Water Shaper (World Aflame) (31 page)

“Who would have thought I’d be excited about starting a fire?”

Sean laughed. “No, I’ve pretty much got my fill of fires for… well, forever.”

She started to reply when they heard the sound of a twig snapping coming from the woods beyond the barn. They froze in place. Sean glanced over his shoulder and saw his cricket bat still leaning up against the side of the barn, well out of his reach.

Dark shadows appeared along the tree line, carrying an assortment of weapons in their hands. Sean closed his hand over Jessica’s as they stepped out of the trees.

The buildings around the Thames were swathed in relative silence. Fire crackled in the distance but no Fire Warriors roamed the river’s edge. The warriors had spread through the rest of London, searching for the other humans who had hidden within its suburbs.

Most of the buildings were ruined, crumbled to the ground from the intense flames that had gutted their interiors. A few structures still stood in different states of disrepair. One in particular was only slightly ruined. All four walls stood tall. Black soot stained the bricks above each dilapidated window, and the wooden doorframes had been burned to ash. The only visible destruction to the building’s exterior was a shattered upper corner.

Within the building’s interior, the bricks from the shattered corner rested on top of slabs of drywall. The impact of a figure driving through the edge of the wall crushed the two interior floors, bringing all the debris collapsing downward. The brick, wood, metal, and drywall came to rest together in a massive mound that stretched past the second story windows.

Deep within the pile, the ground shook faintly. Smaller rocks rolled from the pile of debris, rolling down to the bottom of the mound. The mound settled before immediately shaking again. A fist erupted from the depths of the crumbled floors, reaching toward the filtering sunlight from high above. The bloodied hand grabbed a slab of drywall and easily flipped it aside. The drywall slab struck the exterior wall and shattered.

With the slab pushed aside, General Abraxas was able to inhale without his ribs aching from the pressure on his chest. Blood trickled freely from wounds on his scalp and face. As he relaxed,
the edges of the cuts started pulling together. From within the wounds, flames licked the cuts, sealing them shut. They didn’t heal cleanly, leaving ugly scars across his exposed skin.

Abraxas lifted his upper body, shaking free the dust that clung to his exposed chest. His skin was still damp from the tidal
wave, and the dust from the ruined drywall turned to viscous paste on his skin. He scowled at the thought of Xander’s assault. General Abraxas had been so confident that he had cornered the Wind Warrior that he had greatly underestimated his opponent. Though he knew Xander had contacted the Water Elemental, he had no way of knowing the powers it had granted him. The tidal wave had been a surprise. Though he was able to get into the air before it struck, the wave still struck him with enough force to send him spiraling into the corner of the building in which he now resided.

He tried lifting his
legs, but they refused to come. The General angrily brushed aside the bricks over his lower limbs and hissed at the sight. Both legs were mangled. The bones were broken, and his lower legs jutted at odd angles from his thighs. He knew he should be in pain and couldn’t tell if he was numb from shock or from a blessing from his master. Abraxas knew that, given enough time, even his broken legs would heal.

Even if his lower legs hadn’t been broken, Abraxas wouldn’t have been able to escape the bottom of the building. A thick, twisted rebar lay across his thighs, pinning him in place. He reached down and grasped it, pulling with his augmented strength. Despite his Elemental-infused power, the rebar wouldn’t budge.

With a growl of frustration, he released the metal pole and collapsed backward. He stretched his arms out beside him as he stared up at the small opening high above his head.

His frustration quickly shifted to nervousness, bordering on fear. He wouldn’t have long until he’d be forced to contact his master and tell it what had happened here. Abraxas would have to admit that, despite its multiple warnings to the contrary, he had failed
… and Xander Sirocco had escaped. In his mind, he could see the best-case scenario as the Fire Elemental withdrawing its power and leaving him stranded in London. The worst-case scenario took little imagination. He had personally seen the Fire Elemental burn its own followers to ash for causing it general displeasure. What Abraxas had to share wouldn’t cause “general displeasure”. It would cause outright rage. He wasn’t sure if the Elemental had the ability to destroy him from such a great distance, but he wasn’t eager to find out.

Sitting back up, he looked again at the rebar. Extending his fingers, he formed the shape of a blade with his hand. Red flames sheathed his hand. He
concentrated, and the heat of the flames intensified. The flames shifted from red to yellow to blinding blue. He lowered his hand until the flames touched the top of the thick, metal pole. Sparks showered the area as he started cutting through the rebar. Liquefied metal dripped onto the ground beside him, igniting the debris.

Despite sweat beading on his brow, he pressed downward, cutting deeper into the metal.

He wanted to set himself free but dreaded contacting the Elemental once it was done. He knew his master would blame him for letting Xander go, but Abraxas knew there was only one person to blame. The Wind Warrior had killed him men and driven him into the building.

Abraxas stopped cutting and looked upward toward the hole in the building’s wall. “I’ll find you, Wind Warrior, and I’ll carve out your heart.”

