Playing With Fire (Power of Four Book 2) (3 page)

Near the Gate was a bruised Skyler, seated on one of the bikes, surrounded by his gang of Hunters – all except Ella. Skyler’s gaze moved through Aaron’s group, starting with Michael and Kate, then moving to Sam and Rose before pausing on Aaron. His stare went to Chris and the air chilled around them. Skyler looked back at Aaron, his jaw clenched, the icy blue of his eyes cutting into Aaron.

“See you in another fourteen years,” he growled in a low voice as Aaron passed him.

Aaron stopped to face Skyler. He opened his mouth, but no words left him. Skyler tore his gaze away, looking disgusted. Aaron turned to the Hunters around Skyler, to Zhi-Jiya and Ryan who stared back at him with the same disappointment as the rest. Aaron felt Sam’s nudge against his shoulder, to prompt him to start walking again. Aaron followed his dad out of the Gate of Salvador, leaving behind the first city he had seen in this realm – the place that had taught him who he was.

***

The portal that sat in the woodlands outside the Gate of Salvador had been destroyed by Kyran after he raced through it to escape. Scott had set up a new one, allowing those leaving Salvador to do so quickly and safely. Aaron made his way through the dense forest, head lowered as he followed behind his dad.

The glow of a portal made him look up. Aric’s mark – a circle with an inverted V inside, holding a spiral between its legs while three wavy lines sat behind it – glittered against the darkness, inviting them in.

Aaron paused when his dad walked past it. “Dad?” he called.

“It’s not ours,” Chris replied. “This one is for the City of Jharna.”

Aaron felt his mum’s hand gently push him from behind. He hurried after his dad. “Where are we going?”

He could only see his dad’s back, but even so he could sense the tension in him.

“We’re going home, Aaron,” he replied.

Aaron’s gaze shot to his two friends. They couldn’t go home. Sam and Rose had the Trace – something that would get them killed if they set foot back in the human realm. Sam frowned in return. Aaron turned his head to look behind at Kate and Michael.

“Not the human realm,” Kate said, reading Aaron’s expression. “The home we once had in this realm.”

Chris came to a stop, halting the rest. Before him sat a smaller portal, but still in the glowing form of Aric’s mark. Aaron stared at it, inexplicably nervous.

“You mean,” he said, “we’re going to...?”

Chris faltered. “Marwa,” he said at last. “We’re going to the City of Marwa.”

He turned to take Aaron’s hand, and Aaron quickly hoisted his bag onto his shoulder to take Sam’s hand. Kate had Michael’s hand in one of hers and came forward to hold on to Rose, who was already clutching her brother’s hand. As one, they walked to the portal and passed through it, leaving the woods behind, to arrive at another Gateway.

Aaron took a moment to study his surroundings. The pathway under his feet was made of perfectly smooth concrete, stretching as far as the eye could see, like the one leading to the Gate of Salvador. But this one was different – it was a glittery white-stoned path across a vast lake. Aaron looked at the deep blue water on either sides, with something akin to mesmerised shock, as the calm water licked the edges of the pathway. When Aaron lifted his gaze, he saw rocky mountains in the far distance on one side of him and a magnificent waterfall on the other. He could see the clear stream gush down, raising little clouds of mist as it hit the waterbed.

His dad pulled at his hand, leading Aaron down the path. They walked for a few minutes before a towering Gate appeared out of nowhere, materialising in the blink of an eye. Aaron watched the familiar marks flash on the glistening mass – symbols depicting demon forms, numbers that represented the four elements and the outlines of various weapons.

Chris stopped at the Gate but never let go of Aaron’s hand. He reached out and placed his other hand on the door. Kate did the same, as did Michael.

“Christopher Adams.”

“Kate Adams.”

“Michael Williams.”

The Gate flashed and a light washed over all of them. The numbers and symbols disappeared, until all that was left was Aric’s mark, pulsing on the surface of the Gate. A click and the Gate slid open, disappearing into itself.

Aaron couldn’t help the sense of déjà vu as it washed over him when he stepped out of the blinding daylight into a darkened, sleeping village oblivious to their presence. Lanterns floated in the air. Rows of houses lined either side of the street. There was even a long table in the middle. Aaron’s heart skipped at the sight.

