Exhale (31 page)

Zoe’s blood ran cold. “Posing as me? The bald guy at the grocery store acted like he knew me. Jesus, what if she’s already started?”

“What guy?” Jack asked.

“A man attacked me. Said all sorts of horrible stuff about things we’d done…sexually.”

The muscles in Gavin’s cheek tightened. “That would explain a lot. The prick’s still in jail. Maybe we should try to get in and question him.”

Jack scowled. “Or beat the shit out of him.”

What kind of twisted people pulled this kind of crap? She had seriously underestimated what these Elementals were capable of. And to think Iri had been under her roof, watching her, day in and day out on the boat, reporting his findings to a psychopath.

Shit. She had trusted that snake in the grass. And Scarlet’s role in this upgraded Zoe’s security threat level to red.

“Is Scarlet really that good? Could she fool you into thinking she was me?”

Gavin sighed. “I don’t know. I hope not, but…she may have pulled one over on me a few weeks ago.” He shook his head and curled his lip as he tugged at a thread on the hem of his tee shirt. “It was before I met you—”

Oh, hell, more ice water in her veins. She lifted her hand and cut him off. “I don’t want to hear about it.”

He met her gaze. “It wasn’t like that, Zed. I didn’t sleep with her. Exactly.”

Jack’s eyes widened, and he stood up with mug in hand. “I’m gonna grab some more tea.” He exited stage left to the kitchen like he had a fire to put out.

Accusation pinged around the inside of her head, but she shut it down. She’d slept with Gavin one time. She had no right to dictate how he should lead his life, and she shouldn’t pass judgment on things he’d done in the past. Nope. None of her business.

But man, this news smarted like a slap in the face.

“I won’t get into the details, but it happened shortly after I rescued you in the Dreaming. A girl approached me at one of Mike’s parties, and I followed her to the bedroom. We were about to…you know…” he waved his hand, and she nodded for him to continue, “but I thought of you and couldn’t go through with it.”

Her heart nearly tripped over itself as it skidded to a halt. “Why would you think of me? You didn’t even know me then.”

“I knew you well enough to realize I’d be making a terrible mistake if I fucked—er, had sex with her. The point is, she had a lot of red in her aura, and she smelled like Scarlet. I really think it was her.”

Oh, God. She shivered.

“Okay, so what should we do? How will you know it’s her if she bangs on your door in the middle of the night wanting sex?”

His gaze darted around the room. “A code word. A phrase. Something.”

She laughed. “You mean like, ‘Queen to queen’s level three?’”

He screwed up his face. “Huh?”

Clearly, he needed to expand his sci-fi repertoire. “Old Star Trek episode. Forget it. How about something whale-related?”

“Whale names? You say one, and I say the other?”

“Why not? But we have to make them up. Last thing we need is her going after real whales. Pancake died a few years ago. We could use that for one code, and Flapjack could be the other.”

“Agreed. If I suspect you may be Scarlet, I’ll toss ‘Pancake’ into the conversation. If I don’t hear ‘Flapjack’ back, I take the bitch down.”

“I hope I’m somewhere close. I’d like nothing better than seeing Scarlet get her due.” A surge of anger rippled through Zoe. That bitch had better keep her paws off Gavin.

Jack returned with hands buried in his pockets. “I think I’m gonna head out. Let you two have a little time together.” He pointed at Gavin. “I’ll see you in the morning. We gotta leave bright and early.”

“You need a ride, mate? I can take you home,” Gavin said.

“No, I’d rather walk for a bit. Could use some fresh air.”

Couldn’t they all? Zoe escorted him to the door.

Jack laid a hand on her shoulder. He leaned close and whispered, “All that stuff you said before about being dumb and your mother being disappointed? I can’t speak for Candace, but I
never
saw you that way. You were a ray of light to me, even from a distance. I was so goddamn proud of you. Still am. Did you know your name means ‘life?’ That’s what you were—what you
are
—to me.”

He patted her arm and turned away before she could reply, which was just as well. The waterworks had restarted.

“Thank you, Jack,” she called after him with a sniffle. He continued down the dark driveway and waved a hand without turning around.

Her heart swelled.

Wow. She had a real live dad.

