by Karen Diem
She sidestepped, dropping into a negativa, and tried to sweep his feet out as he went past. While her blow was solid, he only stumbled. His recovery was almost instant. In comparison, her foot ached at the contact, as if she had kicked a wall.
He kicked, clipping her and send her staggering toward the old shed.
Oye, I will have such bruises tomorrow. If you are safe, Wyn, I can work on ditching this guy and teleport to Aideen through a window. Zita ran again, planning her next series of jumps. Intuition warned her he was close.
A deep groan came from inside the house, and flames lit up the dark kitchen. Fire streaked by them. Pretorius snarled behind her.
When she reached the shed, she did quick wall climb up the weathered gray boards and onto the roof. Wood creaked a warning underfoot; this was not a place to linger. As she turned to assess her pursuer, she discovered Pretorius had changed priorities.
Brake lights warned her, and she did a pop vault off the roof, rolling to a two-footed stop. The rear of the SUV crunched into the shed. With a groan, the decrepit structure dissipated into slivers.
A fiery form came drifting out of the house. Another agitated ball of fire danced in her right hand. Flames licked at the doorway behind her.
Pretorius shot a ray of light at the woman of fire. It hurled her backward, and the SUV’s engine roared as he raced away. Of course he has laser beams shooting out his hands too. Why not, when he’s already extra strong and tough, and can function as his own flashlight? He poops grenades, probably. He’s gone. You need to be out of the house. It’s on fire. She began to run toward the house.
Not one to waste words, Andy tossed a man out the back door. The human baseball landed by her. When the dealer got to his feet, he pulled a knife and went after her with a crazed look that made her think he had been sampling the merchandise. Scrawny street brawler, she judged, not even an effective one.
“You know the thing about capoeira?” Zita asked, dodging the blade. “It’s more about the legs than the arms.” She kicked him in the stomach and then danced behind him and kicked the back of his knee.
He fell, clutching his leg.
Zita kept moving toward the house, when the dealer she had knocked down the stairs staggered out the door, his gun drawn. Blood smeared his face. Seeing her, he raised his gun to fire. Even with him holding it sideways, she was an easy hit at this range. She skidded to a stop. “Oye, let’s not be hasty,” she tried.
Something thunked. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he fell to the ground.
Wyn stepped over his prone body, holding a cast iron skillet in both hands. “That’s for making me a lame cliché!” she barked, tossing the pan down next to him.
Water dripping from him, Andy emerged from the other door with three men in an awkward carry. One kicked as he was dragged. Another lie motionless on a shoulder, nearly naked, soaked, and sobbing. The third was unconscious and missing his pants. “We need to get further away before the flames reach the drugs. This neighborhood is in deep trouble if this place explodes!” he said.
“Someone’s on fire in the kitchen. The kitchen’s alight as well,” Wyn said, gesturing toward the kitchen she stepped. Her hand flew to her mouth, and the sorrow in lavender eyes turned to alarm. “Oh my Goddess, he’s getting up! We need to help!”
Zita shook her head. “Remember the hospital?” She inclined her head toward the kitchen.
Spooked, Wyn nodded and got out of the doorway. She hurried over to the shed, halting as the dots connected. Is that Aideen?
I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate one of us, Zita sent back.
Andy’s tone was thoughtful. “Does she just shoot fire or does she control it?”
Zita shrugged. “No clue, why?” She dragged basement man down the stairs.
He waved his unconscious man toward the door of the burning kitchen. “If she controls it, she might be able to put that out.” Should we pretend not to know her?
That was my plan. We always bickered like hellcats and dogs, so I’m not comfortable giving her our secrets. “Hey, fireball! We need your help!” Zita shouted into the kitchen as she dragged the man from the basement into the yard, dropping him at the shed remains. Move in case she can’t do anything.
Wyn’s thought was musing. Are you the dog or the hellcat in that simile?
