Refusing to give an inch, the woman dug her heels into the earth, dragging them both out of the scalding cement. She tightened her grip, kneed Alex in the back, and hauled her further into the shadows.
Alex’s heart raced, her body on fire, knowing the only way she would survive was to embrace the heat. She concentrated all her thoughts on her attacker, stirring the flames under her skin, directing her rage and pain at the woman trying to kill her.
The world exploded around them. A car detonated, throwing out twisted pieces of steel. Shards of glass and metal pierced her opponent.
Falling forward, the woman screamed as a pipe impaled her gut. As chaos rained down, Alex pulled Goth over her torso, shielding herself from the worst of the debris.
Fire and molten metal pelted them and cut into their flesh. Beneath Alex’s back, metal bubbled, turning to lava. Later she would question why it didn’t burn her the way it did her adversary. When the shower stopped, she rolled them over. Alex spared a moment to compare her soft pink flesh to the woman who lay in the dirt covered in angry burns and cuts—her flesh melted to the bone in some spots. Goth chick writhed in agony, moaning incoherent nonsense, trying to dislodge the pipe from her stomach.
Alex leaned in and placed her good hand around the wound to try and stop the bleeding. “It’s okay, I’ll call for an ambulance.”
She shouldn’t have let her guard down. With supernatural speed Goth reached out, grabbed Alex’s neck and twisted.
Alex tore at the hands, struggling to breathe. Exhausted, her energy used up, it was too much for her. As Alex began convulsing, she pictured her aunt’s face. In the last seconds before losing consciousness, something inside her shifted. Something dark. On her final breath, over and over in her mind, she chanted the word Rise. Over and over. Rise.
Instinctively, Alex knew the fire inside her wouldn’t let her die. She felt it clawing its way out, and for the first time she embraced it . . . gave it control. As unconsciousness inched its way forward, the fire finally broke free.
When her killer burst into flames, Alex smiled as she succumbed to the darkness at the edge of her mind.
~ ~ ~
“Come on. Wake up. Get in the car,” Quinn yelled in her ear.
Alex shot up with a start, slapping at her flesh, trying to put out a fire that was no longer there. Ignoring her aunt, she glanced wildly around, searching for her would-be-killer, knowing she’d find nothing.
All the while Quinn pushed at her. She let herself be hauled along in a daze until Quinn slapped her face and yelled something about moving her ass.
“Quinn?” She stumbled over her words as her aunt dragged her through the chalky earth. “Some lunatic tried to kill me. Where is she? How did you get here?”
“We don’t have time for that right now. Move! Get in the car.”
“I think I killed her.” Alex cradled her face in her hands. “Oh my God, something is really wrong with me.”
Quinn pulled her hands away from her face and continued to force her toward the car. “Nothing is wrong with you.”
Allowing herself to be dragged along, Alex looked around her, confused. There was no body, only black earth covered in cement dust and shards of glass. “I don’t understand.”
“We can’t be out in the open like this. You’re in shock. We’ll talk at home.” Quinn pushed her into the car and slammed the door before climbing in the other side of her vehicle and starting the engine.
“How did you get here?”
“Alex, we’ll talk at home. Please, honey, I need to focus.” She cupped Alex’s cheek and sighed before calmly saying, “Now shut up.”
The drive was frenetic and quicker than it should have been. Quinn checked the rear-view mirror every five seconds, the entire way. What seemed like only minutes later, they pulled into the driveway of a modest rancher hanging over the Georgia Straight between Vancouver and Victoria. Quinn jumped out of the vehicle and dragged Alex across the lawn, through the front door. She slammed it behind them and turned the deadbolt.
Quinn hadn’t said a word since they’d left the parking lot, but she turned to her now. “Alex, we have a lot to do and not a lot of time.” Quinn grabbed her shoulders. “I need you to go upstairs and take a shower.
Alex felt the burning of the tattoo against her foot and wondered if she was losing her mind. Like a child, she nodded to her aunt and turned to climb the stairs to her bathroom. Still in a daze, she reached the top of the stairs and noticed her reflection in the hallway mirror. Her hair was matted as usual, but now the ends were charred black. Her face was covered in soot, and she had a bruise on her left cheek from where the woman had smashed her face into the ground. She’d won though—in the end the fire saved her. She liked it. Her body wanted more. Tears filled her eyes and she turned from her image. That wasn’t her.
Closing the bathroom door behind her, she stripped out of her sweats and leaned half naked against the wall. She straightened her shoulders and flexed her hands to physically brace herself before looking at her foot.
There it was. Alex slumped to the floor and bent over to inspect the mark. It looked like a tattoo. Small bumps and ridges against her skin made the design appear freshly inked. The flesh around the mark, slightly pink and tender, the color of the flame an intriguing hue of pale lilacs, red and tangerine. Oddly, she noticed the lilac matched the color of the bathroom wall. She lifted her foot to her face. Her toenails were black and the bottom of her foot was covered in blisters. I killed someone.
Wrapped in her towel, sitting on the floor, Alex twirled her hair around her fingers. Maybe if I could get the tangles out and cut off the ends . . . I killed someone.
