Elemental Hunger (33 page)

“Eat.” Felix thrust something at me, but I couldn’t get my stiff fingers to respond fast enough to catch it. The lump of cheese landed in the mud. I didn’t care. Taste didn’t matter anymore.

I drank greedily from the skein he passed me. Some of the life came back into my body, but no warmth. I couldn’t stand the way my fingertips ached with cold, how they tingled as I rubbed feeling back into them. The fierce wind bit at my face and stung the corners of my eyes. How did people live like this all the time?

Felix dumped a pile of kindling at my feet. “If you play nice, I’ll take off the cancellers.”

“And the ropes.” I glared up at him.

“And the ropes.” His words came out with hovering white clouds. He pressed his hands to his mouth and exhaled. I realized he was as cold as me—and possibly willing to do anything to get a fire going.

“And you’ll bandage my wounds,” I said. “My fire leaks when I’m cut.”

He balled his fists. “Can you light a fire?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. It’s pretty cold. And I’m injured.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Then I can light the fire,” I said, hoping I actually could.

Felix unclasped the cancellers and tucked them in his coat pocket, never taking his distrustful gaze from me. He cut the ropes, and I watched them fall to the ground.

Our eyes met in a lingering moment of silence.

My fire burned cold. A single spark leaped from the gash on my left wrist. The sight of my own blood made the flimsy bite of cheese feel too heavy in my stomach.

Felix tossed me a strip of cloth, which I held while he took my other hand and bound it. His hands were freezing and heavy, without a touch of gentleness. Still, I let him dress my wounded wrists.

Finished, he stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Light it.” He supervised, his cold eyes glinting with silver moonlight.

I knelt next to the pile of wood and rearranged it so the smaller sticks were at the bottom. Familiar power surged through my limbs, curling, pulsing to get out. I held my palms over the wood.

Nothing happened.

I pressed my hands to my face, trying to borrow some warmth. Terror flowed freely at what Felix might do if I couldn’t light the fire. I blew into my hands, but even my breath felt icy. Again, I visualized a roaring bonfire, and still nothing happened.

Felix growled deep in his throat.

“Just give me a second,” I said, hating how desperate I sounded. “You kept those blazing cancellers on all day. But I can do this.”

I balled my fists, squeezing every ounce of energy I had left into my core. When I splayed my hands over the wood, finally, finally a stream of weak flames dripped from my hands.

The wood caught them like they were old friends being reunited, and together they danced into a blazing fire. Smoke wafted up, rich and delicious, filling the empty spaces in my soul. I leaned over the fire and breathed the smoke into the deepest parts of my body.

“Watch it,” Felix warned. “Your clothes will catch the flame.”

I sat back and patted out the smoldering spark on the hem of my filthy Council robes. Felix laid out two bedrolls and motioned me over. “No funny stuff, or I’ll never take the ropes off again.”

I only considered fleeing for two seconds. But I’d never outrun him. And then I’d never see the sun or sleep without restraints.

So I lay down and let Felix form his body into mine. “Ah, you’re warm.”

His unwanted touch set me on edge. I couldn’t relax with him so close. His breathing deepened, and his snores filled the empty sky long before I fell into welcome unconsciousness.

Nothing existed in my dreams except heat. Sweat beaded along my forehead; my robes felt heavy with moisture. I rolled, only to find another source of heat lying next to me. With foul breath.

I twisted, and my internal temperature cooled. Still, I had to get away from Felix’s exhaust fumes. My fingers brushed the shards of grass next to the bedroll. Instant fire burned through my skin.

I woke fully, realizing something important was happening. I pressed my palm into the frosty grass. I felt a burning inferno coming from the earth.

I sucked it into me, feeling the rush of lava, the heat of heavy pressure. My flesh felt like it might melt from my bones. Before the fire could consume me, I pushed it away, back into the ground.

The grass surrounding my hand lay moist and warm. I tucked my hand inside my robes, cataloging this new facet of my Element.

I can control more than just fire,
I thought.

The weight of Felix’s hand on my waist didn’t feel so heavy as I settled back to sleep.

Morning dawned frigid
and fast. Felix secured the cancellers around my wrists, letting my arms hang in front of my body. Without my Element, I felt every whisper of wind—and they were more like wails.

He bustled around, packing his bag and preparing breakfast—if another hunk of cheese could be called a meal. It could, and I ate it all.

We trudged through the muck close to the trees until they petered out. Nothing existed except snow and sky, with a lone ribbon of road trailing into the horizon.

Holy blazes, it was cold. Though my Element was only several months old, it felt like a crucial part of me. I craved the fire inside the same way my body craved food and water. Without it, I felt like I’d lost part of my soul.

We walked. And walked. And walked. Thoughts of my friends were fleeting and frail. The drudgery of taking one more step, inhaling one more time, surviving one more minute, didn’t allow space for thinking. By nightfall, I moved with my eyes closed.

“Finally,” Felix muttered, his voice heavy with relief.

I jerked my eyes open and saw the most beautiful sight: Candlelight. The yellow glow shone through a few lonely windows of the village we approached. I balked at entering Cornish—they were involved in Davison’s rebellion. Surely they wouldn’t take kindly to Felix, a Tarpulin sentry. A spark of terror ignited inside, but I had no fire to respond.

No matter what, candlelight meant life. It meant I wouldn’t be sleeping on the hard ground. It meant I might find a way to escape from Felix.

That hope fled when he ordered me to stop. He released the cancellers, tucking them in his backpack before rewrapping my wrists with strips of grimy cloth.

