Jaime Rush: Dragon Awakened

“Speed.”

Speed in Miami traffic. Yeah, right. Especially since a storm had recently passed through, leaving the freeways wet and slick. Which made drivers either go too slow or too fast. The black mass of clouds now squatted roughly over the upscale neighborhood where Uncle Mon lived.

By the time she reached his house, the storm had moved on. Everything glistened from the recent rain. South Florida storms were wicked but brief. Mon chose this area for its secluded lots. Not that fans clamored over him. He had built his fame as a master illusionist overseas. He was almost a rock star in Germany. Deservedly so. Even as she’d watched from backstage, she had never once seen the trick, the hidey-hole, the sliding panel. When she begged to know just one secret, he always said with a conspiratorial wink, “It’s real magic, ducky.”

Her work boots scraped on the flagstones leading to his front door. Nothing seemed amiss, so his trouble was likely some exaggerated fear spun from his eccentric mind. She brushed past the animal bones, crystals, and silver stars hanging from the porch roof and lifted the knocker. The brass moon banged against the heavy wood door, echoing inside the marble-floored foyer on the other side.

“Uncle Mon?”

She heard a strangled warble that sounded like, “Go!” Which didn’t make sense since he’d ordered her to come.

She pushed the door open and stopped cold at the surreal sight of Mon several feet above the floor, his feet dangling. A bolt of green lightning speared him to the wall, right through his chest. She felt encased in a solid block of ice, unable to breathe.

His horrified eyes found her. “G-get… out , child.”

Run. Obey Mon.

Leave Mon to die from this thing? Hell, no.

She ran forward and grabbed the flower arrangement from the table in the center of the foyer, her gaze on the bolt.

Pain wracked his wizened face. “Don’t let it see you.”

Which didn’t make sense either. She threw the vase with every ounce of strength she could muster. It fell short, but she was already searching for something else before it even crashed to the floor. She had to knock the bolt away from him, but with what? The knives Mon collected that she was never to touch, except for throwing practice.

She ran into the den where several were mounted on the walls. Two knives slid free of their fancy sheaths in her clumsy grasp. She raced back, skidding to a stop and aligning herself so she wouldn’t accidentally hit him. His arms now hung at his sides. His fingers flexed, the only fight he was putting up now.

No.

Before she could throw the first knife, the bolt formed into a ball of light and shot upstairs. Mon fell to the floor in a bone-jarring thump , and she threw herself at him, sliding on her knees the final two feet.

“Mon! Talk to me.”

She gasped at the hole burnt into his chest, nearly gagging at the smell of seared flesh. His eyes lacked the light of life, dull yet still fearful.

He uttered, “Get out. Will…kill if it sees you.” He was talking at least, even if he wasn’t making sense.

“Lightning can’t see . And it doesn’t come back. It’s random, ‘lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same place’ and all that. I’m calling nine-one-one.”

“No.” He raised a shaky hand and let it drop on top of hers as it went for her phone. “Can’t tell police. Rule Number One.”

“Mon, you’re in shock.”

“Tell them…lightning.”

“It was lightning. Ball lightning, I’m guessing, which I’ve heard can act really freaky.”

“Not lightning.” He took a stilted breath. “Magick.”

“An illusion?” But no, illusions didn’t inflict mortal damage. He was talking nonsense. “Mon, please let me get you help.”

“No use.” He sucked in a noisy breath. “Get the envelope I told you about…bottom desk drawer…and go.”

She sputtered a hysterical laugh. “Are you crazy? I’m not leaving you.”

“Stupid, but not…crazy.” He gasped, his hand tightening on hers. “The person who sent it…danger, ducky.”

His words sank in. “You’re saying someone sent that lightning bolt to kill you?” The thought squeezed her throat, especially when he nodded.

“Read my…letter…explains everything.” Mon spoke with what looked like every ounce of his remaining strength. “Do not see your grandfather. Too…dangerous.”

“Brom’s been in that mental hospital in Alaska for years. Wait, are you saying he did this?”

Mon’s eyes widened with determination. “Cyntag, he…” He shuddered, then fell limp.

“No. No!” She put her fists on the uninjured part of his chest and pumped. “Come back. Come back, damn it.” Even in her disbelief, grief tore at her.

A sound whispered behind her. She spun to find the green ball sailing down the curved stairs and into the den. An acrid smell hit her nostrils. Smoke rolled out of the upstairs hallway, and she heard a whoosh in the den. The ball shot back out and hovered a few yards in front of her. She stared at it, almost mesmerized by the green sparks inside—until it came at her.

With a yelp, Ruby ducked as it whizzed so close that she felt a sting on her forehead, then smelled burnt hair. Her hair. She grabbed one of the knives she’d dropped as she launched to her feet. It tingled in her hand, emitting faint electrical shocks. She couldn’t take even a second to look at it. The ball floated a few feet away, following her movements.

Following her movements?

Like Hunter/Prey. “What are you?” she screamed. Orb popped into her mind.

Flames licked inside the den and along the stairway banister. The orb had set the house on fire. Now it wanted her. What the hell?

It zinged toward her, and she threw the knife. It flew faster than she thought possible, stabbing the orb. It shuddered, vibrating so fast that she could barely discern the movements. It disgorged the knife, which disintegrated like friggin’ dust. But it had done something. The orb was smaller now. She needed to get the other knife.

The orb flew at her, and she ducked around the backside of the heavy foyer table. Hunter/Prey. It was all coming back. Wood crackled behind her, and smoke filled the house. Noxious fumes tickled her throat, hot and cloying, and she fought the cough burning up her throat.

Flames filled the den now, licking into the foyer as though they were testing the air. She lunged for the other knife but the orb cut her off. It had intelligence, all right. The knife seemed to glow, though it was probably reflecting the green sparks. Or maybe not. Obviously it wasn’t a normal knife.

The orb circled the foyer. She could barely see it now because of the smoke and the tears in her stinging eyes. Coughing spasms wracked her body, and smoke strangled the air from her. Have to get out of here . She backed toward the door.

The orb flew behind her, sending her jerking forward. Ruby feinted right, then ran toward the kitchen. It beat her to the door. The kitchen was already in flames, but a clear path to the exterior door remained. She took several steps back, facing the orb as it followed. Pretending to head to the front door, she twisted around and slid across the floor toward the second knife. She and Mon had played a form of paintball in his old house, which had marble floors and long hallways. She got good at sliding on the slick surfaces.

The knife tingled again as she gripped it in her sweaty palm. She spun around, searching for the orb. Not seeing it, she ran into the kitchen. Black smoke billowed in the upper portion of the room. The orb hovered between her and the door. The damned thing was keeping her from escaping!