The Mark of Fallen Flame (Weapon of Fire and Ash) Page 7

  “I think so.”

  “When?” the blond demanded.

  “Last weekend, when I was out shopping with my mom,” she replied. The men exchanged a look of confirmation.

  “You haven’t seen him since then?” the dark-haired male asked. Emma shook her head. He frowned and her stomach dropped. Had her answer been disappointing? She wished she had more to offer them.

  The blond turned as if to leave.

  “What if I see him again?” she blurted out. They both stopped. “How can I get a hold of you?”

  The blond opened his mouth, but the dark-haired man raised a hand to stop him. He rifled through an inner pocket in his jacket again, this time extending what looked like a business card for Emma to take.

  She accepted it, looking down at the name first. Blaze Thomas. Beneath his name was a phone number.

  He stepped closer, leaning down to whisper next to her ear. The smell of pine and warmth filled her senses.

  “Stay safe, Emma.”

  He and his friend stalked off, leaving her rooted in place, feeling dazed.

  As she walked home, Rowek’s offer long forgotten, she felt a chill snake down her spine. The handsome dark-haired man—Blaze—had known her name.

  Yet she never said it.

  Later that night, Emma’s mother brought Chinese food home as her way of apologizing for not being able to pick her up from school. As they ate, her mother questioned her about her classes. Emma momentarily considered telling her mother about Blaze and the other guy outside her school.

  The conversation shifted when Emma told her mother about how several of the teachers mentioned the bombings. A school assembly was scheduled for later in the week to honor those affected and provide information about the increased security. Worry pinched her mother’s lovely face.

  “I’ve thought long and hard about you walking to and from school when I can’t be there, and I’ve decided that it’s too dangerous,” her mother said as she pushed a cashew around her plate. Emma looked up, trying to keep her face neutral.

  “It’s almost your birthday,” she continued.

  As if Emma hadn’t been counting down the days until she was eighteen.

  Her mother sat straighter, a resignation in her expression that made Emma’s heart leap. “I want to buy you a car.”

  Emma jumped up, her chair toppling backward to the floor with a crash. She squealed as she ran to hug her mother. Her lips were pursed in a tight smile, but she returned the embrace with rib-crushing strength.

  “Thank you so much, Mom.” Tears stung Emma’s eyes. Her mother was not as physically affectionate as Emma. Usually flinching away from the simplest brushes, a haunted look in her seafoam green eyes. Emma suspected that her only daughter entering adulthood might have had something to do with the sudden change.

  Her mother released her, eyes shining. She cleared her throat. “I thought we’d go car shopping this weekend.”

  Elation filled Emma. She didn’t want to wait to call Adrianna, but since she had still not heard anything from her, she decided it could wait until morning.

  Emma had a driver’s license, and her mother let her drive often enough that she felt comfortable behind the wheel. It was little things like that, that made her feel as if her mother didn’t mean to deprive her of normal, teenage life-events.

  Emma gathered their dirty places and placed them in the sink, grinning from ear-to-ear. Behind her, her mother said,

  “I also want you to carry this.” She held out a pink stick of pepper spray attached to a key ring.

  Emma gave a nervous laugh. “Why?”

  “Because with the bombings and whatnot, you can’t trust anyone. I can’t very well send you to school with a gun, and you can’t own one until you’re twenty-one anyway.”

  “I don’t think they’ll allow that either.” Emma nodded toward the small canister.

  “Leave it in your car, then,” her mother responded simply. Emma couldn’t think of another response, so she accepted the tube.

  An internal battle raged inside her, twisting her stomach into knots. She wanted to tell her mother about the dangerous golden-eyed man who had seemingly followed them, about the attack in the alley—all of it. But Emma knew how her mother would react.

  If she didn’t cart Emma off to a mental hospital right then and there, they would for sure be out of the state by midnight. The life she had grown so fond of would be ripped from her grasp yet again.

  Her eyes prickled, and she blinked away the tears.

  “Thanks, Mom.” Emma placed a kiss on her cheek before heading up the stairs, feeling as if the weight of her isolation would crush her entirely.

  7

  Levaroth

  The freaks had been outside the school. Their scent lingered in the air. They were circling. Either they had been looking for him, or they had been looking for her.

  The girl who smelled of sugar and radiated power like a walking sun.

  He wondered how she would react if she saw him again. If he revealed himself to her. Would she flee like most humans did, or would her power ignite within her veins?

  If it was true, then her power made her a weapon—her skin made her deadlier than any blade. He could be caught and bound, but only she would have the power to kill him. He needed to see her powers for himself. Then he needed to get her to trust him. If he earned her trust, then her power would be his. She would be his to control.

  There was something about her that sang to his blood—to his own power like a siren. Like their beings were of a similar material, and he needed to be close to her.

  It made him determined to get close. To push the boundaries between them. He needed to protect her. In the way one protected a possession. He would keep his vile pursuers from her.

  From a distance, he trailed her. Levaroth had fought to control his need to reveal himself when the blond oaf followed her home yesterday. To rip his head clean off his shoulders. But the older one, Blaze, he recalled, was the real threat. Fortunately, he had managed to shake him.