The creature that came to the door did not resemble Aideen in anything other than build. Her body seemed formed of flame, with dark holes where her eyes and mouth should be. Flames shot out like snakes—burning ones—and coiled around her shoulders like hair, the length the only suggestion of gender. A crackle and roar surrounded her. She drifted above the ground, not touching, until she stood outside the burning kitchen. “That’s not my name,” she replied, in a voice made unrecognizable through the distortion of the flames. One hand rested on her stomach, and she stumbled sideways. Tiny flames licked the porch railing.
Pues, take her earlier form and add drama. Struggling to hide her annoyance, Zita replied, “We don’t know your name. Can you control fire or just shoot it?”
Dark eyes swirled with fire for a moment. “What?”
Andy sighed. If this is going to be a repeat of the time you pissed off the shrink, maybe Wyn should talk? Aideen never minded us.
Eyes on the growing conflagration in the kitchen, Zita clarified. “Can you only throw fire and, uh, wear it, or can you put it out too?” Remember Aideen’s competitive streak, she added on a prod. “If you’re not powerful enough to make the fire go out, we understand.” She shrugged, watching the kitchen burn, even though every instinct was to run and try to put out the fire. If not pushed, Aideen would posture until the house exploded.
For a moment, the slow slide of the snaky locks was the only movement on the blazing woman, who also turned to consider the kitchen. While Zita watched, flames that were gobbling up the curtains—well, sheets—went out. The fiery woman turned back to Zita. Prior to that moment, Zita would have sworn that fire could not smirk; Aideen proved her wrong. “Fire obeys me. Tell me who you are and what you are doing here.”
Surprise came through the party line, so quickly smothered that Zita was unsure of the source. Part of her suspected both of them. I am totally a people person, she told them. Why you got to be hating? She rocked on her feet, anxious to be moving.
Wyn’s mental voice held suppressed laughter. As friends, we’re aware of your strengths and, uh…
Areas needing improvement, Andy proffered. Keep talking since it’s working for unknown and miraculous reasons.
Smoothing her shirt, Zita gave the quick version. “We heard rumors that kidnap victims were stored here. Before we wasted the cops’ time on it, we came to see if the guy who mentioned it was blowing smoke. Umm, not like you. The big blond—you know, the living laser pointer—ordered them to kill you, so we were going to pull you out and then call the cops. Everything… ballooned up from there. This place is a meth lab too, and if it goes off, it’ll take out the whole neighborhood. Could you put out the rest of the fire now, please?”
The flaming woman gazed at the kitchen. “Civilian vigilantes,” she sighed. “Very well. Remain near and you can explain more when I am done.” If she gestured or did anything, Zita missed it. The little fires dancing in kitchen all smoldered and died in a single second.
“Praise the Lord and all the saints,” Andy breathed. He set the unconscious man down on the ground next to the dealer from the basement, and improved his hold on the struggling man and weeping one.
Tension unknotted in Zita’s chest, and she nodded at him. “You said it, mano. Now we’ve skipping the explosions, let’s see if these creeps know where the other captives are.” She nodded at the man trying to resist. “Maybe your buddy Wiggles wants to tell us where the rest of the captives are?” She made a face and turn away from the crying man. “Anyone got a tissue for the soggy guy?”
Andy dumped the sobbing man on the ground, where he curled up in a fetal ball and continued his
caterwauling. Wyn knelt beside the man, murmuring. After giving Wiggles a shake like a recalcitrant puppy, Andy set him down and pointed a finger at him. “Sit. Stay.”
A mad gleam in his eyes, Wiggles started to lunge for them, and then froze, his eyes tracking a shape behind Andy.
Zita looked.
Aideen had returned, little sparks leaping off her, her gaze on Wiggles. “Lie down on the ground and assume the position,” she told him. “I’ll be asking the questions now.” She tossed a fireball like a baseball in one hand. Her other hand rubbed her stomach. With a nasty look on her inhuman face, she snarled, “Do you want to test me?”
Andy stomped over and stopped one captive from limping away by scooping him up and dumping him with the others by the former shed.
With whirl of pale hair, Wyn knelt by the crying man. At her touch, he turned the remains of his face on her, his skin half-covered in blackened blisters and red oozing spots. “Let me make it better,” she soothed. Her hands wove patterns in the air. Green light began, and the volume of the moans decreased. I’m concentrating, so if I miss anything important, let me know, she sent.
