Keri Arthur - Fireborn

I nodded, throat suddenly dry and heart going a million miles an hour. Excitement, not fear.

He slid around the corner, raising a thick cloud of dust that hid his sudden stop. I opened the door, scrambled out, then ran for the trees as he took off again.

The red cloak wasn’t far behind him. He came around the corner too fast and skidded sideways on the dusty road. I released the internal locking system, sighted on the nearest rear tire, and fired. The first two shots missed. The next two didn’t.

The tire exploded, and the car—still going too fast and not under complete control after the semi-slide around the corner—reacted violently. The tire exploded, came off the rim, and fired thick bits of rubber in all directions as the car pulled savagely to the left. The driver’s reaction was instant and totally wrong—he slammed on the brakes. This succeeded only in accentuating the car’s reaction, and he spun completely around and then slammed into several trees along the side of the road.

Jackson’s truck reappeared through the choking cloud of dirt and reversed straight into the undamaged side of the car, buckling both doors inward. For all intents and purposes, the red cloak was trapped.

I lowered the weapon but didn’t slip the ILS back on. The red cloak might be trapped, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still dangerous.

Jackson climbed out of the truck, a wide grin splitting his features and his enjoyment so strong it burned the air. “Shall we see how our captive fairs?”

I nodded and gave him the gun. He was legal to carry. I wasn’t, and we did have a more official follower somewhere behind us.

He approached the broken car from the front and with caution, the gun held at the ready. The engine was screaming, the sound high-pitched and grating, and steam billowed out of the grille. The smell of gas stung the air, a potentially dangerous situation if there were any sparks or if the leaking vapor hit the hot exhaust or catalytic converter.

There was no movement inside the car. The air bags had all gone off, but were even now deflating, beginning to hang like loose white sacks from their moorings. The windshield had shattered, the bits of glass glittering like diamonds all over the crumpled front end. The red cloak inside wasn’t moving. There was blood in his dark hair and he slumped half-sideways, as if the seat belt was the only thing holding him upright.

Jackson stepped closer, his nostrils flaring. Distaste spread across his face. “God, these things smell rancid .”

“Well, they are diseased.” I stayed where I was and rubbed my arms. I’d been close to these things once before, and that was more than enough.

“This one is also human.” He hesitated. “Or maybe that should be was human.”

“Most vampires were human at one point in their lives,” I reminded him. “That in itself is not an oddity.”

“Yeah, but regular vamps smell like vamps. These things still have a human overtone. It’s as if they’re not quite turned.”

Which would explain why they could waltz around in daylight when regular vampires could not.

As he took another step closer, flames began to lick the bottom of the car. “Jackson—”

“I can feel the fire,” he cut in. “It’s no danger, trust me.”

“Meaning you’re putting it out?”

He flashed me a grin over his shoulder. “What, and waste all that lovely heat?”

“That lovely heat,” I said tartly, “will crisp our suspect, which is not such a good thing if you want to question him. Not that I think that’s a good idea.”

In the shadows crowding the rear seat, something moved. Tension and fear suddenly crawled across my skin. “I think there might be—”

Before I could get the rest of the sentence out, a seething, screaming mass that seemed more animal than human exploded from the car. Jackson swore and raised the gun, but it was flames, not bullets, that shot out at the red cloak. They encased the creature, but didn’t stop him. It cannoned into Jackson, sending him sprawling, and came straight at me.

I swore and threw myself sideways, hitting the dirt hard enough to hurt but rolling back to my feet in one smooth motion. Fire erupted from my flesh, burning around me—through me—until I wasn’t flesh, just a seething mass of flame. The creature lunged for me, his body afire and his red eyes glowing with both the reflection of my fire and his own madness. I retreated, trying to keep out of his way, but he was too fast and too close. His wickedly curved nails sliced through my flames, but there was no flesh left to rend and tear and possibly infect.

I loosed a long stream of fire at him. It lassoed his torso and snapped tight. My flames, stronger and more deadly than Jackson’s, raced across the red cloak’s flesh, but he didn’t seem to care. He just kept coming at me even as his flesh blackened and began to peel away.

Two shots rang out, the sound barely cutting across the roar of my fire. The red cloak’s head exploded, spraying blood and bone and brain matter everywhere.

I shuddered, suddenly glad I wasn’t wearing skin. The last thing I needed or wanted was to be covered in red cloak goo.

The rest of the body continued to burn, the combination of Jackson’s flames and my own quickly rendering flesh, muscle, and bone down to little more than ashes that the wind picked up and scattered through the forest.

I took a deep breath, then doused my fire and regained human form.

Jackson stared at me.

“I’d guessed what you were, but it’s a totally different fucking thing to see it.” His voice held a touch of awe. “I had no idea a phoenix could become nothing but flame.”

“And I didn’t know you could draw fire into your body and use it as a weapon. I thought fire Fae could only shape and control it.” My gaze scanned him. He didn’t seem to be hurt or bleeding, but I nevertheless added, “Did he scratch you at all?”

“No. He was too busy trying to get at you.” He cocked his head to the side, listening intently. After a moment, he added, “Get in the car.”

“What?”

“Our second follower is coming.” He made the Glock safe and then strode toward his truck. “Get in the car, Emberly.”

“But—”

“Do you want to be stuck all day in a police station being interrogated about this mess?” he snapped. “Because I certainly don’t.”

I stared at him doubtfully, knowing it was stupid to run, knowing that Sam would be madder than hell when he eventually caught up with us, and unable to deny the attraction of either.

“They’ll just find us again, so what’s the point?”

“The point,” he said, opening the driver’s side door, “is that you and I can at least talk beforehand.”

I snorted softly. “What, and synchronize our stories?”

“You can say what you want. I certainly will.”

“Then why run? It’s not like we can’t talk afterward.”

“Yeah, but after this, their noose around you will be tighter, and I might not get close enough to ask my questions.” His gaze met mine, grim but determined. “However much I desire you, Emberly, I still want information.”

At least that was the complete and honest truth. Unsure whether to be happy or not, I climbed into the car, then stared out the side window as he took off.

We got back onto the main road and he hit the gas, steering the car through the twists and turns with ease. After a few more miles, he turned off again, then slowed down to cut the dust cloud. The trees closed in until it seemed we were driving along little more than a goat track.

“Where the hell is this place of yours?” I asked eventually.

He grinned. “You’re in it. Have been for the last mile.”