by LJ Rivers
As Nick and Oliver ran through the empty hall towards a double door at the end, I dropped to all fours and crawled back towards the doorway behind us. I peeked through, and almost gasped at the sight. At the top of the stairs, where the three of us had stood not more than thirty seconds earlier, Mordred turned towards me. Hoping beyond hope that my instincts were right, that my powers increased every second now that the human blood no longer had a hold on them, I called upon the fire inside.
Mordred reached out his left arm, and the screeching sound of metal being bent penetrated my ears. From the corner of my eye, I could see the top bars on the guardrail curl like spaghetti. I had one chance, and one chance only.
My magic surged through my body so hard that I almost lifted off the floor and, with all my strength, I flung a giant fireball towards Mordred. The room was bathed in crimson from the rotating lights, but when my fire released from my hands, the heat was so intense it shattered them all. My head was spinning with emotion, the ecstatic joy of having my powers flow through me balancing against the anger towards the monsters who had captured me—and the other victims. As the flames died down, the room fell dark red again, dimly lit by glowing crimson lines along the walls.
Mordred had managed to rip one of the guardrails free and flung it towards me at lightning speed. Before it could reach me, however, the fire melted it. I ducked to avoid the melted steel, but all that was left was a scorched cloud of vapour rising to the ceiling.
I looked at the chaos I had caused. The gangway we had run across was gone. I tried to recall if any of the cages had been close, but was almost certain they were all further back.
Oh, Lady of Avalon, don’t let any of the Mags have fallen victim to my fire!
The inferno I had released hadn’t just melted the steel gangway and guardrails, so much as totally evaporated it. Tiny, glowing red drops fell from the remaining structure and onto the floor below.
Of Mordred, there was nothing left.
My thoughts were soon interrupted by gunshots behind me.
I spun around, leapt to my feet, and sprinted towards the double doors. If Nick had been shot, I would never forgive myself.
A bullet pierced the door frame next to my head, splinters of wood flying before my eyes. The doors led to a corridor, and about twenty yards ahead, a terrible sight met me. Nick and Oliver lay splayed on the floor.
Bullets kept whizzing through the corridor from the other end, past the boys, barrelling into the walls and ceiling. I threw a force field down the corridor, pulling it outwards to block the shooting guards from my friends on the floor. There were two sentries, and now they had stepped into the corridor, guns raised. Their bullets bounced off the force field.
How long could I maintain it? I had already spent a lot of my magical energy on Mordred. I reached Nick and Oliver, who were still on the floor, shielding themselves with their hands.
“Are you ok?” I shouted over roaring blasts of gunshots.
“I—I think so,” Nick replied. “Although that’s a creative use of the term ok.”
A bullet zinged past me, burying itself in the wall at the end of the corridor. I was losing control of the force field. How could we get out of here, trapped between the shooters and what I assumed were more sentries coming from behind us any moment? They would be slowed down by the wrecked gangway, but I didn’t want to wait to find out how much.
The guard on the left made the decision for me when he turned his gun at his colleague. He pulled the trigger, and I threw my hands in front of my face a fraction of a second too late. The image of the guard’s head exploding, leaving a gaping hole where his forehead should be, was forever imprinted on my brain. What on earth had made the other guard shoot him?
I looked at Oliver; his arm was outstretched, his lips curved up. What had convinced the guard was not of this Earth at all. Oliver had made him turn on his colleague, using his mind control. Now, he tilted his head ever so slightly to the left, a grin drawing wide on his face.
“Had to try, as I don’t think that shield of yours is of any use no more.”
He was right. It was no bigger than half the width of the corridor.
I looked at the remaining guard. His colleague had slumped to the floor. The last one standing stared at Oliver with desperation and terror in his eyes. His face twisted into a frightening grimace as he realised what I had concluded seconds earlier.
“Don’t!” I screamed. “Please, Oliver!”
The guard clearly tried to fight it as his hand turned towards his head. His eyes shifted from Oliver to the gun. I couldn’t let this happen.