Chapter Thirty-one

Sinnder wandered the fringes of Dharug National Park, north of Sydney. He had no destination in mind. Never did. His life had always been a pre-ordained path to nowhere, so he guessed he was still on the right track.

His heavy boots trudged through the bush, trampling, crushing, and snuffing out life below them. Just like the whales.

His stomach rebelled again, though whether from the haunting memories of the earlier boat excursion or the residual Water damage from the bastard Tongan dissolving his flesh, he didn’t know.

He lifted his arm and paused his steps. Angry pink blisters covered the skin from his wrist down to the knuckles. All this from one swipe of a hand. Jesus, the Tongans were powerful. He flexed his fingers. One of the blisters popped and wept a tear of clear liquid. He shook it off and continued onward.

Dusk settled in dancing purple-gray blotches, and a breeze swept in. He followed the wind north along the banks of the Hawkesbury River until a northeast-traveling tributary broke off like a crossroads. Squishy mud burped underfoot. Playing with water like this could lead to further injury, but he didn’t care.

He paused and sent his heat-seeking gaze across the river. Not a soul in sight. He could walk into the currents, and no one would ever know what became of him. He should have let the water overtake him centuries ago when the cursed Fire first grabbed hold and twisted his soul into—he looked down at himself—this.

Scarlet had destroyed everything he’d ever loved.

The moonlight playing on the dark river swayed like a dancer, tempting, swirling.
Join me
, it seemed to say.

He took a step closer, the toe of his boot dipping just below the surface.

Laughter ascended in the sky behind him. He snapped his head up and closed his eyes. Three male voices. Young. A cruel
whoop!
and a pitiful inhuman cry.

His death bath would have to wait. He turned in the direction of the yells, and stalked his prey. A loud crack echoed through the gum trees. Another howl. His pulse raced.

Fire
.

He salivated and picked up the pace, a lion no longer concerned about stealth. Hunger drove him to a small clearing. Night had taken the reins from dusk, but he didn’t need light. His Firesight showed him everything.

Three tattooed teens holding long, thick sticks leapt around a prone pale form. One raised his makeshift weapon, shook it, and bayed like a wolf. The others followed. The thing on the ground didn’t move. Its dying spirit bled out into the air.

Sinnder’s Fire flared, and a fireball got away from him. Dangerous.

A tree on his left blazed to life, illuminating the scene and casting menacing shadows. The boys stopped, their faces turned toward him, sticks ready to strike.

“What the hell?” one said. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen.

The animal on the ground whimpered, raised its head, then fell back.

A dingo.

Its tail twitched once and then stopped moving. The fire from the tree cast the animal’s thick, blood-matted fur in warm, yellow-orange shades. A front leg lay at an unnatural angle. Red oozed from a jagged line on the side of its head. Bits of dirt peppered its protruding tongue. Breath rattled in and out between long intervals of silence. Death hovered, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Sinnder launched himself at one of the boys, tackled him to the ground, and punched him in the face. One of the others dropped his stick and took off into the forest. The remaining shithead jumped on Sinnder’s back and clubbed the nape of his neck. Sinnder sucked the kid’s Fire through his skin, smiled, and tossed him a couple of meters through the air into a tree. The thug landed with a loud grunt and gasped for air.

Refocusing on the first kid, he pulled more of that angry Fire inside and pummeled him again. The punk’s eyes fluttered, and he passed out. Sinnder got up and stalked over to the one lying on the ground, laid a boot on his chest, and exerted pressure. The kid choked and pawed at Sinnder’s foot.

“I suggest you and your mate get out of here and don’t come back.” He glanced to the unconscious one who was starting to come around. His head rolled back and forth.

Foot still balanced on the kid’s chest, Sinnder in leaned close. “And just to make sure you don’t ever fuck with another dingo again, I’m gonna leave you with a little memento of this night. A memory of me.”

He flipped his irises to red. The boy gasped, eyes wide, and fought in vain to free himself from Sinnder’s boot.

Sinnder pumped Fire into his index finger and waved the glowing red pointer just above the kid’s cheek. He shrank back.

“Please, I won’t ever do it again, I swear! We were just having a bit of fun—”

“You killed that dingo for no reason, you ignorant little fuck.” Sinnder hissed. A droplet of saliva splattered on the kid’s face and sizzled his skin like hot bacon grease. He cried out.

