounding on a much smaller, female opponent. He pushed her against a support column. She ducked. Creed’s fist hit the stone. He withdrew, and she went after him.
The abrupt roar of an engine resonated through the cavernous garage, as a dark two-wheeled form moved in to block my view. It shot through the cloud and headed right for us.
Evans shoved me to the side as the motorcycle collided with the elevator doors, caving in their edges with a burst of fire and a scream of metal. Sparks flew from the panel on the wall. Cradled between the partially-open, battered steel doors was the front half of the motorcycle. Its flaming tire spun ferociously, inches from Evans’s head.
I shifted my upper body. Grabbing him and trading places, I pushed Evans flat against the wall. As the smoke poured in, I reached my scaled hands through the flickering tongues. Seizing the blazing wheel, with a scream of effort and pain, I stopped its rotation. Letting a bit of my own fire out through my palms, it joined with the existing flames, and I pulled them both, as one, down into my hands.
Panting, I stumbled back, feeling like I’d just gorged myself on an extra-large bucket of lava. Absorbing small amounts of extraneous fire was something my body could do, but not something it enjoyed. Neither did it like the noxious fumes filling the small space. Evans was leaning against the wall for support. In seconds he’d gone from coughing to wheezing through every breath.
I wrinkled my nose at the harsh smell and dropped down, peering out beneath the motorcycle. My view was limited. I caught glimpses of Detective Creed struggling to keep up with her swift moves. I grinned in surprise when he managed to grab hold, lift her, and throw her into the windshield of a car. It was impressive. But if she wanted it over, it would be. With one shot of fire or water, he was dead.
He won’t be the only one if this goes on much longer. Once the noise and smoke caught someone’s attention, it would be more than Creed’s life on the line.
The fight moved out of view. I shifted position, but I couldn’t see them anymore.
Doubled over, Evans wheezed out his words. “We have to help him. Creed can’t survive against the two of them.”
I jumped up. “Two?”
“I saw—” a racking cough interrupted his words. “—for just a second, he was…” Evans drew a gasping breath. “Reech was on the back of the motorcycle. He let it loose.”
“We need to get these doors open. Now.”
Twenty-Six
I could have done it on my own, but Evans felt the need to act as much as I did. So, as he took one side, I ducked under the wheel and took the other. Evans steadied the bike to keep it falling on our feet. I planted mine, bore down, and shoved the doors apart.
We both jumped back as the bike fell. I hopped over it and out into the garage. It was quiet. Creed’s gun was on the ground, but no one was in sight. The last of the smoke was drifting out the gaps in the walls. At least a dozen cars were dented with windows cracked and hoods smashed. Hearing Evans curse, I assumed his was among them.
Blood splatter and scorch marks darkened the cement. Remembering I was in a public place in the light of day, I stowed my scales and followed the trail.
I found him at the end of the next row, lying face down beside a car that looked more like an accordion than an SUV. As I rolled him over, he stirred awake. Creed’s face and knuckles were cut, bruised, and swollen. What worried me was the large bloody gash in the side of his head.
I called Evans over. “Stay with him. I’m going to see if they’re still here.”
“Don’t bother.” Creed groaned as he tried to sit up. “They’re gone. They got what they came for. The necklace,” he said, his words slurring slightly. “She took it.”
I helped him lean against the smashed car behind him. “Is there anyone else here? Anyone injured?”
“I don’t think so. But you better check the guard at the gate.” Creed lifted a weak arm and pointed at the corner behind me. “They fried the security cameras. I can only imagine what they did to him.”
Creed started to stand. I was going to protest, but he figured it out on his own and slumped back against the car. He looked at me, blinking, like his vision wasn’t right.
“What happened?” I asked.
“She’s fucking fast. That’s what happened.”
“Did she say anything?”
The blood streaking his head turned his glare menacing. “In between punching me?”
“Clearly she’s trained—”
“So am I!” He winced; the shout hurting his head. Quieter, he said, “She mumbled something about the necklace, about not understanding how the king could give such a gift to his lesser child. Told you that damn thing was worth something.”