A loud crack echoed through the corridor when a bright flash erupted from the muzzle. It spread like fireworks on New Year’s Eve onto the force field I had thrown at the guard’s head, pulling my last bit of magic out of me. A sizzling noise followed as the bullet ricocheted off the field, and hit the ceiling above him. Dust and debris landed atop the nearly invisible globe.
Nick reacted in an instant, running towards the guard with his steel rod raised. “Let go of the field, Ruby!” he shouted.
I did as he told me. Not so much because I wanted to, but because my powers had drained my energy a lot.
Nick struck the guard on his knees, and he fell like a bad guy in a Jason Statham flick. In one quick motion, Nick had pried the gun from his hands, and pointed it at the guard, underlining the Statham image. I’d have to tell him later, I thought, as I sprinted towards them.
“We can’t leave him alive,” Oliver said.
“Don’t worry,” Nick said. “He won’t be a problem.” He swung the steel bar at the poor sod’s head, and the impact made a sickening crunch.
“Oops. I tried not to kill him,” Nick said, looking at the bloody gash at the back of the guard’s head.
I crouched, feeling with my fingers for a pulse. I sent a tiny amount of healing into the man, not sure how much, if anything, I had left in me. Maybe it would keep him alive, but not revive him. “He’ll be fine,” I said.
“This is where they brought me inside.” Oliver pointed at a side door. “Let’s split.”
I got my first hint at the time of day when we opened the door. The time of night, at least. It was freezing and above us, the stars and a quarter slice of the moon threw an eerie light from the clear sky. We cleared the three or four steps down to the ground and sprinted towards the silhouettes of trees across the field.
My mind was fixed on reaching the woods, but also on turning back to save the rest of the caged Magicals.
What little light the moon and the stars provided helped us find the treeline. We couldn’t risk running any further, however, as crashing into a trunk would be devastating.
“Stop,” I whispered as loud as I could without actually shouting.
We had come at least fifty yards into the woods, and when I turned to look, the farm and buildings were lost in the dark.
“We need to think,” I said, as the boys came towards me. “Also, we need to gather more power.”
“We have no chance alone, Ruby,” Oliver said. “I mean, that fire thing you do is great and all, but it’s clear your batteries are almost out of juice. We need to phone for help.”
“How?” I said. “They took my phone, and I’m guessing you’re not exactly stocked like an Apple Store yourself?”
“No,” he said. “They rook mine ash—”
Something was wrong. “Oliver?” I reached out to grab his arm.
“I thing I’m hurr—” he slurred, his eyes rolling back in their sockets. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground, dragging me down with him.
“He’s hit.” Nick dropped to his knees next to Oliver. “Look.” He pointed at Oliver’s neck. A dark inch-wide patch had formed on his skin. In the dim light, the blood running down his chest was oily black.
I leaned in to have a closer look. With my hands cupped to shield the light, I lit a tiny flame, praying to The Lady of the Lake that it couldn’t be spotted from the farm.
It was bad. Really bad.
“He must have been hit by a gunshot,” Nick muttered. “Is the bullet still in there?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I hope not. I’ve never treated any gunshot wounds before.”
“Treated? As in …?”
I didn’t answer. I lay my hand on top of the wound, swallowing to keep from gagging as Oliver’s warm blood pulsated underneath my palm. The bullet must have grazed the aorta, which had stayed intact for a few minutes–but now it had ruptured.
Mum once told me she had been in the line of cars behind a speeding BMW, and when the driver decided to wrap the car around a tree, Mum had sprinted towards him, ignoring the flames that threatened to reach the gas tank. She hadn’t been able to save him, however, as his aorta was torn to pieces.
Juice or no juice, I emptied whatever magic energy I had left in me into Oliver’s neck, the intoxicating rush of healing flowed through me. It was nothing like the rage I felt when I used my fire, or the calmness releasing a force field filled me with. Healing was my favourite power, simply because of this exact experience. I closed my eyes, even though that had no effect on the power itself. It did, however, enhance the colours that danced before my inner vision.