She wanted her Mom. Much of her childhood was a blur, but her parents had always been there. They’d been open with her about the adoption. Alex hadn’t cared who her birth parents were. She figured if they didn’t want her, she didn’t want them. The night of her eighteenth birthday her parents were murdered. Robbed at gunpoint in a back alley and left for dead. Their killer had never been caught.
Fire had been part of her life ever since.
It wasn’t like she’d tried to be different; she just was. At five foot ten inches, with a tidal wave of flaming red hair, a shit kicker boot collection, and a huge attitude, she was definitely not in line for homecoming queen. Before her parents’ deaths, they’d told her to always be herself. Afterward, she didn’t know who “herself” was anymore.
The dreams and voices started once she moved away from the family home. Her shrink called them grief voices. She never told him she sometimes talked back.
Fifteen minutes later, Quinn found her in the bathroom crying.
As she opened the door, Alex looked up from her spot on the floor and said, “I killed her and I think I’m okay with it, Quinn. I had so much power running through me. You have to tell me what’s going on. No more half answers and no more stalling.”
Quinn reached down and held her close. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry. We should’ve had this conversation a long time ago. I shouldn’t have waited, but I was hoping, well . . . it doesn’t matter now does it?”
Quinn visibly forced herself to relax, helped Alex stand, and wiped the tear-streaked soot off her face. "Please have a shower. You won’t get another chance for a while. I'll be downstairs making tea and we’ll talk. I promise."
After Quinn walked out, Alex pulled herself together. She went through the motions of her shower; quickly washed her hair, ignored the burned spiky edges.
Alex ran her hands over the bumps of the tattoo on her toe before rinsing off and stepping out of the shower. Grabbing a towel off the rack, she dried quickly, and rammed fingers through knotted hair. With a last tentative look at the tattoo on her foot, she smashed her feet into slippers that had seen better days, pulled on her favorite yellow housecoat, and headed to the kitchen.
/> Chapter 2
Collum woke up with a headache. Too much fighting and Diplomatico rum the night before hadn't done him any favors. He swung his six-foot six-inch, two-hundred and fifty-pound frame to the edge of the bed, and pushed his hands through inky hair before massaging his temples. He was big enough and dangerous enough that he was generally left alone. Which made his line of work a little easier . . .
He walked to the window and closed the blinds. His condo was on the top floor of a building that overlooked Stanley Park and the Pacific Ocean. A view most people would kill to have. Collum didn't give a shit.
Pulling on his track pants, he turned to study his reflection in the full-length mirror. Eyes a mix of shadow and steel stared back at him. Eyes that looked tired and cynical. His muscled arms were covered in tattoos that told the story of a time forgotten. A time that had shaped mankind. He worked hard saving the world from shit on a daily basis, with no thanks. He’d stopped looking for thanks a long time ago. His father made sure of that.
He did his job and looked after his people. That was enough. Just because he’d managed to cheat the reaper for a while didn't mean shit. He could meet his match today as quick as the next.
Being a guardian wasn't for the faint of heart. As the leader, Collum spent less time getting his hands dirty than in the past. He was still what he was, though, and if you asked around you'd hear you didn't want to mess with him. Collum took orders from no one and very few people ever risked pissing him off. He only had one real friend. In his position, he couldn't afford to like too many people. It was easier to remain solitary. Dragons didn't make good friends.
That didn't mean he didn't like pleasure. Two thousand years of sex makes you pretty good at it, and Collum liked being good. He liked watching the ladies faces when he hit their buttons just right. He liked hearing their screams of pleasure in place of the screams of death that usually followed him. Collum loved soft skin and waves of silky hair, and tiny toes that curled when he brought them to orgasm. Sometimes, a night with a woman was the only thing that reminded him of why he chose to protect this world.
The knock on his bedroom door was quickly replaced by Glenn walking in with the paper. “It’s about time you woke up. It’s almost noon.”
“I don’t recall asking you to be my father—only my housekeeper.”
“Yes, well, when you killed him, I decided to take on the role. So, I guess you’re stuck with my paternal instincts, like it or not.”
The two men glowered at each other for a minute before Collum backed down. “You were more of a father to me than he ever was.”
“Precisely why I agreed with you that he had to die.”
Collum turned his back on the man and grabbed a gray T-shirt out of the dresser in the corner of the room. He didn’t want to think about that right now. “You have any coffee?”
“You’re going to have to talk about it at some point you know.”
“Why? She’ll still be dead, won’t she? The bastard still lived longer than he should have.” He stared hard at the old man in front of him. “Coffee?”
Glenn stiffened slightly before masking his face with an air of indifference. “Of course. It’s probably cold by now. I’ll make a new batch.”
As he walked out of the room, Collum frowned but didn’t call him back or apologize. He wasn’t a child, and didn’t need to talk about what happened. It had been twenty-five years and he’d done what needed to be done. He always did what needed to be done.
Collum was halfway down the glass stairs of his condo for that cup of black coffee when his cell rang. Addicted to knowledge, he had played a large, if silent role in the advancements of many technologies humans took for granted. His iPhone was never out of his reach.
