Into the Fire (The Mieshka Files, Book One) (25 page)

“The crystal wouldn’t have transferred if it didn’t want to.”

“Speaking of crystals, where are the rest?”

They rounded on the wall safe.

“We cannot open it,” Roger said.

Sophia shrugged a shoulder at the Earth Mage.

“That’s your department.”

The Earth Mage opened his eyes. With a wrenching of metal, the door went flying off. The crystals glowed inside.

Sophia stepped into action.

“Right. Aiden, each of us takes our crystal and books it to our engines. We need that shield back.”

Buck handed him his fire crystal. Heat sank into Aiden’s hand. Sophia’s voice drifted into the background as he met Buck’s eyes. They both glanced at Mieshka.

She stood off to the side, hunched into the wall, hugging herself. She looked cold. Except Aiden could feel the heat wrapped around her. To stand next to her was to stand next to a bonfire lit by jet fuel.

“Mieshka?”

She nodded slowly, shoulders rising as she took a breath.

“There’s too much,” she said. “I feel like I’m going to burn up.”

He knew what she meant. A crystal was an awful lot of power to carry. Aiden’s mouth grew tight. Taking a few steps toward her, he felt the magic that singed the air.

“I’ll fix this. Just hold tight.”

Mieshka nodded. She pulled the cuff of her sweater over her fists.

“You need to fix the shield,” she said.

“Yeah. We’ll take you back with—”

She was shaking her head. “No. I want stay here.” There was vehemence in her voice. Just what had happened when he’d been locked away? What had happened to her?

“Why?”

Her smile was small. Her eyes were dark. Water hissed when it touched her skin.

“I promised Redenbacher I’d bomb his office.”

CHAPTER 16

Adam’s security clearance wasn’t authorized for Redenbacher’s office. Mieshka melted the security box. Afterwards, there was no problem.

Mieshka rested her forehead against the wall. It wasn’t long before it warmed. Whatever painkiller the Phoenix had provided had worn off. Her shoulder and finger might be healed, but she was feeling the rest of her bruises.

Jo stood on the other side of the door, switching guns. Water dripped from her rough ponytail. Her dark skin shined. As Mieshka watched, Jo put her assault rifle on the floor and pulled out a handgun. She wouldn’t need it, Mieshka thought. There was enough fire in her soul for the both of them. Jo’s eyes met hers.

“You okay?”

Mieshka managed a nod. “I think I can handle it. Aiden will fix the fire… thing.”

The air shimmered with heat between them.

Jo stared at it, then flicked her eyes back to Mieshka.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Mieshka swallowed. Held her breath for a moment.

“I hurt people today, Jo. Am I supposed to be okay?”

“I’d be worried if you were. Abuse of power and all that.” Jo’s attention turned back to her gun. “You didn’t kill anyone, anyway.”

Mieshka’s laugh was hollow. “The night’s still young.”

Memories of the cenotaph came back to her. Screams. Smoke. Singed clothes. Burned flesh. Gunshots. She tried not to think about the blackened, bubbled skin. One man hadn’t moved when they’d come back. Jo assured her he was breathing.

They probably hated her.

She felt sick.

Movement made her look up. Jo closed the gap between them, arms open. Without question, Mieshka moved into them.

The hug was awkward. Guns pressed into her chest. The Phoenix didn’t hurt Jo, though the former soldier tensed at the heat. Two silent tears crept down Mieshka’s face. After a moment, she sniffed. Jo smelled of gunsmoke and peppermint.

“You did what had to be done. It’s all we ever can do.” Jo’s arms squeezed tight. Their strength reminded Mieshka of her mother. Her throat closed around the link. “We’re almost there. You should get a bulletproof shield up, if you can.”

She could. Heat rose around her, giving the elevator a sudden smell like cooking sand. Above the door, the elevator’s electric numbers blinked in red. 25. 26. 27…

“THIRTIETH FLOOR; EXECUTIVE SUITE,” said the elevator.

The doors rumbled open. The elevator spilled its mercury-bulb light into the surprisingly dim office. Mieshka waited, letting her eyes adjust. Remembering the layout of the room, she stepped forward onto the threshold.

