Erica Hayes - Scorched

My power erupted, thundering like monstrous drums in my head. Equity flew backwards into her desk. Paper and hardware scattered. A glass globe on the desk shattered, falling shards prisming in the sun.

Equity stumbled to her feet. Her mouth twisted, and she flung up one angry fist and hurled light at me.

So bright, my skin scorched like sunburn. My retinas seared blind. I screamed, and something in my brain stretched itself to the limit and tore. Somewhere, a window exploded, and dimly, I felt Adonis crash-tackle me to the floor.

My head clanged. Water poured from my eyes. My throat was swollen, I couldn't breathe. I wheezed, gulping for air.

Gradually, the glare faded. Adonis hovered into focus above me. I blinked, reeling, my eyes burning like acid. He gripped my wrists, shaking me. "Verity. Let it go. Chill. C'mon."

"Okay… Fine… Get off me." I scrambled to my feet, panting. The window behind me was smashed, and breeze swirled in, ruffling the plants and scattering paper on the floor like tumbleweed. What the hell had I done? Equity pissed me off, but attacking her was uncalled for. "Jesus. I'm sorry, E. I didn't mean it. Guess I'm still a little tense."

"I think you should leave now." Equity advanced on me, her eyes alight with chilly fury. Silver light glittered between her fingers, and sparks crackled from her hair. "I don't want to see you. I don't want to talk to you. See a doctor, don't see a doctor, I really don't give a shit. But I swear to you, Verity, if you interfere with my campaign I will come down on you like an act of God. Now get out of my office, and don't come back."

My vision swirled. "What? I said I didn't mean—"

"Didn't you hear me? You're fired. Get out."

"What?" Adonis was incredulous. "Jesus, E. Give her a break."

I laughed. "I'm a Fortune. You can't fire me."

Equity smiled back, thin and cold. "I can. I just did. Get out."

My jaw dropped. Speechless, I looked to Adonis for something—anything—but he just gave a tight shrug, his gaze guarded. Later, it promised. Don't make this worse.

I swallowed. Flexed my fingers. Coiled my power tightly. "Fine," I said calmly, and walked out. Behind me, Adonis swore and started arguing with her. I didn't stop. Didn't look back.

On the way down in the elevator, I let my forehead fall against the cold metal wall, and closed my eyes. She'd fired me. My own damn sister. Fine, I shouldn't have hit her. But she was letting my enemy get away with murder…

Wind whips my hair back. Tears scorch my chilled cheeks. I scrabble for the poison vial. It's just out of my reach. I stretch out with my power, but something yanks me backwards. I fall. My face slams into metal, and a lick of razor-sharp flame slices the floor apart an inch from my nose…

My head swam, images and memories mingling like water. FortuneCorp were the good guys. We were meant to fight villains, not encourage them. Not—the word stung sour in my mouth— negotiate with them.

I stood straighter, and scraped my hair back, automatically checking my look in the mirror, a second before I remembered what I'd see.

My stomach tilted, sick. My eyes looked dark and hollow, my mouth a tight line. Still burned. Still scarred. Still hideous.

There's more at stake than your ugly face.

Oily rage boiled inside me, and I shoved it away, pounding my fists against my thighs until my burning blood subsided. She was wrong. Yes, I wanted revenge. For my face, my shattered memory, all those months of agony. I wanted to make Razorfire suffer like I'd suffered, scrape that knowing smile from his lips, watch the fire flicker out in his hate-bright eyes and whisper, this is for what you did to me.

But it wasn't just about my face. It wasn't even that Razorfire killed Dad and had me tortured until my mind nearly shattered. Razorfire was a public menace. A terrorist and mass-murderer. A psychopath who despised everyone and everything, who'd stop at nothing until he owned the world, or burned it all.

He didn't deserve to live. And I wasn't going to let him.

Hot determination forged to steel in my heart. I pulled my mask from my pocket and wrapped it tightly around my fist. The leather's soft stretch across my skin felt safe. It gave me strength. If Equity wasn't on my side, fine. I'd talk to Adonis, our cousins, Dad's old friends, even Chance. And if they wouldn't help me? I'd just have to do it on my own.

The elevator pinged as it reached street level. The doors slid aside, and I walked out.

Into two big guys, who grabbed my shoulders and yanked me forwards.

I stumbled, but they dragged me to my feet. A woman in a pale suit smiled at me. A blond woman with glacial blue eyes, who held a gleaming silvery helmet.

Dr. Mengele.

No. My blood screamed cold. My muscles spasmed in terror, the remembered stink of piss and fear. I'm not a bad person. I can't go back there. I can't.

Someone had betrayed me. They were sending me back to the asylum.

A wail of denial ripped my lungs raw. Escape, or die.

I yelled, and let my power explode.

The glass walls shattered, and crashed in silvery waterfalls. Breeze swept in from the street, dragging my hair wild. People in the double-story lobby screamed and ran. The two heavies stumbled, and something sharp scraped the skin between my neck and shoulder, the hot sting of a needle. A plastic syringe tumbled onto the tiles. They'd been about to stick me, fill me full of sleepy-time shit so I wouldn't struggle.

Good luck with that.

Mengele kept coming. Should have killed the evil bitch when I had the chance. More of her people came out of nowhere on all sides, running for me. Behind the reception desk, the lobby security guy reached for his radio. I crouched, panting, and sized up my enemy. Surrounded. No way through. No way out.

I gathered my power beneath me, and leapt.

Force flung me skywards. I somersaulted, and fell, dragging the air downwards with all the strength I could muster. The heavies looked up. I landed in a crouch in their midst, slamming my fist into the tiles with a crack like thunder.

Boom! The shock wave rippled outwards, shattering ceramic as it went. The floor quaked. Mengele and her heavies staggered, and I sprang to my feet and sprinted for freedom.

I hurdled spiky broken glass and screeched out onto the sunlit street. People gawked. I shoved them aside. Behind me, heavy footsteps pounded, Mengele's goons coming after me. I had a few seconds' head start, if that. Better make the most of it.

I ran across the street, dodging honking traffic. Despite the danger, it felt good to run, wind in my face, blood pumping in my legs. But my scratched shoulder felt hot and numb at the same time, and I knew with a sinking stomach that some of their helljuice had made it into my system. It was only a matter of time before I fell and couldn't get up. If I wasn't safe before that happened…

I ran faster, my thighs protesting with a fresh burst of lactic acid. Tires squealed and drivers yelled abuse as the goons followed, not as agile as I was. I ducked through a corner coffee shop, leaping the tables with a flex of power. The goons would have to go around. Score another few seconds for me. I skidded around another corner, out of sight for a few precious moments. A brick two-story was jammed in between two ten-floor glass office buildings. An old guest house or something, converted into a bank, its sloping tiled roof shimmering in the sun.

No time to think. I leapt onto the roof, and crouched beside the chimney pot, dying to gasp for breath but barely daring to inhale.

The goons tumbled around the corner. My chest ached for air. I didn't dare move. Sweat trickled down my neck. My shadow loomed frighteningly large on the roof tiles. Surely, they'd see me. The buildings either side were too tall, even for me. I can jump, sure, but I can't fly. And I couldn't climb those smooth glassy walls…