Oliver’s body jerked beneath my hand. He coughed and sputtered, and I opened my eyes to see his gaze meet mine. Ok, this was also quite a rush, watching the effect my healing had on people.
Oliver sat, his torso swaying a little.
“Whoa, there,” said Nick, throwing his arm around Oliver to steady him. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
I smiled, knowing all too well how wrong he was. Oliver helped prove my unspoken point when he shook Nick’s arm away and got to his feet.
“Are you kidding?” he said, a bit too loud. “Sorry,” he whispered. “But are you fucking kidding me?”
He stared at me, then at my hands. “That’s—that’s—”
I shrugged and stifled a laugh. “I know,” I whispered. “He’s fine, Nick. Don’t worry.”
We sat in silence, looking at each other and glancing back towards the farm every now and then.
The image of Lionel started forming in my head. Again and again, I watched his agonizing look as he realised what was happening. I could have let go of the force field earlier. He would’ve fainted from lack of oxygen. But I kept it going—wanted to keep it going. Forcing it tighter and tighter. It felt good. I had thought of Kaede as I tightened it way beyond what I had to in order to kill him. I only wished I had squashed his head completely. What was this? I had never felt such rage before. Rage and … a dark desire to kill my enemies.
“Ruby?”
“Huh?”
“What’s up?” Nick said, holding my shoulders and looking into my eyes. “You’re literally fuming!”
I raised my hand, touching my cheek. Tears flowed from my eyes, but they turned into steam before reaching halfway down my face. I shook my head, trying to calm down. “I killed him,” I said. “Lionel.”
“You had to,” Nick said.
“No, I didn’t have to kill him. But I did.”
And I wanted to!
“Ru, look at me. You had no choice.”
But I did. And I chose to suffocate him.
“Oliver? She had no choice, right?”
Oliver didn’t answer.
“Oliver?”
We turned, both Nick and I. Oliver was staring towards the farm.
“What?” I said, trying to see through the darkness. “Did you hear anything?”
“No,” he said. “And that worries me. I don’t want to sound like a cliché, but it’s too quiet. There are at least twenty guards in that … facility. We took out two of them.”
“Five,” I said. “Ulfius and Lionel, remember? And Mordred.”
“You killed Mordred?” Nick was gaping at me.
“He’s no longer with us,” I replied.
“Ok, five then,” Oliver continued. “That leaves at least fifteen. Fully armed, probably stocking their bloodstreams with PureX as we speak. God only knows what powers they’ll have.”
A chill crept down my spine, and I wrapped my arms around myself, shuddering at the thought as much as the cold air.
“We’ve got to keep going,” Oliver said. “Get as far away as we can before they come for us.”
“What about phoning for help?” I said.
“How? Care to light the forest on fire, and send some smoke signals, perhaps?”
“We could use this.” Nick waved a phone in his hand. “It’s not the fruity kind, but a Samsung might do the job, too.”
“Where did you get that?” I said. “And why didn’t you say so before?”
“I did a little lift. Sort of a magic trick. And for your information, I’ve been kinda busy lately, trying not to get killed.”
“Sorry,” I said. “You’re right, of course. Give me the phone, I know who to—”
Five sharp cracks thundered through the clear night as two giant searchlights flooded the forest in bright white cylinders of light.
“Get down!” Oliver hissed.
The beams swiped from side to side, flickering through the trees like a strobe at an 80s revival party. Shadows danced through the beams, getting closer and closer. Shadows in the shape of men.
Men with guns and magical powers.
Eighteen
A voice barked orders through the night.
“Left flank—you two!”
“Bedivere and Tristan, to the right.”
“The rest—with me in the centre!”
The next order sent chills through my blood.
“Use lethal force!”
From my crouched position behind the closest trunk I had found, I could just make out the dark outline of Nick’s body as he crawled like a snake towards me. Judging by the movement of the searchlight beams, the sentries hadn’t spotted us. Yet.