As they made their way down the cobbled path, Aaron realised that the layout might have been the same, but Marwa was not Salvador. Even the darkness of the night couldn’t mask the big houses with their perfectly kept gardens. The table that sat proudly in the middle of the street was not a scrubbed wooden one; the lanterns gave enough light for Aaron to notice the rich mahogany. The very air spoke of elegance and wealth.

Chris, Kate and Michael led the younger three along the street, passing one impressive house after another. Aaron noted that Sam was giving his surroundings a curious look but Rose wasn’t. Her eyes were on the ground, walking slowly, being led by Sam’s grip. For a moment Aaron worried Rose wasn’t aware of what was happening. Was she in some kind of shock?

A sudden gasp made Aaron look away from Rose. He came to a stop, because the adults before him had too. They were in front of a house – a big, square, detached villa, one that must have once stood with great pride but now was wrapped in thick vines.

Aaron gaped at the sight. The glow of the lanterns above was enough to see the vines that ran not only up but also vertically around the house, encasing it, like thin branches of a monstrous tree that had grabbed hold of it and refused to let go. The doors, windows, every part of the house from the bottom to the roof was held fast.

Kate was staring at the house with an open mouth, eyes wide and filled with hurt. “Oh my God,” she breathed.

Michael stepped forward. “What is this?” he asked.

“I’m guessing it’s a reaction to our disappearance from the neighbours,” Chris said, his voice forced into an even tone.

Aaron looked over at his dad to see flickers of anger in his eyes as he stared at his home. But Chris only let out a tired sigh and handed his bags to Michael before rolling up his sleeves. He raised both hands, aiming at the house. The vines shuddered and slowly,
very
slowly, they started to unwind and inch backwards. A minute passed and Aaron watched as his dad’s eyes narrowed, a faint sheen covering his forehead.

“Damn, they were angry when they did this,” he muttered, flexing his fingers.

Without a word, Aaron dropped his bag to the ground and went to stand next to his dad. Chris looked at him in surprise. Aaron didn’t meet his gaze but raised both hands and focused on the vines. From the depths of his mind, Aaron heard Kyran’s voice echo, no matter how much he tried to block it.

You’re an Elemental, Ace. You can use the power of Earth as you see fit...Take control...Free your mind from the constraints of how to do something. Focus instead on what you want.

Aaron pushed his power forward, feeling his fingertips tingle. He glared past the darkness, focusing on the vines, willing them to pull back, to fall away.

…Command, Aaron, don’t ask...

A strange pressure built inside him, squeezing his heart.
Fall back!
He called mentally.
This is our house. Leave it alone!

The vines recoiled. When the last of the vines withered away and freed the house, Aaron lowered his hands. He felt jittery, his fingers still buzzing. He braced himself before glancing at his parents. They had never witnessed him using his powers before. His dad had a strange look on his face, something between pride and regret. Michael was smiling. His mum, on the other hand, didn’t look happy at all.

***

The air was musty and stale but Aaron expected that; the house had been sealed for fourteen years. They walked into the silent, dark house, coming to stand in the hallway. Michael raised a hand and small flames suddenly danced in the lamps on the wall. Aaron looked around at the dark wood panels and what once must have been cream walls, but now the paint had changed to a mouldy yellow. There were doors leading to rooms on either side of him. The only piece of furniture was a rectangular sideboard, the top of which held half a dozen framed photos. Everything was caked in a thick sheet of dust. Cobwebs gathered like little clouds in the corners.

Kate and Chris were staring at their home, the place they had once happily lived. Kate’s gaze stopped at the far end of the hall, where a small, colourful toy truck lay, tucked in the corner. Aaron saw it too. It suddenly occurred to him that his parents had left during the attack that killed his brother and uncle. They never got a chance to come back here. The house was exactly as it had been, fourteen years ago, with all of Ben’s things where he had left them.

Kate didn’t move. She stood where she was, her eyes on the toy. Chris came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her hair and Kate swallowed back her emotions. She pulled herself out of his arms and turned around, facing the three teenagers, fighting to remain composed.

“The bedrooms are upstairs,” she said. “I’m sorry about the state they’re in–”

“It’s fine.”

It was Sam who had spoken. His voice was rough but his words held a hint of empathy.

Kate nodded. “You should go and rest. It’s been a long day.”