  He would keep himself hidden as long as he needed to. Feed further away to keep them guessing. Now that he knew Emma Duvall was on their radar, he would have to be watchful. If they discovered her power, they would do anything to possess her for themselves. Then they would destroy her. She would be too powerful for them to control. And whatever they couldn’t control, they tortured—killed, if they could.

  Levaroth heard a growl rumble up from his chest. They would not have her.

  He sat atop the curling, brittle shingles of a roof on a lonely, roadside bar outside the city limits. Rowdy laughter and alcohol covered him like a suffocating blanket. Even the gentle breeze could not cleanse the air. He homed in on the sickly-sweet aromas of lust and pride, drinking of them deeply like a man in the desert stumbling upon fresh water.

  He needed to feed after expending so much energy to keep his scent masked. His blood hummed with the need for bloodshed. A bunch of stumbling, loud drunks would have to do the trick. Not to mention it would lead his pursuers away from Seattle. But they already knew he could go anywhere. He didn’t want to risk being away from the girl too long, in case they decided to take her.

  The thought of them getting their hands on her made his muscles coil tight. A lion crouched and ready for the kill. He was in the mood for some theatrics. A wicked grin spread across his face as he leaped from the roof, landing on the gravel with the grace of a feline.

  He pulled the door open. The smells of stale tobacco and marijuana smoke mixed with urine and sweat assaulted his nostrils. A hushed silence filled the room, and a few curious glances met him where he stood.

  No one knew who he was or what he was capable of. That’s what made the hunt so fun. Levaroth strode toward the bar, wearing an easy smile.

  “What would you like?” the female bartender asked, her to
ne bored.

  The woman was in her late forties, with bleached blonde hair and sallow skin. Her t-shirt had deliberately been cut with a low V-neck to display her surgically-enhanced breasts.

  “What are you offering?” Levaroth laced his words with his least favourite capability. The woman shifted, the irritation dissipating from her wrinkled brow.

  Women already fell at his feet, willing worshippers of his ethereal beauty. When he used his special ability, they had no choice in the matter. Tough, hardened men would happily slice open their veins if he willed it.

  Several of the burly, biker-type men turned to face him, their slack-jawed expressions awaiting his instruction. The one closest to him swung around on the stool to face him, a thick, tattooed arm resting on his leg. A joint dangled between his lips. He didn’t look ready to commit his unfailing loyalty. His graying mustache twitched with impending violence. Levaroth smirked at the man, daring him to make a move.

  His gaze flitted back to the bartender. “A shot of whiskey,” Levaroth said.

  “Sure thing,” she purred, puffing out her chest. Lust burned in her stare, the air around her reeked of it.

  He wrestled against his body’s natural reaction to break something. Her voice was harsh, no doubt from the countless years of smoke filling her lungs. The bartender poured a finger of amber liquid into a smudged glass, then slid it toward Levaroth. He plucked it up from the table and tossed it back, barely tasting it. Alcohol was weak compared to the drinks served where he came from.

  Levaroth flung the glass at the woman, aiming just above her head. “Is there any part of you that’s real anymore?” he shouted. His sudden burst of anger sent a wave of clarity through the room.

  A trickle of blood ran down the wide-eyed woman’s cheek; sliced by a shard of glass. “Now, excuse me—” her voice quaked.

  The joint-smoking biker spoke. “All right asshole, that’s enough. Get the hell out.” He slid from his stool, pointing toward the door. The sagging skin made the tattoos covering his arms droop. Years of unchecked sun exposure and a human’s natural aging had turned him into a wrinkled, leathery version of what had likely been a man worth fearing.

  Levaroth didn’t move. Though his wings twitched behind him, he kept them hidden from view. No point in scaring them all to death in one go. He tilted his head side to side, the bones cracking like gunshots in the tense silence that hung in the room. The man stalked forward a step to grab him, as Levaroth’s hands lifted at his sides, palms up. His fingers curled into fists, and what little light there was, disappeared with an audible pop.

  “What the—” several occupants shouted. A few stumbled over stools, tumbling to the ground with resounding thuds. Only Levaroth saw each scurrying prey with perfect clarity. He didn’t need to light to see. He was made of shadows. Just as he didn’t require physical touch to kill. It was the frantic rhythm of a pulse as it sputtered out that made him touch his victims.

  Someone sprinted for the door, running blind. Levaroth intercepted him, grabbing him by the leather vest, and slammed him onto his back. The man choked on the air that was forced from his lungs. His terror coated the air as thick as molasses. Levaroth breathed it in with a sigh.

  “W-what are you?” the man sputtered, his eyes squinting to try to make out Levaroth’s form in his drunken state.

  “I am many things,” he whispered as he crouched over the man. “Nightmare. Monster. Beast. Death.” His fingers itched to wrap themselves around the man’s neck, to feel it snap like a dry twig.

  The man sniffled, and Levaroth rolled his eyes. The bigger the man, the more they snivelled and begged for mercy when death approached. Pathetic roaches. Humans are an infestation of creatures that seem to have forgotten their place in the universe.

  A light shone from behind the bar. Levaroth’s jaw clenched. He’d have to make this quick.

