“If this is our chance to stop him, then I should.”
He doesn’t respond but his silence says volumes.
Astrid wedges her foot in the edge of the bleachers, climbing to the top. It’s a good vantage point. She checks the time on her screen and at exactly midnight the main doors open. Blaze walks in.
He’s thin with dark hair and she knows in her gut who he is. He’s one of them, one of the twelve.
Devin. The fire starter. It’s hard to tell from his features, but people change. Some look exactly the same but others shift so much it’s impossible to recognize them. She closes her eyes for a moment and tries to get a sense of the kid from the group home. The one so desperately trying to control his power. All she gets in return is the strong smell of sulfur and a heavy dose of angst.
“Luby!” the man calls walking in the gym. “Come out, kid!” His voice bounces back and his feet echo off the wooden floors. He stops before the bank of bleachers, checking out the incomplete mural. Astrid hides in a well at the top.
“Worthless punk,” he mutters, and she hears the unmistakable clink of a spray can. She dares a look and watches as he sprays the paint into the air and uses his fingers to light a flame. The spray instantly becomes a torch.
“I know you’re in here,” he says, and the hair on the back of her neck prickles. “Can’t mind your own damn business, can you?”
“I think he’s talking to you,” Casper says. “Do not engage.”
She ignores the Goblin.
In a swift move, Astrid hops over the edge of the bleachers and lands on the floor. Her braid flops over her shoulder and she slowly stands with her hands on her hips.
Blaze smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Looks like we’re both tracking one another.”
She shrugs. “I like knowing who I’m dealing with.”
“I thought that was clear? You and the boss had a deal.”
“Kincade is a sleazeball businessman out to make money. This isn’t about money for you. It’s something different.” She tilts her head and studies him. He’s wearing a black leather jacket and dark jeans. He’s tall and thin—not much muscle. His sideburns are long and his blue-black hair slicks back. She desperately tries to find Devin, the boy she knew at the home, in his hazel eyes but there’s nothing recognizable there. Not anymore.
“We’re both something different, sweetheart.” He smiles. “But you know that, don’t you?”
“I can’t let you destroy any more property. What you and Kincade are doing isn’t okay. It’s criminal, and I’m tired of having to go in and save lives and clean up your mess.”
“I saw your heroics on the news. People love you, what’s wrong with that? You’re special. You can handle a little risk.” He spreads his arms wide. “People love Kincade, too. He’s cleaning up this mess of a neighborhood. Rebuilding and revitalizing.”
“No. You’re hurting people.”
He winks. “Not if you and your friends get there in time. It’s a win-win, sweetheart.”
They stand across from one another but there’s no doubt he’s got the upper hand when it comes to weaponry. He’ll burn her alive before she ever reaches him and she doubts many of her tools will stop him before he lights the place up. She does the unthinkable to make him stop.
She reveals herself.
“Leave this one alone, okay, Devin?” She relaxes her pose. “For me.”
“What did you call me?”
“Devin. That’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Fuck Echo. Fuck,” Casper freaks in her ear.
He narrows his eyes and the darkness behind them is intense, but there’s also something else. A recognition, a flicker of familiarity. It’s only there for an instant and then it vanishes.
“My name is Blaze and you better move out of my way or you’ll be nothing but an oily smear on the floor.” Flame bursts from his hand. It’s not the spark from Luby’s memory or even the small flame from before. It’s a ball of fire, so hot she can feel it ten feet away.
“I don’t know what happened to you, Devin,” she tries again. “But you’re not alone. I can help you. We all can.”
He reacts by throwing the ball of fire at her head. She ducks, but in her heart she knows the fire won’t hit her. He can’t use his power against her any more than she can use hers against him. But fire is tricky—dangerous—and that paint-stained wall behind her catches and a ripple of fire runs up the bleachers.
“Stop!” she screams. “This is not what we are made for!”
“This is exactly what we’re made for, Astrid!” her name bounces off the room. He knows her name. He knows her. “This is who we are. Weapons with a purpose. It’s not my fault you don’t know your place or worth in the world!”
“My place?” She eyes the growing ball in his hand. This time bigger. More deadly. It could take the whole place up.
“Don’t think they won’t come for you. I know they killed your mentor. Quinn’s and Owen’s, too. They won’t kill you, but they will find you.” He steps closer and the heat is unbearable. Sweat drips down her neck and back. “And they’ll put you to use just like me.”
He backs away quickly, faster than she can react. He tosses the massive ball of fire and it lops over her head. “You’re better off dead. Trust me, I’m doing you a favor.”
The fireball lands in the chemicals and in an instant engulfs the floor. Cans of paint heat and explode. She runs toward the door, leaping over the fire. But it spreads quickly, too quickly, and soon she’s surrounded by an impenetrable blaze.
“Cas, I’m in trouble.”
The ear piece grows hot and she yanks it out before she can hear his response.
Smoke fills the room, filling her lungs. Sweat pools against her palms and the fingertips of her gloves. Falling to her knees, she knows this is it. There’s no way in or out. Devin wants her dead.
She falls over, coughing and covering her mouth. The heat is unbearable—her skin pulls tight. A flash of black catches her eye. She’s sure it’s the reaper coming for her. A shadow crosses over her and strong hands lift her off the floor. Half-conscious, she’s aware of being carried through the flames, her head covered by something hard and metal.
The air just outside the gym is clearer but still not safe and her body is racked with spasms from the smoke. The crash of glass is followed by her falling to the ground. Wet grass. A hovering shadow. She reaches up and feels sharp angle of a jaw.
“Quinn?”
He tugs her gloves off, peeling away the melting fabric, and his warm hand meets hers.
A window explodes behind her and flame seeks oxygen. Light fills the night and she sees his face. It’s not Quinn.
His eyes aren’t quite right and his shoulders, while broad, are too narrow. He holds something over her head, protecting her from raining glass.
“You…” she says, trying to form the words. He looks down on her and his name is on the tip of her tongue.
The world turns black.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Astrid
“As.”
Her name floats down like a cloud, miles away and completely out of reach.
“How long has this been going on?” a familiar voice asks. A normally kind voice, but now it’s laced with anger.
“A few weeks,” Quinn replies. Two heartbeats echo in her ears. “It was under control.”
Thumpthump
Thumpthump
Both pound with tension that vibrates across her skin. The fire didn’t dull her senses. If anything, it’s made them stronger. The only time it fades away is when the nurse brings her medication and she slips back into unconsciousness.
“She nearly died, Quinn. I wouldn’t call that under control.”
That voice comes from Jensen. No wonder it sounds so pissed.
“I’m sorry. That last one. It was a trap of some kind. I thought Astrid was in the clear.”
“You thought wrong!” Jensen shouts. Astrid tries her hardest to open her eyes. She wants to tell him it’s okay. She’s okay, but that there are bad guys out there they need to find. “This little game you’re playing. This foolish idea of Atticus’s! It has to stop. It’s too dangerous.”
Her head weighs a million pounds.