Michael led the way, lighting the lamps as he went. Sam, Rose and Aaron followed after him. As Aaron passed the sideboard he couldn’t help but glance at the framed pictures. Even through the grime and dust, he could make out images of his young, joyful-looking parents.

He stopped at the first photo of a small, dark-haired baby, smiling cheekily up at the camera. That was him. His brother. The one he lost hours before he was born. Aaron picked up the frame and wiped a hand down the glass, clearing away the dust. Ben looked not much older than two in the picture. Thanks to his mum’s love for displaying family photos around the house, Aaron had seen plenty of his own baby snaps, so he instantly recognised how much he looked like Ben at that age. The only difference was the eyes. Aaron had green eyes, Ben had had blue. Aaron’s heart twisted as he stared at the photo. If his brother had lived, they would have shared a great resemblance, the kind that told complete strangers they were brothers.

Aaron put down the picture, wanting to follow his uncle and friends upstairs. He passed by the rest of the photos, only giving them a quick glance. He stopped abruptly as a familiar face caught his eye. He turned towards the sideboard, leaning in closer to the gold-trimmed photo of a handsome, dark-haired, green-eyed boy sitting with Ben on his lap. Aaron’s breath caught in his chest, his heart hammering at his insides. The boy in the picture was Kyran.

3

The Aedus Heir

The room was dark and quiet. So quiet it was impossible to tell someone was there, lying in bed, fast asleep. A knock sounded on the door and the figure shifted, groaning.

“What is it?” came the sleepy question.

The sharp knock rapped the door a second time.

“Go away,” the figure said, turning to his side, settling comfortably.

The door clicked open and Kyran strode inside. “Morning,” he called.

A wave of his hand had pulled the thick curtains aside, letting bright sunshine spill into the room. The occupant of the bed groaned louder and pulled the covers up over his head. Sunshine danced in every corner of the room, reflecting off the impressive chandelier to throw patterns on the walls. The gold-plated bed frame gleamed in the light.

Kyran grinned, standing cross-armed next to the bed. “Seriously?” he asked.

The covers inched lower, just enough to expose messy black hair and narrowed hazel eyes. “Sunlight,” he croaked. “Burns.”

“It does not,” Kyran dismissed. “You’re not a vampire. Sunlight doesn’t bother you.”

The eyes narrowed further. “That’s not what I meant,” he said. “I was sleeping. You know what bright light does to sleepy eyes?”

“Yeah.” Kyran smirked. “Wakes them up.” He gestured for him to rise. “Come on, get up. I want a demonstration.”

“I’m tired,” came the reply. “Which means I’m not ready yet. Leave me alone to recover.”

“Father,” Kyran breathed. “How are you going to build your strength if you lie in bed all day?”

The covers came all the way down this time. Hadrian smirked up at his son, the gold specks in his eyes glittering in the light. “That sounds like a plan.”

“You’re not spending the day in bed,” Kyran said. “Get up.”

“I sense there’s a role reversal going on here,” Hadrian said.

“Or maybe this is payback,” Kyran replied. “You used to get me up at the crack of dawn. I, at least, let you sleep till nine.”

“How kind,” Hadrian said dryly. “But as it stands,
I
am still the father and I’m telling you to get out and leave me alone.”

Kyran laughed. “Not a chance,” he said. “I didn’t spend a year stalking Salvador, waiting to get to Neriah to steal the key that hung from his damn
neck
and unlock your powers, just for you to sleep through the transition.”

“It’s tiring, Kyran,” Hadrian said with a sigh, but he pulled himself to sit up in bed. “The core takes its time, not to mention immense energy, to recover from the damage of being locked for so many years.”

“Speed it up,” Kyran said.

“I would but it’s better for it to happen slowly,” Hadrian replied. He smirked at the disappointed expression his heir wore. “How did you think this was going to go?” he asked. “You would hand me the key, unlock my core, and I would surge with unspeakable power, rise up ready for the kill and go on a war path in five seconds flat?”

“No,” Kyran replied. “Three seconds.”

Hadrian chuckled, his eyes bright with amusement. “Patience,” he said, throwing aside the covers to get up. “It’s not just a virtue. It’s the difference between winning and losing.” He crossed the room, heading to the en-suite.

Kyran watched him go, his eyes darting to the partly exposed tattoo on his father’s right shoulder blade, peeking out from under his vest. The inked mark had fascinated Kyran from a young age. That was until he grew up and understood what the circle holding an inverted V, three wavy lines and a spiral meant.