  He let his mind go; snapped the tether that held his inner beast. Fire flooded his veins, and his body welcomed it. He gripped sweaty flesh.

  A sharp twist, and then a satisfying crack. The man went limp.

  Levaroth moved like lightning, appearing behind the bar and grabbed the source of light from the bartender’s shaking hands. She gasped.

  “Technology just gets in the way these days, doesn’t it?” He snapped her iPhone in half, but the 9-1-1 call was already made. He had less than nine minutes to finish what he had set out to do. “You ruined my fun,” he growled, his voice more animal than human.

  Grabbing the bartender’s face with both hands, his nails dug into her soft flesh as she fought to back away. Her pulse beat wildly below his fingers like a drumroll. He focused on it.

  Felt it.

  Drank it.

  Within a few seconds, her body hung lifeless in his grasp. He let her drop to the floor in a heap before stalking his next victim.

  One-by-one, he cornered his scattering creatures and ripped their life-forces from their bodies, consuming them hungrily.

  Sirens wailed in the distance. Levaroth stood, scanning the room. Not a single living thing remained. His beast was sated, his mind calm and content. As he closed his eyes, the bar disappeared. When they reopened, Washington was far behind.

  By night he checked on Emma, keeping far enough away from her house to avoid her detection. Every evening, when darkness settled over Seattle, he watched her window. Her lean shadow silhouetted against the curtains. Every night, he stayed until her light went out.

  He found himself wondering what would happen if he got closer. Imagined her waking with a jolt, searching for his presence. Would she come looking for him?

  After a few days when those who hunt me realize I’m gone, they will leave, and I will be free to pursue the girl.

  On Thursday, after every light in the house was extinguished, he gazed at her window, drawing closer. It was a dangerous game, he knew. He couldn’t shake the urge to let her know that she was in his thoughts. That he watched out for her. Protected her.

  It was well past two in the morning when his cell phone rang. He glared down at the screen, a brutal slash of anger surging through him at the interruption.

  He paused at the name. This was not a call he’d receive unless there was news. In the day he searched for information regarding the girl that had caught his attention. Particularly her parentage.

  For that reason, he at last, pulled himself away, sparing a final look at the sleeping street.

  On the following afternoon, he decided he was done waiting. He brought himself to the school. After a thorough search of the area, he waited.

  After the bell chimed its last, the air grew rife with excitement. Young, smiling faces poured out of the building, eager to begin the weekend.

  Her presence lit the edge of his senses like a beacon. She followed a dark-skinned girl who descended the stairs on crutches, yammering away about something he couldn’t quite hear.

  But she froze, eyes flashing with surprise as she looked up, searching. Levaroth smiled to himself.

  It was him she sensed.

  8

  Emma

  Emma halted on the stairs, blood rushing in her ears. Rowek leaned against his car, arms folded across his chest. His buttery brown eyes were locked on her.

  He smiled, warm and dazzling.

  Adrianna had stopped too, tracking her gaze to where Rowek stood.

  “Mmmhmmm. Girl, you better go over there and see what he wants before I do.”

  Emma shook her head. “He’s obviously not sick. He looks fine.” So why had he missed several days of school?

  “Better than fine,” Adrianna murmured.

  With a sigh, Emma started moving toward him, her body tingling with recognition. Her heart pumped harder, as if she had been running.

  “You know school is a Monday through Friday gig, right?” Emma said placing a hand on her hip.

  “I might
have heard something about that,” Rowek answered disinterestedly. The sun broke through the dark clouds, and he shut his eyes, leaning his head back to soak it up.

  “I’ll never understand how you got into calculus with that attitude.”

  He peeked at her from under a single eyelid. “Aw, were you worried about me?”

  “You ditched me.”

  He flinched. “Something came up.”

  “Something that made you leave your car here?”

  “Yeah, my dad and I had to go out of town for a few days. But I wanted to make it up to you. I thought we could go down to the Sound to talk, and then I’ll take you home.” Emma opened her mouth to decline, but Rowek held up a hand to stop her. “Adrianna was going to give you a ride home, right?”

  “Yes.” She shot a glance at her friend’s idling car, parked on the other side of the lot.

  “So text her and tell her where you’ll be, and if at any point you want her to come pick you up, she can.”

  He opened the passenger side door in invitation. She stared into the car momentarily. The irrational anger she had felt when he had seemingly disappeared was gone. Now, she was looking forward to spending time with him again.

  After several beats, she pulled out her phone to tap a message on the screen. When she was done, she stowed it inside her backpack and then slid into the car.

  Rowek was behind the wheel before she could reconsider, the engine’s sleek purr greeting them. Emma gnawed on her bottom lip nervously.

  “Don’t worry grandma, I’ll go the speed limit,” Rowek teased.

  She forced herself to relax. Her mother would never know. The car cruised out of the parking lot, it’s engine roaring as they picked up speed.

  As they weaved through the afternoon traffic, a small smile curved her lips. She felt like a passenger in a race car, secretly wishing she could feel the engine’s full power.

  They reached Puget Sound in less than thirty minutes. Emma opened her door and climbed out, slinging her backpack over her shoulders.