Lowering his hand, General Abraxas started cutting again while the bones of his legs clicked and knotted as they healed.

Figures emerged from the tree line. They were spread out in a line as they came into the
clearing, and Sean quickly counted six men. As they stepped closer to the firelight, Sean recognized the bearded Frenchman in the front of the group. The man’s hands were empty but others in his group carried axes, pitchforks, and knives. One of the men had an unmarked bottle of wine hanging from his hand, and he took a long swig as he stared at the pair.

Sean and Jessica both stood. He took her hand and pulled her to his side. “What can we do for
you, gentlemen?”

The bearded man said something in French and pointed toward Jessica. Sean furrowed his brow, wishing he spoke the language. Even without understanding the words, his tone told Sean all he needed to know.

“We haven’t done anything to you,” he said. “Why don’t you just walk away and leave us alone?”

The bearded man said something else, his voice tinged with anger. He touched his hair and then pointed to Jessica once more.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Sean said.

He could feel his heart
racing, and a knot formed in his throat. Sean had never been a confrontational man, preferring to disarm people with comedy so he wouldn’t have to fight. Staring at the Frenchmen, he could tell that the language barrier wasn’t the only reason comedy wouldn’t be enough in this situation. They had come looking for a fight.

The group stepped forward, getting closer to the pair. The smell of stale wine drifted across the
campfire, and Sean wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“They’re drunk,” Jessica said, echoing Sean’s thoughts.

The Frenchman touched his hair insistently again before pointing once more toward Jessica.

Sean looked toward
Jessica, and his eyebrows arched with disbelief.

“Holy crap. You think she’s a Fire Warrior, don’t you? You stupid
, inbred idiots think she’s a Fire Warrior just because she’s blond?” His voice got louder and louder as he talked, the anger within him overwhelming his normally calm demeanor. “Do you ever leave your hillbilly little village and realize that the world is full of blond people? What exactly did you think—”

A wine bottle soared through the air and struck Jessica against the side of her head. She groaned once before stumbling backward. Her feet caught on the log she had been sitting
on, and she fell backward onto the grass. Her head rolled to the side, and her eyes fell closed.

Sean leapt over the log and knelt quickly by her side. “Jessica? Jessica?”

He could see blood seeping from her temple, dripping down into her hair above her ear. His heart stopped as his hand reached out and felt the sticky blood. It coated his fingertips. He reached down, placed his fingers against her neck, and sighed slightly when he felt a quick pulse.

“Come on, Jessica. Wake up. I need you to be okay.”

He heard footsteps approaching, and the Frenchman’s shadow fell over them. The man said something angrily to Sean. Sean set his hand on the grass beside Jessica and felt a rock about the size of his palm. His fingers closed over the stone and he stared at his girlfriend, trying to hold back the tears that wanted to spill.

The Frenchman said something again and kicked Sean in the back. Sean
turned, and the man motioned for him to stand.

Sean slid a leg underneath him and pushed himself into a crouched position. The man leaned forward and slipped a hand underneath Sean’s arm. With his other hand, Sean spun and slammed the rock into the Frenchman’s forehead. The man
staggered, and his eyes tried to roll back into his head. Sean reared back and hit him again, this time across the jaw. The Frenchman slumped onto the ground, barely missing the campfire as he fell.

Sean pounced on the man, straddling him as he swung the stone again.

“She’s just a woman, you moron!” Sean yelled as the rage consumed him. He swung again, oblivious to the blood he was getting on his hand and arm. “If she’d been a Fire Warrior, she would have killed you the second you stepped out of the trees.”

The other Frenchmen were dumbfounded by the ferocity of the rotund American. It took them a moment before they started rushing toward their leader’s side.

Sean shifted as he heard them coming and something hard and cold pressed against his thigh. He looked down and saw a pistol protruding from the prone man’s waistband.

He dropped the rock and fumbled with the pistol. He pulled it free just as the first of the Frenchmen were reaching him.

Sean leapt to his feet and shoved the barrel of the pistol into the man’s nose. The Frenchman stopped abruptly, and his eyes widened in surprise. For a moment, the man’s hand shook as it held the small hatchet, but he quickly dropped the small weapon and raised his hands in surrender.

Sean looked around at the other Frenchmen and was glad to see them equally hesitant to approach him.

“You may not understand what I’m saying but I bet you understand this, don’t you? Now back off!”

They understood well enough to back away slowly from the enraged man. The one toward whom the barrel was pointed didn’t dare move until Sean pushed the barrel into his nose, forcing him to take a step away.

Sean pointed the gun toward the unconscious and bloodied man at his feet and then motioned toward the woods with the barrel. “Now take your buddy here and run. If I ever see you again, I’ll shoot every one of you. Do I make myself clear?”

He knew they didn’t understand the
words, but they clearly understood his intent. Two of the men hesitantly approached and grabbed the bearded man by his arms, dragging him away. They continued to look back toward him nervously as they disappeared back into the wood line.