“Not much point now,” Kyran said. “We’ve already won.”

Hadrian paused and turned to look at him.

Kyran sat at the edge of the bed, leaning back to stretch out his legs. “Your powers are back,” he said in explanation. “The war is as good as over.” At his father’s raised eyebrow, Kyran shook his head. “It’s not what I think. It’s what the mages believe. They’re convinced that once you unlock your powers, you’ll win the war in a heartbeat and they’ll all end up dead.”

Light sparkled in Hadrian’s eyes and his lips lifted in an amused smile. “They’ve got the right idea.”

Kyran snorted. “You wouldn’t believe the crap I had to hear this past year.” The smile slipped from his face and his eyes darkened a shade. He looked over at his father. “Did you find out who made those kills?”

“Raoul and his Lycans,” Hadrian replied.

“Figures.” Kyran glowered with fury. “It looked like Raoul’s work but the mages couldn’t be bothered to figure that out. They were more than happy to blame me. The Scorcher burns everything he touches, so it must have been him!”

Hadrian chuckled. “I never knew your reputation meant so much to you.”

Kyran snapped his head up, intense green eyes narrowed. “It’s not like that,” he argued.

“What is it like, then?”

Kyran paused for a moment. “They should find the real culprit,” he said at last. “Blame me when it’s
actually
me. I don’t have a problem with that. I’m proud of what I’ve done.”

Hadrian watched him carefully. “Of course you are.”

Kyran shifted in his seat. His right hand, with four silver lines across the back of it, curled into a fist.

“I’m surprised you didn’t see that coming,” Hadrian said. “They’ve been doing that with me for years.”

Kyran nodded slowly, eyes unfocused, mind going over all he had heard in his Hunter meetings at the Hub. Every time they talked about the Scorcher, pinned another crime on him – one that he hadn’t committed – it had made his blood boil. Kyran was surprised he’d managed to keep himself from burning the city to the ground. Well, almost, anyway. His escape wouldn’t have been possible if he hadn’t distracted them with that fire. He knew it wouldn’t do any lasting damage, though – he hadn’t put much force into it.

“Don’t worry, Kyran,” Hadrian said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “We’ll make them pay for tarnishing our good name.”

Kyran could sense the mocking tone. “Not if you stand around talking all day.”

Hadrian crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at Kyran with a smirk. “You planning on being cheeky all day?”

“I have a year to make up for.”

Hadrian’s smile slipped from his face. “I never anticipated it would take that long,” he admitted.

“It was okay,” Kyran pacified. “It was mostly tolerable. When they weren’t spreading lies about you and blaming me for everything under the sun, it wasn’t...too bad.”

Her image flashed in Kyran’s head – dark hair, big brown eyes and that smile that made him stop and stare every damn time.

“You sound almost nostalgic,” Hadrian said.

Kyran looked up at his father to see that teasing smile again. Kyran rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. I miss Salvador,” he said. “I especially miss the bullets they buried in me.”

The humour left Hadrian quickly. Something flickered in his eyes, his body tightened, even his jaw clenched. Kyran saw it and at once shifted, sitting upright.

“Don’t start again,” he said.

“Then don’t bring it up again.”

There was an edge to his voice, one that Kyran knew meant Hadrian was struggling to hold back his anger. If there was one thing Hadrian couldn’t stand, it was Kyran getting hurt, and last night Kyran had come home with bullets in his chest and back.

A thought crawled into Kyran’s mind and he relaxed, smirking a little. He kept his eyes on his father and shrugged. “All things considered, I got away pretty easily.”

He was right. It was the wrong thing to say.

Hadrian’s body tightened further but he uncurled his arms, clenched his fists and took a step closer to Kyran. “Easily?” he snarled. “They shot you
three
times!”

“I know, I counted them,” Kyran replied dryly.

Hadrian’s eyes darkened. “Did you count them last night too, when I had to
dig
the bullets out of you?” he asked, his words underlined with a growl. “Their shots may not have killed you, but they still pierced holes in your flesh. You came to me bleeding and injured.”

Kyran kept his eyes on him. “What does it matter?” he said carefully. “As long as you got what you wanted.”