Wiggles gulped, and lay down on his stomach, putting his arms behind his back.
“Good. Now, you mentioned captives? Did you not find them all?” Aideen asked.
Zita twitched her shoulders. “We didn’t have a chance to search the entire house. We only found one. If they’ve got others, we haven’t found them yet. There are at least two more victims unaccounted for.” She took a second to straighten her mask, pushing aside the dread that coiled inside her. Quentin, where are you? Is that a tag on my head? It is. Carajo.
Everyone was silent while Aideen thought. “Very well. I freed one woman captive. You, on the ground. How many captives are in the house?”
“J-just one woman in the basement. I swear nobody messed with her other than blood samples! All the others are held elsewhere until it’s time for the shipment.” The reply was muffled by the face in the ground.
Aideen nodded. Pointing to Andy, she snapped her fingers when he looked at her. “You! Where are your pants? And theirs?”
At first seeming irritated that she had pointed at him, Andy looked down. The poor light made it difficult to tell, but she though he blushed. “One threw a flask at me.” He waved a hand at the wet man Wyn was healing and the unconscious guy. “Standard procedure when splashed with an unknown chemical is to remove contaminated clothing and flush affected skin for at least fifteen minutes. The fire limited the flushing, but I did what I could. They didn’t seem to be taking care of themselves so I helped them too.” His voice was little more than a whisper, probably to disguise it.
Little sparks cascaded, and fiery locks swayed. “What is the blond doing?” she asked.
Wyn did not look up. “I’m healing him. He was hurting. I’ll heal you too if you can turn off the fire so I can touch you.”
“He’s a criminal. He can see a doctor after he’s processed.”
She did not say that! Gentle Wyn narrowed her eyes, and her expression carved the exquisite lines of her face into the mask of an avenging goddess. Her lips firmed, and she tossed a silver ringlet over her shoulder with her free hand. “I don’t care who he is, he doesn’t deserve to be in agony. I am far too exhausted to deal with your rubbish.” Her subject stared up at her with worship in his eyes. Her other hand continued with the glittery green glow. “If you want me to heal your stomach, you’ll hush and let me do this, or your tacky flaming self can continue to suffer.”
Aideen opened and closed her mouth. She whirled to face Andy. “You! Search the house for kidnap victims. Let me know whether he’s telling the truth. And put on pants.” She moved her hand from her stomach and another ball of fire appeared in it. She fixed Wiggles with a glare. “If he is lying, he can deal with the consequences!”
A whimper came from the man on the ground. “I’m not lying,” he howled, “I swear, mister.”
Aideen growled. “I’m a woman.” Her aura flared. The temperature in the immediate area soared enough that Zita began sweating.
The scent of urine suddenly grew stronger. “Oh God. I’m so sorry, lady,” the man on the ground pleaded. The other dealers looked everywhere but at Aideen.
Andy looked torn, glancing between Aideen, the man on the ground, and the house.
“I’ll do it, mano,” Zita said. “You’ve got the best chance of keeping them under control, and we don’t want to hurt anyone.” She eyed Aideen. Keep an eye on Flaming McBitchypants. I’ll go before she gets madder that we’re not obeying her every command.
You have the best chance of keeping Aideen from hurting anyone, Andy, Wyn added. Aloud, she called out, “Be careful.” She returned her attention to her patient.
He acquiesced with a nod. “Alright.”
Apparently deciding to ignore their disobedience, Aideen circled Wiggles, who followed her every motion without moving. One ball of fire winked out, and she stepped back, cradling her stomach with her free hand. The temperature decreased. “You! The mouthy one! Get going!” she demanded.
That’s you, Wyn murmured mentally. I’m the beautiful one, Andy’s the sensible one…
Yes, that sounds about right, Andy averred.
Zita rolled her eyes. You two are haters. The temperature dropped further as she entered the house. She left the door cracked open; breathing was a necessary part of more entertaining activities.
We’ll be here, Wyn promised. She wouldn’t dare hurt me, not if she wants healing, and Andy resists the fire enough to rectify any bad behavior. She kept up a running commentary of the interrogation.