Child? Was Ella a lyrriken? No. I would have smelled it on her.
“Her partner was here,” he said. “The bastard didn’t engage, but I saw him. He had some kind of weapon, or specialized flamed thrower. It was small. Must be high-tech. It seemed to come right out of his damn hand.”
“His hand?” I gave him a dubious squint. “You need to get checked out.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted.
“You got your skull caved in, Detective. You’re not fine,” I said, mimicking his sarcasm-laden response after my scuffle at the hospital. From his focused squint, Creed didn’t like being on the receiving end. “The ambulance will be here soon. In the meantime, can you tell me where you are?”
His squint turned mean. “Seriously?”
“That bump on your head is the size of my ass. So, yeah, I’m serious. Where are you?”
“The floor of the garage,” he grumbled. “Leaning against a heap of metal that used to be Detective Stanton’s new car.” A snarky grin tugged on his swollen lips. “Maybe now he’ll finally shut up and stop bragging about it.”
“Your name?”
“Alex.”
“Your real name. The nameplate on your desk says it starts with an ‘L’?”
“Alex is my middle name. I don’t go by the other.”
“The other? Oh…” I giggled, teasing him, “it must be bad. Now I have to know.”
Creed sighed. “Lanse.”
I tried not to smile. “Like Lancelot?”
“No. Like Lansing, with an ‘s’”
“Lansing? Damn your parents must have had one hell of a sense of humor.”
“It’s a small town in the Midwest.”
“Never heard of it.” I glanced at the stairwell door, waiting for it to open. Blood was draining steadily from his head. If he was unconscious I would have cauterized it by now. I settled for pressing my hand against the wound. I heated my skin slightly, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“Dammit, Nite…” He grabbed my arm and pulled it away. “What are you doing?”
“It’s called first aid.” Ripping out of his grip, I put my hand back where it was and he suffered it with a grimace. “Don’t be a pussy. Lansing,” I threw in.
He scowled at me. “How about I stop being a pussy if you stop playing doctor?”
I countered with a sweet smile. “Too late.”
“Unbelievable,” he groaned. “Do you always do whatever the hell you want?”
“As often as I can.”
Amused, despite himself, he grunted. His glare eased and he fell quiet.
Sirens were in the distance, but they were still a minute or two out.
“So why Lansing?” I said.
“My mother was born there. Guess she liked it.”
“Ever visit? It seems mandatory if you’re named after a place.”
“I’ve been a few times. She moved back after my dad passed away. She wanted me to join her when Scott…died,” he said, as if reluctant to speak the word. “But it didn’t seem right to be that far away.”
“I understand.” I took my hand off his wound. “There. The bleeding has slowed. Looks like I’m good at playing doctor after all.”
Creed grimaced through a strained chuckle. It waned as he admitted, “I thought she was going to kill me. She could have. For a minute there, before you found me, I was out cold.” Creed stared down at his battered knuckles. “Why burn all those people and leave me alive?”
“Because she’s still playing. Did the man say anything before he left?”
“She had the necklace. He told her to keep it safe. It sounded like they had a plan to meet up later.” Abruptly, Creed’s bleary gaze lifted. “Shit. I almost forgot…”
The siren blare turned deafening, cutting him off as the ambulance reached our level. At the same time, a crowd of police, both in and out of uniform, rushed around the corner and fanned out to fill the garage. The ambulance stopped. As the siren cut off, a firetruck wailed, heading our way.
Two men in paramedic uniforms exited the ambulance. I moved back to give them room, and Creed stopped me. “Dahlia, wait.”
His informality surprised me. “What is it?”
“The man, before he left, he called our girl by name.”
“Why would he do that?”
“He acted like it didn’t matter. But she was pissed.”
“I bet. What name did he use?”
The paramedics rushed in. One bent down, examining Creed’s head. Pulling away, looking around the man’s shoulder, Creed caught my eyes. “Brynne. He called her Brynne.”
My heart lurched. It can’t be.
“It’s an unusual name,” he said. “Is it familiar?”