“I was wondering when you’d come.” Redenbacher stood by the window where she had left him, glass of liquor in hand, his speech slurred.

“I had some business to take care of,” she said.

“As do I.” Redenbacher looked to the other side of the room. Not at her. Mieshka followed his gaze in time to see Gerard fire his gun.

Bang!

Fire flashed in front of her, spitting from a point in front of her face. Blue dots flashed in her vision. Her ears rang. Jo shoved her aside and returned Gerard’s welcome. Ears ringing, Mieshka watched as Gerard fell. Blood splattered on the window behind him, wicking into a deep crack. Trust Redenbacher to have bullet-proof glass for his office.

That was the second time she’d seen his blood today.

“Keep an eye on the drunk,” Jo said as she moved past, gun aimed steady. Mieshka looked back to Redenbacker, who raised the glass to his lips.

Mieshka’s hate returned.

She walked forward, trailing a hand over the back of his nice leather couch. Acrid smoke rose to her touch. Hate lessened the fatigue.

“I got the crystals back. Freed the Mages,” she said. “They’re fixing the shield.”

“Saved the day, didn’t you?”

There was no mockery in his voice, but his voice had a dryness that did not mix with his alcohol. It turned something in her heart.

The ringing in her ears subsided, replaced by Gerard’s ragged breaths. Lines of blood leaked down from the window. The carpet underneath him had gone darker. Moist.

Redenbacher stared at the horizon.

“Do you see that?” he said.

Behind him, the city lights illuminated the dark sky. Only the brightest stars shone through. She followed his gaze to the mountains, straining past all the lights. She recognized the defiant peaks of the Twins. The Scorchio constellation burned bright above them like pins in the sky.

“See what?”

He lifted his drink to point, the glass tapping loudly against the window. She stared harder. Was he drunk?

And then she saw it. One of Scorchio’s stars was moving. A plane.

There was no way they’d had time to reboot the shield. She could feel it.

A different kind of ringing began in her head. She started to shake. It was not a soft shake. Her eyes went wide, following the plane’s path. It sped over the valley’s lights like a jet-powered hawk above a feast.

The Phoenix shook, too. Her control slipped. Fire crawled up her clothes and kissed her cheek in gentle heat.

“I looked you up after our last meeting,” Redenbacher went on, oblivious to the danger. The alcohol was dark in his glass. “I’m sorry about your mother. You can understand why I want to protect my family.”

He couldn't have picked a worse topic.

“I will never understand.” she said.

The liquor cabinet went first. Lacquered wood caught like kindling, freeing spirits with a soft
whumph
and the shatter of broken glass. In the reflection of the window, she saw it blaze.

Redenbacher watched it with a loose sobriety. It was maddening. She tipped fire into his glass, too.

He examined the burning drink. Calmly, he put the glass on his desk.

“I guess I won’t be drinking anymore.”

Her attention returned to the plane, its solitary light cold with distance. It blinked like a beacon. The Phoenix had an answer to that, too. Fire rocked the room. Redenbacher took a step. The cityscape wavered before her. She was the sun. Orange flames heated to blue. Mieshka raised a burning hand.

“Meese!”

Jo had abandoned Gerard. The bar’s fire put her muscled figure in a stark silhouette, outlining every gun and hard edge, every hair that had slid free of the bun. Mieshka’s fire reflected in her eyes. Wide eyes.

Gerard had the same eyes. She doubted he would ever underestimate her again.

Her hands stopped shaking. In her mind, she saw the end of her power. The Phoenix had near infinite power, but its wick was burning out. Maybe this Phoenix had lived long enough.

She pointed her burning hand to the sky. Fire burned a black hole into the ceiling above. Its cry was made of hissing air and crackling drywall. The plane was closer now, its light blinking a beacon for it.

Mieshka, haunted by the lives of ten million people, by the picture of her mother, by the grief of her father, let the Phoenix fly.

She was barely aware of things after that, only of the fire.

Fire enough to burn a thousand forests.

