Radclyffe - Firestorm

Mallory took up the slack, and Jac set off again. The surface underfoot was nearly obscured by blowing snow, uneven and slippery. She tapped the ground directly in front of her, sending loose rock and ice skittering over the side. A few seconds later a heavy thud sounded from far below followed by the rumble of a mini-avalanche reverberating up the rocky cleft. She reached the halfway point, and some of the tension in her shoulders eased a little bit. Another few minutes and she’d be on solid ground. She took another step, felt the snow shift under her boots, felt the vibration, heard a grinding sound, and had only a second to tighten her grip on the rope.

“Falling,” Jac shouted and the ledge gave way. Her shoulder struck the edge of the rocky outcropping as she dropped, and a searing pain shot down her right arm. Her fingers went numb, and she lost her grip on the guide rope, free-falling until the slack caught and her harness jerked her roughly into a horizontal position, like a fly on the end of a line. She twirled, spinning around, driving her already damaged shoulder into the wall again. She cried out, unable to stop herself, and tasted blood in her mouth.

“Jac!” Mallory called from above. “Jac?”

“Here.” Jac swallowed blood, the initial swell of panic fading. She wasn’t falling anymore. The rope had held. She kicked her feet around, forcing her torso toward the wall until she found a handhold on a three-inch root sticking out through the ice. She got herself vertical, head up, feet down, and craned her neck to see above her. A dark shadow broke the uniform fall of snow. Jac rubbed her face on her sleeve, clearing dirt and debris, and focused on the shape. Mallory knelt on the ledge, her features stony, the guide rope tight around her hips.

“Are you hurt?” Mallory called down.

“Banged up my shoulder. My arm isn’t working quite right, but I think it’s just sprained.”

“Can you climb?”

Jac braced her feet against the vertical wall and dug her toes into the frozen surface, searching for a foothold as she gripped the rope with her good arm. “Yes.”

“Let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll pull you up.”

Snow, rocks, and small pebbles broke free from the gap in the ledge and rained down in Jac’s face. She closed her eyes and turned her head away. When the shower stopped, the gap in the shelf was wider, and a fresh gouge in the rock face had appeared just below where Mallory knelt. “That ledge isn’t safe, Mal. You need to reposition.”

“We need to get you up. Climb.”

Jac knew what Mallory wasn’t saying. The rest of the ledge could give way at any second, and if it did, they would both fall with very little chance of getting back up again. Once she put her weight against the wall, with Mallory as the fulcrum, that ledge would bear even more weight. “Mal, I don’t think—”

“Climb, damn it, Jac. Don’t argue.”

Jac tightened her grip, pushed down with her thighs, and pulled herself up as Mallory reeled in the slack. More stones fell, a chunk of ice bounced off her back.

“I’m not taking you down with me,” Jac yelled.

“No one is going to fall. Keep coming. Another couple of feet and I’ll have you.”

Jac secured new footholds, flexed her thighs, bunched her shoulders, and shoved herself up. The rope tightened as Mallory worked her end. The crack below the ledge widened. She was close, but not close enough. “Back off to somewhere stable, Mal. I can make it from here.”

She was lying, but Mallory didn’t need to know that.

Mallory’s face appeared through the haze, her eyes dark burning coals. “Don’t quit on me, Russo.”

Jac tried to flex the fingers of her right hand, searching in the front pocket of her jacket for her knife. If the ledge gave way she could cut loose—Mallory might have a chance.

“Don’t you even think it,” Mallory snarled, her expression feral. “You get up here, Russo. I’m not letting you go. You got it?”

Jac couldn’t cut herself free even if she’d wanted to. The feeling was coming back in her arm, but not fast enough. Her fingers were too numb to grip her knife. If she didn’t want to take Mallory down to the bottom of that ravine with her, she had to get herself up. She flexed the muscles in her abdomen, forced her feet into the crevices in the wall, and pushed. Her shoulder struck the wall, and she bit back a cry. Then Mallory was leaning over the edge, grabbing her harness, jerking her up, and she was kicking, pushing, pulling herself onto stable ground.

“I’ve got you,” Mallory gasped, crushing Jac against her body.

“Get off of here, Mal,” Jac gasped. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Be careful, Russo,” Mallory murmured against Jac’s neck. “I’m not pulling you up again today.”

Jac closed her eyes and breathed the scent of Mallory deep into her chest, letting herself rest in the safety of Mallory’s arms. “Can’t say as I blame you.”

“Shut up, Jac.” Mallory’s lips brushed over Jac’s cheek, so light they might have been snowflakes except for the searing heat that followed. “Just shut up.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Jac crawled off the ledge, got her legs under her, and braced her body against the rising wind. Her pulse stopped racing, and her stomach settled with her first step onto stable ground. The snowfall formed a solid wall of white now, and she focused on Mallory’s dark silhouette just ahead of her as she pushed forward into the gale.

“Over here,” Mallory shouted, pointing to a story-high outcropping of boulders.

Following the brief break Mallory forged in the frozen tapestry, Jac ducked under a slight overhang, hunched against the rough rock face next to Mallory, and turned her head out of the driving wind and snow.

“How do you feel?” Mallory asked. Ice crystals caked her lashes, melting on the dark filaments like weeping diamonds.

“I’m good.” Jac saw the words deflected by the stormy surface of Mallory’s eyes, but she recognized pain where others saw only cold reserve. Mallory was blaming herself for the accident. “I’m alive. You’re alive. All that matters now is the mission.”

“We need to turn back. You’re injured and I can’t leave—”

“No. I can keep going.” Jac raised her injured arm to demonstrate. “Strength’s coming back. Must have banged the nerve a bit. No harm done.”

“My fault,” Mallory said tersely. “I shouldn’t have let you cross—”

“Mallory, we’re partners out here. A team.” Jac lowered her arm, giving her aching shoulder a rest. “If I hadn’t wanted to cross and hadn’t thought it was safe for you or me, I would’ve said so.”

“I’m still the boss, team or not. I’m sorry.” Mallory stared straight ahead, her jaw set, her cheeks pale beneath the windburn that painted a crimson swath high on each arched cheekbone.

“Look,” Jac said, refusing to let Mallory shoulder blame when there was none, “I know the statistics as well as you do. I know how many rescuers are injured or worse. If it wasn’t dangerous out here, those kids would’ve strolled down the mountainside yesterday. We don’t have time to beat ourselves up. Deal?”

“You’re right,” Mallory said, some of the tension easing from her face. She turned until their eyes met and smiled gently. “How’s your shoulder really?”

“Hurts like a son of a bitch.” Just seeing the shadows recede from Mallory’s eyes made Jac’s pain fade. “But it’s not broken, and the strength is back in my hand. I’m good to keep going, but I don’t think I can climb, at least not right away.”

“If this snow keeps up, we’re not going to be going anywhere for much longer.” Mallory brushed the moisture off her face impatiently. “We knew weather was coming, but I hoped we’d at least have today.”