The red-hot finger landed on a clammy cheek. Sinnder swirled it in the shape of an S. The kid arched his back and screamed.

Sinnder straightened, kicked the thug in the ribs for good measure, and said, “Get out. Now.”

Both boys struggled to their feet and loped into the woods.

Lips pressed flat, Sinnder turned to the dingo. The smell of death hung heavy in the air. He took a tentative step forward. The animal tried to lift its head, but it couldn’t. It shivered.

He knelt beside the dingo, held a shaking hand over its tangled, bloody fur for a long moment. His fingers made contact. The animal flinched, then relaxed.

The fur was softer than he imagined it would be. He moved his hand in slow circles, and the dingo’s eyes closed. Breath shuttered in. Out. In. Out. The embers of life faded to dull yellow in his Firesight.

A twig snapped, and Sinnder spun around. A dark-haired woman stood a few meters away, arms crossed over her chest. Her glasses reflected the orange of the still-burning tree.

“You don’t belong here.” American accent, softly spoken, but firm. Her gaze dropped to the dingo for a millisecond then returned to him.

“Neither do you.” Firesight revealed very little Fire in her. Odd. A Wyldling’s Elements should be fairly balanced.

“I have more right than you.” She stepped forward and pushed him out of the way with remarkably strong hands.

She crouched beside the dingo and caressed its face. The animal whimpered. The woman closed her eyes, settled both palms against its fur, and took in slow, exaggerated pulls of air.

What was she—?

With subtle twists and tugs from her expert hands, the dingo’s life force returned, slowly at first, then it picked up momentum. The broken paw straightened. The bloody wounds closed. The animal stretched and raised its head, eyes glowing brighter by the second. It stared at Sinnder, its expression somehow conveying thanks, and wobbled to its feet.

The woman stood up.

Sinnder straightened too. “You’re an Erthe Elemental.”

“And you’re a Fyre.” Her practical, low voice sent a tingle through his scalp.

Stalemate.

She circled him. He adjusted position to face her as she made her pass. Head lowered, the dingo shifted its gaze between them.

“Why did you save her?” The Erthe nodded to the dog. Her eyes revealed nothing. Neither did the little spark of Fire inside her.

He dropped down and held out a hand to the dingo. She crept forward, still in that supplicating pose, and sniffed his fingers. She lay at his feet and tucked her muzzle between her front paws.

Sinnder glanced up at the woman through his shaggy hair. “I was looking for a pet. She seemed nice enough.”

“Dingoes don’t make good pets. Best to leave her alone.”

The dog dragged herself closer to him and laid her chin on his boot.

The corner of his lip pulled up, and he rubbed her between the ears. “Seems she disagrees. I think I’ll call her Harriet.”

The dingo whined softly.

Sinnder stood.

“You’re not taking her.” Strong, unyielding tone. Intriguing.

“I’ll wrestle you for her,” he joked.

She stepped forward, and the fire brightened her face. Dazzling lime-green eyes narrowed on him from behind her glasses. The ingredients of a smile swirled together and produced something close to a wry grin. “You’re on.”

He swallowed. She wasn’t serious.

She held out her open hand. “I need your name before I kick your ass.”

He snickered. She
was
serious. Okay, he’d play her game. He clasped her cold hand and pumped it once. “Sinnder. I’ll try to go easy on you.”

“Jet Hawthorne. Don’t.” Expression still unreadable, she stood still as an owl.

Harriet slunk away. She must have sensed Hawthorne was about to have her arse handed to her. The dingo had probably had enough violence tonight.

Sinnder jumped Hawthorne.

And was slammed to the ground, flat on his back.

She hadn’t even moved. Had she?

He wiggled his toes inside his boots to ensure she hadn’t severed his spine. Harriet wandered over and licked his face.

“I wasn’t ready.”

Hawthorne quirked a brow, leaned down to offer him a hand up, and gave him another smile, this one more evolved than the last.

He accepted and pulled her on top of him. She somersaulted over his chest, landed behind his head, and snapped his arm like a whip.
Pop!
Incredible force tossed him into the air where he executed an unintended complete flip and crash-landed. He suppressed a groan.

On his back again. With a dead arm. And her standing over him without so much as a drop of sweat or a hair out of place.