Gena Showalter - Playing With Fire (tales of an extra ordinary girl)

Wide-eyed, I studied the bodies littering the living room floor. Some were moaning, some were writhing. Some were lifeless. The ones I’d frozen were still blocks of ice. Rome danced around those who remained standing. He was kicking, slashing. Killing. How long could he hold them off? Not long, I realized with horror as I watched someone bolt from the shadows and stab him.

Horror pounded through me, and I shouted, “No!” Blood dripped from Rome ’s side, soaking his shirt. Without reacting to the pain he must have felt, he bent and lashed out with his left arm, sinking his own blade into the man’s stomach.

“Come on, come on,” I whispered frantically to my hands. Nothing. No more ice. My fear was gone, dissolved in the wake of an intense surge of determination to save the man who had saved me over and over again. These goons were here to take me, perhaps kill me, and obviously meant to kill Rome in the process.

That, I couldn’t allow.

Fury invaded me then, more powerful than ever before, completely melting away every ounce of chill. I burned. No. No, I couldn’t let myself experience anger. I didn’t want a fire. Rome might be hurt by me. But the fury wouldn’t leave me-how dare they hurt Rome!-and flames began to lick the ends of my fingers and burn the rims of my eyes.

From the corner of my gaze, I saw someone sprinting around the counter and straight toward me. His determination to immobilize me was evident with his every hurried step. Underneath his black mask, I suspected he wore an expression of cold, unfeeling intent.

Instinctively, I stretched out my hands to ward him off. No air shield this time, but flames shot from me and engulfed him. His screams were agonizing, howls and pleas for help. He dropped to the floor and rolled. My stomach churned with sickness, and I gulped. Ohmygod. I’d done that. I’d done that. I covered my mouth with a shaky hand, fire dying.

In the distance, I heard Rome grunt, and my thoughts immediately focused on him. I stepped around the counter, moving straight into the center of the action. I didn’t see him. Where was he? Had he fallen? White-gold sparks flicked from my eyes. Even my hands began burning again.

As the remaining assailants aimed their guns at me, I raised my hands and twisted my body in every direction, desperate to find and save Rome. Fire sprayed everywhere I turned, trailing paths of deadly flame. Metal liquefied. Wood crackled. Smoke thickened the air, and I began to cough. My fire never ceased, though. Around me, men howled and dived for cover.

From the back rooms, I heard the infuriated growl of a wild animal. A… jungle cat? “ Rome,” I shouted. I wanted to see him, to assure myself that he lived and breathed.

An alarm suddenly screeched to full, startling life. A heartbeat later, the sprinkler system kicked on, and showers of cold water burst from the ceiling. Droplets rained on my face, caught in my eyelashes and trickled down my nose. But the flames on my fingertips refused to be doused; they sizzled hot and blistering. If they’d hurt him further…

“ Rome!”

I blinked the water from my eyes and noticed the room’s blaze was not as resilient as my own; already the fire lessened. Using this to his advantage, one of the men hurdled over the couch and dashed toward me. He didn’t have a gun, so he made use of another weapon-his legs. He jumped up and slammed his feet into my stomach. Air burst from my lungs as I was propelled backward; pain exploded inside me. I hit the floor, a wall, I didn’t know. My head thudded into something hard, and my gaze went black for several seconds.

When my vision cleared, I caught sight of a large black object-a jaguar?-flying through the air and landing on top of my assailant. The cat went for the flailing man’s throat. When it finished, blood dripped from its mouth. A scream tore from my own throat, and I found myself throwing a stream of fire at the cat. No, not flame. Ice. The ball barely missed its left shoulder.

It faced me dead-on, stalking forward, blue eyes slitted. Water rained upon us, splashing like tears. Panicked, I scrambled backward. Instead of attacking me as I feared, it jumped over me, a streak of black lightning, and knocked down a man I hadn’t known stood behind me.

Limbs shaky, I pushed to my feet and batted the wet hair out of my eyes. I had seen this same animal in my apartment. Hadn’t I? It hadn’t hurt me then, either. Had Rome – Rome! Dear God, had it already gotten Rome?

I stumbled through the rooms, searching each and every one, leaping over body after prone, unmoving body. In Lexis’s room, I found Rome ’s clothes-without his body. They were ripped down the center, mere rags. And they were splattered with blood.

My fire had died, and now the ice left me, too. I was suddenly empty inside. “ Rome!”

A violent fit of coughing doubled me over. Despite the cascade of water, the smoke became so thick and black I had trouble navigating, and had to lean on the wall for support and guidance.

“ Rome!” Weakness drifted through me, a phantom at first, easily ignored. But as the coughing fit refused to lessen and the smoke burned my throat, the weakness became a tangible entity.

My knees suddenly lost all strength, and I dropped to the floor. Had to… find… Rome. I didn’t know what I’d do if he’d… if he’d… I couldn’t finish the thought. In the distance, I heard the wail of sirens. Thought I heard the scramble of footsteps, the panicked shouts of men.

“ Rome.” His name was nothing more than a hollow, ragged whisper between coughs.

“Here, baby. I’m here.” His arm snaked around me, and he dropped to my side.

Sobbing in relief, I buried my face in the hollow of his neck and wrapped myself around him. “Where the-” cough “-hell have you-” cough “-been?”

“I’ll explain later. Right now, we have to get out of here. Can you crawl?” He didn’t wait for my answer. The palm of his hand settled on my shoulder and pushed me down. That same hand then slid to the small of my back and urged me forward.

“Can’t… see,” I said. Pools splashed around my knees, causing me to slip and slide.

“Hold on to me. I’ll lead the way.”

A whoosh of air, the brush of his arm, the sprinkle of water. I tried to clasp his shirt, only then realizing his chest was bare. I opened my mouth to ask why he’d ripped off his clothes, but he hissed in pain and the question evaporated. “Sorry.”

“Here.” Not breaking stride, he guided my fingers to his naked hip bone.

With one hand I held on to him, and with the other I crawled. God, the smoke was so thick. Even down here. Tears from my eyes blended with the drops falling from the sprinkler. Nausea welled in my stomach.

“Look out… for the… cat,” I managed to wheeze. There was something odd about that jaguar, something I knew I should guess but couldn’t seem to place at the moment. The fog in my mind proved too great. I only knew it hadn’t been a dream; it wasn’t a hallucination.

“Don’t talk, baby. Save your breath. Try not to inhale the smoke.”

The bag strapped to my back bounced against me with every movement, bruising, and I winced at the soreness. Finally we reached a small doorway. No, not a door, I realized as I stretched out my arm and patted it, but a hatch.

“Get ready to slide,” Rome told me. Without any more warning, he clutched my waist, lifted me and chucked me inside.

I didn’t have time to prepare. One second I was on the ground, the next I wasn’t. Down, down I toppled. My arms flailed, my legs stretched behind me. I would have yelled or shouted, but my throat was too raw. Black walls surrounded me, hemmed me in. Stifled me.

I smacked onto a solid foundation, and my bag smacked into me.