Zita concentrated on scouting the house as she would have in an area with known dangerous animals. She had no interest in leaving traces for the cops to find or in being attacked by anyone hiding within. Her caution was wasted; it was empty. The house had only the essentials, most of which were filthy, save for several boxes of brand new men’s sneakers, the giant television, chemicals, and baggies.
Their five prisoners sat in a subdued huddle, with Andy between them and Wyn. His mask was more unkempt than before.
Wyn waved. Andy greeted her with a single word, spoken in a hopeful tone. “Pants?” Aideen… floated.
Zita summarized for them. “The house is empty, if nasty. They have a big-ass TV and DVR, mattresses that are the source of all VD in the city, and huge stinky jugs with chemical labels in one basement. I called from their cell phone, so the cops are coming.”
Wyn nodded. “We will march these boys into the living room and let them doze while they wait for the police to arrive,” she informed Zita. “They were supposed to go be extra security for a dawn shipment of captives at the Baltimore docks.” I’ll use my sleep spell on them, so they remain present until the police can arrive.
“Pants?” Andy repeated, looking up and down at her. He moped, seeing her bare hands. You think you can get them all to sleep?
I hope so, Wyn replied. Failing that, we can use their own restraints to tie them up.
Zita shook her head at him. “No spare clothing. We need to go soon, so let’s herd some snakes.” You know we have to go to the docks, right? We can’t take the chance that they’ll ship Quentin out of the country and turn him into a sex slave.
“No pants?” His face fell. His mental tone held both disbelief and laughter. Quentin? A sex slave? Andy gestured to the men by the shed. “Come on, let’s get you in the house.”
She shrugged and followed. The man has skills, based on the unrequested testimonials his dates have given.
Yet another thing I did not need to know, Andy thought.
One prisoner called her a name when she poked him to hurry him.
Zita snorted. “Buddy, I’m no dog. I’m the whole fucking arca. Do you want her to get impatient?” She tilted her head at the flaming woman.
Defiance died with one glance at Aideen, and the men trooped into the house without further protest or insults. Aideen took to the sky as they entered.
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From her position bringing up the rear, Zita shook her head. She gets to fly, too? Dude.
Once they settled their captives in the living room chairs, Wyn did her gesture and hand-waving trick, and the pink sparkly fog swirled. The drug dealers yawned.
When the rough surface of the wall next to her met the back of her head, Zita shook herself out of her stupor. She grabbed Andy and staggered out of the room.
He yawned and blinked sleep from his eyes. “Strong magic,” he grunted and made a face. They headed outside and sat on the back stoop.
Zita nodded. “Even at the edges, that pink sparkly cloud has a mean kick.” She rubbed the back of her head where it had collided with the wall.
They sat in companionable silence for a few seconds before Wyn came out.
“They’re asleep.” The witch looked satisfied. “They should sleep until shaken or hit.”
Andy mumbled under his breath for a moment and then shook his head. “We didn’t find Quentin, but we stopped these idiots from blowing up the rest of the neighborhood. If Zita’s description of the cellar contents is accurate, those chemicals would do a number on the surrounding area too. That’s not too shabby for so-called civilian vigilantes.” He sounded cheerful.
Zita hopped to her feet. Things to do. “I noticed Aideen took off without searching for any other captives. Did she have to turn the flames off for you to heal her?”
As she leaned against a post wearily, Wyn nodded. “Yes, she had our friend here give her his mask.” She inclined her head toward Andy. “I made him an illusory one. After I healed her, she practically threw it at him, claiming it was disgustingly wet. He did a decent job putting it back on considering he was in the dark.”
“What did she expect?” Andy complained. “People sweat when they’re next to an inferno in the middle of the summer. You know she’s going to call the cops on the dawn shipment, right? We could go home and rest now.”
Zita shrugged. “Fine with me if she tells them.” She rubbed her forehead and considered. “If I thought they had all the information, I would leave this to the police. Since they don’t, I will find a spot to crash nearby so I can watch how they do. If the cops miss finding them or can’t handle Pretorius—the one who shoots lasers—I want to be close by to help Quentin and any other prisoners.”