“I can’t reach their minds from here,” Oliver whispered in my left ear. “I have to be closer.”
“They’ll kill you if you try,” I replied. “Stay low. And quiet!”
More orders echoed through the darkness. I had no idea how fast my magic powers regenerated, or how much the human blood held them back. The longer I waited, the stronger I became, but every waiting breath gave the guards a chance to home in on us.
“I’ve got one!” someone shouted.
A fraction of a second later, the sound of a gunshot split the night, a thin whistle as a bullet passed over my head.
“Oy, wanker! That was one of mine!” shouted someone else. “I’ve got three of me out here! Shoot the runaways instead, four-eyes.”
What did he mean, three of him? Was he a—? The word wouldn’t come to me. Mum had told me about Magicals who could make copies of themselves, some sort of astral projection. The perfect decoys in a combat situation. One of his colleagues must have fired at one of the copies. Splitters, wasn’t that what Mum had called them?
These guards had access to a whole arsenal of magical powers—weapons in the wrong hands. I couldn’t wait any longer, or we’d be sitting ducks.
“I’ll distract them. Run that way in five seconds,” I whispered to Nick, loud enough for Oliver to pick it up. “Run, and don’t stop!” As I had feared, my voice carried further than intended.
“Two o'clock! Light ’em up!”
Like spotlights at a rock concert, the beams centred on us.
“Go!” I snapped to the boys.
As their shadows vanished from the deceitful lights, I tried calling upon my firepower. As I heaved for air, with a pounding pain in my arm, I almost gave up when nothing happened. Please, let there be some left.
Again, Gabriel’s words came floating through my mind:
‘Anyone can tap into their magical reserves and harness their full potential. It’s all about self-control.’
So far, all he had said about my magic was true. Maybe this was, as well? I closed my eyes and drew my breath, calling once more to the
red-hot core of my powers. The response came, weak at first, but growing. Simmering. It was as if it called back to me, urging me to use it.
I dove out from my hiding place, turned in the air and released a giant fireball, watching it rush towards the silhouettes.
The fireball hammered the ground like a bomb, its blast wave throwing me backwards. I had no time to release a force field, but the soft mossy ground made the impact tolerable. My fireball had made quite an impact, too, as the remaining trees in at least a fifty-foot radius were ablaze. Screams from burning guards reached me as I worked my way back on my feet. One guard was running in my direction, his feet leaving fiery footprints on the forest floor. As he fell to his knees, some twenty or more steps away from me, the stench of his burning flesh made my stomach heave. His face contorted with fear and pain until it was no longer a face at all, but a skull with slivers of melting meat and skin.
I still had no idea if I could throw fire from inside a force field, and didn’t want to waste time trying to find out. As long as there was fire left in me, however, it would be my weapon of choice.
I got up on one knee as a trio of guards came running at me from the left. They looked identical in the strobing change between darkness and light beams. Tristan and Bedivere, I recalled—and the one who gave the orders. They raised their guns to their shoulders in a perfectly synchronized motion. Bullets whizzed past me, hitting the ground and trees left and right.
With both hands in front of me, I returned the fire—literally. Tiny, luminous balls gushed out of my palms as I pushed my marksmanship to the edge. I clearly saw one of them hit the gunman straight in his chest, but he didn’t fall. Instead, the image of him vanished in thin air. I had found one of the Splitter’s copies.
Screw the finesse, then. No time for guessing which one of the remaining images was the real deal. I held my hands up, palms outward, spreading a barrage of devouring flames in front of me. Jumping through the wall of fire came only one, the real one. His body landed with a sickening thud on the ground, sending sparks and burning pieces of the former officer into the scorched grass.
I turned my hands towards the ground, pushing a force field downwards as hard as I could. The shock sent me flying through the air. For the tiniest of moments, I had a bird’s eye view of the battleground; at least six or seven guards—or what remained of them—lay in flames in the giant crater my fireball had made.