“Yep. What?”
“Hello, is this Collum Thronus?”
“How did you get this number?” was his terse reply.
“This is Quinn Taleisin. I'm Kaylen's daughter. Her granddaughter was attacked today right after the mysterious appearance of a flame tattoo on her foot. We need your help.”
Collum sat on the stairs, the coffee and Glenn forgotten, and let his head drop. “Tell me where you are. I'm on my way.”
Chapter 3
Alex found her aunt in their kitchen. Sunlight poured in through the big bay windows. The room was comfortable but not cluttered. It had cream walls and blond oak cupboards, and a dolphin cookie jar. Her aunt stood at the butcher-block island pouring them apple spice tea. When Alex entered the room, Quinn gestured for her to take a seat at the little white table in the corner. As Alex sat, Quinn placed chipped mugs on a paisley hot pad before sitting herself.
“I knew we would have to have this conversation eventually. We probably should have before now, but I guess I was weak and hoping to spare you for as long as possible.”
“Aunt Quinn, I was attacked by something not-quite-human this morning. I think I killed that not-quite-human thing, and I’m pretty sure I melted the YMCA parking lot so forgive me for being rude here, but can you tell me what you think is going on.”
“Very well, I’ll get straight to it then. I’m asking you to believe in me, Alex, and to remember that I love you.” She rushed on. “Your family, our family is . . . complicated.” Quinn sighed and rested her heavy arms on the table, her tea forgotten. “It took me twenty years to locate you, Alex, because someone much more powerful than I am, made sure you disappeared. You were never supposed to be found.”
Alex studied the room, aware of how quiet everything had become; like the house itself held its breath. “What are you talking about?”
“You are special Alex, more special than any of us. As it turns out that was too risky.
“You aren’t making sense. Who are us?”
Quinn talked over her niece. “Your birth mother was special too. She'd always been advanced. Her skills were stronger than most of us. Father loved that about her. She could control her element almost from birth. That's unheard of among our people. Eventually, she became one of the strongest of us.”
Alex trembled—lifted her tea with shaking fingers and held the cup against her mouth as she waited for Quinn to finish.
“I was never a warrior, but I've worked hard to keep the balance. As a record keeper, I protected the world in my own way. By keeping this secret. By protecting you . . . I've done what I could to protect our family. Our family is always first. Remember that over the next weeks and months. Family—this family—comes first.”
Alex grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself. She considered her aunt’s eyes. “You're starting to scare me.”
Quinn clutched her arms across her stomach. “Now that your tattoo has appeared you are a secret that can only be kept for a little longer. You are the daughter of one of the strongest Elemental to ever exist, Alex . . . and . . . you are something a little bit more.”
Alex snorted; a crazy sound that echoed off the walls of the kitchen. “Good one, Aunt Quinn. You had me freaking out there for a minute. I have no idea what an Elemental is, but I think you've been reading too many fairy-tales.”
“First,” Quinn said. “I never tell stories. I deal with facts and truths. Even in the mystical world, there is fact and truth. Second, there isn't a lot of time for you to get on board with this. If others are already sensing you, then we can be assured the elders will hear about it soon. We need to move you. You'll have to absorb it as you go.”
“Others sensing me? What others?”
“The woman in the gym this morning was really bad luck on our part. Non-humans can sense each other all around. I should have thought about that, but I hadn’t counted on you transitioning so quickly.”
“This is insane. I can't believe we're even having this conversation.”
Quinn poured more tea before saying, “Alex, think about this logically.
Think about your episodes, and how your dreams strangely seem to predict things. The tattoos appearing on your skin. The way odd things happen to you. And how fire bends to you.”
At the mention of fire, Alex tugged at her housecoat collar.
“All Elemental have an ability to control an element. Yours is fire. My element is wind. Water was your mother’s.” Quinn quickly added, “It's normal Alex. At least, it’s normal for us.”
“Are you seriously telling me that all these years you’ve known why fire takes over my body? Every time I’ve had an episode you’ve known exactly why. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“I thought I was protecting you. That’s my only excuse.” Quinn wrung her hands. “I don’t know who your father is. I don’t know what else you can do. Your grandmother told me about you on her deathbed and made me swear to protect you and keep you a secret as long as I could.”
“Jesus, Quinn, this is fucking nuts.”
“Believe me I know. But it’s true. I swear it on my life. Hell, right now I swear it on your life. Because your life is in danger.”
“And that freak this morning?”
“That was a raider. They steal powers from other immortals. Thankfully, your element kicked in and somehow you were able to control your fire enough to save your own ass. Because of our family connection, I knew immediately once you tapped into your full element. That’s how I found you. But that also means others will sense an element awakening.”
Alex slammed her cup on the table. “This is bullshit. You want me to take you at your word when you still haven't explained exactly what an Elemental is. And what the hell do you even mean by—I’m a little bit more?”
Quinn stood, stretched out her hand and the two blankets off the living room couch flew into her hands. “You looked cold, dear. Wrap up in these so you don't go into shock.”
Fire Born (The Guardian Series Book 1) Page 2