That did it. Hadrian’s face twisted with rage, the gold specks in his eyes brightened, coming alive until his eyes glowed amber. “Kyran!” he yelled.

Behind him, the entire wall lit up in flames. The roar of the fire filled the room, a manifestation of Hadrian’s anger. Then just as suddenly as it had come, the fire died, leaving the wall black and charred. Hadrian turned to glance at the damage before looking back at Kyran, only to see him smirking, looking very proud of himself.

“You did that on purpose,” Hadrian said in realisation.

“I got impatient,” Kyran said. “I’ve waited my whole life to see you use what’s yours.”

Hadrian started to smile, but his expression changed, a flash of pain crossed his face. He stumbled, about to fall, but his son was by his side in a heartbeat, holding him steady.

“Father?” Worry laced Kyran’s voice.

Hadrian took in a breath and shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “Look what you’ve done, you brat,” he said in a strained voice. “You tired me out with your little trick.”

“Admit it, it was worth it,” Kyran replied with a grin.

Hadrian let go of Kyran and straightened up. He narrowed his eyes at his son. “No more of your antics,” he warned. “I have to wait for my core to fully restore before I start using my powers.”

“Fine,” Kyran replied. He stepped back. “And for the record, Neriah and his Hunters could’ve buried every last bullet into me, and I still would’ve returned to you with the key. I have yet to fail to do as you ask.”

“I asked you to get out and leave me alone,” Hadrian reminded playfully.

“And when I go to have breakfast, you’ll have your wish.”

Hadrian shook his head. He held Kyran’s easy gaze but his own was changing, darkening once again. He stood tall. “So,” he paused. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Kyran frowned, looking lost. But something in his father’s expression told him what he was referring to, and Kyran felt his blood run cold. His expression lost all his previous amusement.

“No,” he replied.

“Kyran–”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Kyran said quickly. He ignored the frantic beating of his heart, but knew his father’s vamage abilities would pick up on it. And then he would
make
Kyran talk.

Hadrian took a step towards him, his eyes softer.

“Kyran–”

“Do you know what I was wondering?” Kyran asked quickly. “How are we going to let the world know Hadrian Aedus is back?”

Hadrian let the topic go, for now. He smiled.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve been planning this for sixteen years.” His eyes gleamed in vicious glee. “They won’t know what hit them.”

***

The sound of gunshots was deafening. Grunts and growls of beasts with sharp claws and bloody jowls surrounded him. Aaron watched in mounting horror as he stood in the middle of the chaos. Hunters were everywhere, fighting to the death with hell hounds. The gruesome, ugly dogs, with matted fur and red eyes pounced at the Hunters.

Aaron tried to focus, to recognise the faces of the mages but none of them seemed familiar. He ducked out of the way of a hell hound’s vicious swipe, meant for the Hunter behind him. After a minute or two, Aaron began to realise that no one was coming at him. No hell hound and no Hunter. It was like he was invisible, like he wasn’t even there.

The ground under his feet rumbled before cracking. Aaron watched it with fascination as he stood perfectly stable. That’s when he looked past the growling beasts gnashing their teeth together, past the Hunters shooting and fighting with great flair, to the glittery white walls. Three walls were locked by grey criss-crossing bars. That’s when Aaron knew where he was. It was a Q-Zone – a trap devised by the mages to kill demons – only he wasn’t really here because he didn’t remember coming on a hunt. Which meant he must be dreaming.

“Didn’t you hear him?” someone yelled over the noise of the hunt. Aaron looked for the familiar voice, only to gape in surprise. It was his dad, a young Christopher Adams, fighting a hell hound. He kicked the grisly dog back before his power turned it to stone. He looked right at Aaron. “Get out of here!”

Aaron stared back at him. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask what was going on, how his dad could see him, when someone replied from behind.

“No way! I’m not leaving without you.”

Aaron turned in the direction of the voice, but he couldn’t tell who had spoken from the crowd of fighting mages.

“Go!” Chris called, drawing Aaron’s attention again. He watched as his dad fired three bullets into one hell hound, dodging the rabid fangs of another. “The zone is about to collapse!” He shot two more hell hounds before wiping his arm over his sweating forehead. “Get out now!”

“Not without you!” came the reply.

Chris twisted out of the way of another hell hound’s attack before shooting it down. He looked straight up at Aaron, furious. “Dammit, Alex, get out!”