I thought of our killer’s size, the color of her scales; her hair and eyes. They weren’t an exact match. But they could have lightened. It was a long time ago.
And she was so young.
In the hospital, and in the empty lot, she’d shushed me—like I shushed her, ninety-seven years ago when I left her perched in a tree in the forest of Drimera; my little lyrriken apprentice.
“Is it familiar?” he said again. “Do you know who she is? Why she’s doing this?”
The name had left his lips with utter certainty, but I had to ask again. “Are you sure that’s what he called her?”
The paramedic threw me a harsh glance. “You need to do this later.”
I nodded and backed away. As I turned around, I nearly ran into Captain Barnes. Struggling to focus, I missed half his words as he went on about our suspects assaulting one of his men and ‘walking the fuck back out, happier than a twister in a trailer park.’
“Use whatever resources you have to, Nite. Do whatever you have to,” he said. “Put together a new team, an army, I don’t care. Just get these fire-lovin’ bastards off my streets.”
The sweat rising on my skin, I replied. Barnes walked away, but I had no idea what I’d said to him. I only knew that I had to leave. The walls were closing in, the ceiling creeping down. The noises echoing through the garage rang in my ears. Eyes followed me, staring, judging my odd expression and swift departure. They wondered if I was a threat. They were. Their bodies were consuming the space, the air, using it and leaving me none. And all I could think as I moved, breathless through the garage, avoiding everyone as I jogged down the ramp, wanting out, was: Why?
Why would she do this? Why would Brynne come after me?
What had I done to make her kill them?
Officers were sweeping the garage. Cars were still coming in with lights flashing. The first level exit was mobbed. The crowd was growing fast. The entire area was cordoned off. No one was getting into the garage. The few that were allowed out were being questioned.
I couldn’t let them detain me. I needed silence and room.
I needed to understand.
Thankfully, the man checking IDs recognized me. I flashed the consultant badge Barnes had given me, and I was let through with a sharp once-over and a grim nod. As I moved through the crowd, I caught snippets of muted conversations about the assault. I heard an officer say Creed had let his guard down. He’d been too distracte
d by some wild theory to see the threat in front of him. Another was supportive and angry that Creed’s assailants had gotten away. My partner’s reputation with his peers was rocky. I knew I should defend him, but I couldn’t. Not right now.
Moving swiftly, I glanced in the direction of the outdoor lot. My jeep was there, but my mind was a whirling mess of anxiety, and my head was pounding harder with each go around. Driving wasn’t a good idea.
Avoiding eye contact, I watched the traffic and the crowd out of necessity only, as I crossed the street and went up the block. Afternoon sun glared down through hazy clouds. Grinding brakes from the garbage truck pulling up at the curb grated on my nerves. I turned away from the hot stink drifting out the back and entered a tree-lined residential area. The crush of noise dropped off shortly after. The sidewalks emptied out. The solitude, the soft overhang of branches—the distance I’d gained from the sound of her name—made everything hurt less. My thoughts churned slower and I sent them back to that night. I pictured Brynne as I’d last seen her, hiding in the trees in her lyrriken form. She’d been so little and kind. Too kind for the Guild.
I remembered thinking that when she was assigned to me. Thinking how I’d have to break her or she’d never survive. Such treatment was necessary with the less aggressive apprentices. It was how we weeded them out.
Despite her size, though, Brynne’s resilience carried her through the first stage. I’d been surprised, but not particularly impressed. The only remarkable behavior she’d displayed was to follow me from the city the night of my escape. It had taken more courage than I’d given her credit for. I knew that now. Then, I’d seen it as a weakness, a fear of change.
I knew our squad would fall apart. Running from my execution had brought shame to the Guild. Shame I knew would transfer to them. I was their leader, after all. But I left anyway.
Brynne had been a part of my dreams for over ninety years, yet I’d given her presence there no more attention than the trees or the moons. She’d meant that little to me. And now she was here, murdering strangers in my name, working her way up to killing people I knew and cared for, all in an attempt to hurt me. Why? Why hadn’t she forgotten me, as I forgot her?
Nite Fire: Flash Point Page 27