As soon as he finished, I yanked away from his touch and pulled down my sleeves. He glared, but it didn’t hold its usual hatred. Lines of exhaustion crowded around his eyes. Maybe I could—

“Try anything funny, and you die. Cornish is on high alert.” He tossed me a cloak. “Put this on to cover those robes. We’ll be going around to a house on the south side of the village. Not a word to anyone. Got it?” His voice carried enough venom to chase away the momentary thought of escape. A flash of silver peeked from the backpack. Felix stroked the firearm almost lovingly.

I managed to nod without looking in his eyes. I pulled the cloak over my Council robes, relishing the new warmth. I caught glimpses of dark streets illuminated by pockets of light. I saw bodies darting through the streets with their heads lowered. Occasionally, I saw a guard standing still, looking toward the wilderness. I didn’t want them to see us, but at the same time, I wished they would.

Felix hurried me around the village. From a safe distance, we passed glowing homes with smoke curling from chimneys, but just as many sitting cold and dark. Felix clucked to himself as we continued walking. He paused and looked behind him, then quickened his step. A few minutes later, he stopped near a run-down shack that might have been painted yellow in the far-distant past.

“This is it,” he whispered. “We have to go in the front. Nothing funny now.”

Around the front of the house, shutters hung by one hinge. The missing door left a gaping black hole in the wall. The glass had long since broken, now lying in shards on the porch. It crunched in unison with the groaning wood under Felix’s heavy sentry boots. I climbed the steps uncertainly. The rotting wood didn’t look like it could hold my weight in combination with Felix’s.

Something in his pocket beeped. He pulled out a black box and spoke into it. “Felix, in. Status?”

A tinny voice came through the device. It sounded like Adam, but the dark doorway swallowed the words as Felix entered the house. When I stepped on the porch, it squeaked in protest.

“Hurry up,” Felix called. “I need some light.”

I stared a hole in the back of his head, hating him for demanding that I use my Element when it suited him. With a sigh, I glanced left and then right before snapping my fingers. Nothing happened. Fierce panic sliced into my stomach. Fury formed from the ashes of anxiety, and my fire came roaring back. It filled my toes, my belly, my blood. I let it rise, breathing in the sweet return of warmth. Flames erupted from each fingertip, enough to brighten the doorway before I entered.

The inside of the house hadn’t fared any better than the outside. It looked like a tornado had torn through the place. A section of the roof spilled into the room, splattering tiles and planks of wood on the dusty floor.

Anything of value had been carried off, and the room I stood in held a dark bottle, bits and pieces of paper, matted leaves, and a single discarded shoe.

“Come on.” Felix poked his head around the corner, motioning me through another doorway and into a kitchen. The cupboards had been thrown wide, their innards bare. Tin cans lay strewn on the floor as if a child had stacked them up and then knocked them over.

Another door just behind the kitchen entrance led down to a basement. A blast of chilly air coming up the steps stole my breath.

“Down here,” Felix called up the stairs. “There’s a mattress and some blankets.”

Casting one last glance behind me, I moved toward the stairs.

Water had been leaking into the basement for a long time. The damp odor rose from the cement in a disgusting welcome. Deep inside, my Element sputtered.

Even with my fingertips flaming, I didn’t see Felix. The bed lay before me, looking soft and dry. A red blanket with tiny white flowers embroidered around the edge covered it.

I only had a moment to ponder why no one had taken these items before Felix’s wandering hands latched on to me. Slithering from behind, he wrapped his arms around my waist and drew me against his body. I stiffened, trying to coax my fire into a furious inferno.

I simply didn’t have the power.

His mouth stroked my neck; his breath cascaded over my shoulder. “This will be nice, won’t it?” he murmured, removing the cloak and then fumbling with the buttons on my robe. When they didn’t open as fast as he wanted, he yanked.

The metal buttons pinging on the cement sounded like gunshots. Everything seemed too loud. Then my own breathing drowned out all other noise.

Felix spun me around, and by the dying light of my hands, I saw the starvation in his eyes.

“Please,” I whimpered. “Don’t do this.”

He smiled, revealing crooked teeth. “That’s just what she said.” He crushed his mouth to mine, sending a stream of pain through my injured jaw.

I planted both palms on his chest and pushed. Surprisingly, Felix stumbled backward. His shirt smoked where my hands had been. He watched for a moment, smoothed the wisps of smoke away, and then looked back at me.

“You want to use your Element?” he asked, taking a careful step forward. “That’s okay with me. It might even be hot.”

“Who?” I asked, hoping to buy some time. “Who else asked you not to do this?”

Felix stepped closer, untucking his shirt. “Your friend from Crylon. Cat, isn’t it?”

I couldn’t move. My Element recoiled and flattened itself against my ribcage. I balled my fists. “You
did
rape her.” Finally, my Element burned just as hot as my anger.

Felix laughed. “My job was to kill her. I wanted to have a little fun first. But there was a terrible storm that day. Damn near tore this house apart, with me inside. I got the hell out before the roof caved in.”

“Was Adam with you?” I whispered, desperate to know. Adam had said he was there—that Cat didn’t get hurt.

“He killed the Firemaker, just like he was supposed to. One thing you should know about Adam: He always does his job. He’s a perfectionist. Once he says he’s going to do something, he does it. After we negotiated the Council’s return to Tarpulin, I got another mission in Cornish. Adam accompanied the others back to Tarpulin, just like a good boy. But he followed me here.” The wicked grin creased Felix’s lips again. “That storm was one of the worst in Cornish history, and Adam was caught outside when it hit.”