Fire enough to challenge the sun.

Fire enough for hell.

Meese collapsed. Like all her strings had been cut. The fire was gone from her clothes. Smoke rose from her prone form.

She seemed down for the count.

What the hell happened?

The bar burned behind her. Jo felt its heat on her back, like an open oven set to broil. Gun in hand, she looked back to Gerard. At this point, it was fairly safe to say that he wouldn’t move. Too much of his blood soaked the carpet for any heroics.

Redenbacher leaned back over his desk, one hand raised as if to shield himself.

Mieshka didn’t move.

He lowered his hand. “What did she do?”

Jo’s jaw tensed. Behind, something fell on the bar. A blast of heat hit her back. The smell reminded her of other fires, where burst trees had splintered, looking like they got kneecapped in the trunk. Singed sap had incensed a pine scent over the Front.

She rounded on Redenbacher, who was staring down at Meese with a mild shock and puzzlement concerning his face.

“You. You brought this.” She levelled her gun at him. He didn’t notice, still staring at the burning sky. The fire reflected in his eyes. Soon, its glow would consume them all like a midnight sun.

“What did she do?” he asked.

With a quick glance at Gerard, Jo knelt by the fallen redhead. Mieshka’s skin was hot, like someone who’d been by the campfire too long.

Jo felt a pulse.

Mieshka was alive, breaths shallow. She smelled of smoke.

Jo stood. Redenbacher was too close for her liking.

“What did she do?” he asked again, alcohol poisoning his breath.

She flipped the gun over. The movement caught his drunken eye. He watched as she slammed the butt into his face.

The wet smack satisfied some dark part of her. He flinched back late, scrabbled at his desk, and slid to the floor.

She bent down and pilfered through his pockets. Unarmed.

“Look. Outside.” Gerard sat against the cracked, bloodied glass. Her attention snapped to the hand inside his coat. She’d stripped him, though. There was nothing under the jacket but a bullet wound. She looked out the window.

Pollution put a haze over the city, giving the air a glow. Far below, a lot of vehicles crowded the curb in front of the Cyprios Skytower. The army, she thought. Late as usual.

“The sky,” he said.

She looked up. Her eyes grew wide.

There, spreading across the star-strewn deep blue, was fire. It drifted like ten thousand will o’ wisps, growing like the movement of a giant amoeba. Jo moved closer to the window, watching it spread. It was a forest fire for the sky.

“What did she do?” Gerard asked this time, not Redenbacher.

Jo could take a guess. The fire followed the same pattern as the Mages’ shield.

She glanced down at Meese, who did not move. Turning back to Redenbacher, she flipped her gun back around.

His eyes, though blurred by alcohol, fixed on the barrel as she pointed it at him. His mouth tightened. She’d done him a good blow to the jaw.

Fire seethed inside of Jo, too.

Redenbacher spoke. “You won’t shoot me. I didn’t…”

Jo did not smile. She had no sarcastic quip. Her face was stone. Impassive. Full of faults. She thought of shooting him, her hand on the trigger. Thought, too, of all the soldiers they’d encountered today. How many of them had died? How many lived?

“You brought this,” she said.

He flinched.

She hit him. The butt of her gun pummelled hard onto his upper back. He had nowhere to fall. He curled over from the pain and whimpered.

Gently, she cradled Meese’s small shoulders. As she dragged her away, the sprinklers spurted on. The wall of glass blurred with water, tilting orange into the city’s light.

The elevator dipped as Jo stepped onto it. Gently, she leaned Meese against the wall. Mieshka’s skin wasn’t as hot as before. Standing up, Jo stepped onto the threshold and took in the room.

Gerard watched her by the window. The bar fire had spread to the carpet. Her boot stopped the door from closing. She stared at him, considering her options.

Gerard held her stare.

She swore. Meese was making her too soft.

She spun a chair into the door to keep it open, and walked over to the bleeding man. Except for a tiny whine of pain, he didn’t protest as she dragged him to the door. She put him next to the couch outside the elevator, kicked the chair out, and watched while she waited for the doors to close.