17. Ward

At first, I thought the smell of smoke was all in my head. It blended in with the thoughts—memories—of fire that consumed me. They were so real, ripped out of the corners of my brain with such force that I was helpless to do anything except endure them.

But then, suddenly, the psychic attack eased and I realized that the smoke tickling my nose was real.

Crimson glared at me. "Are you doing that?"

I rolled my eyes. "Powerless, remember?" My voice was raspy, barely existent, thanks to the screaming I'd been doing. "Sure it isn't you?"

"I told you, I don't have that part of your powers, and I have not yet acquired it." He was quiet for a moment, contemplating. "No, I'm certain it hasn't transferred." He removed his helmet and rose from his seat. "But perhaps…"

We spotted the lick of flame by the window at the same time. I jolted against my restraints while Crimson stared at it, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. As if our notice encouraged it, the flames flared higher. Another flash out of my peripheral vision told me that there was fire near the other window as well.

"Control it," I ordered.

He shot me an incredulous look. "Did you miss the part where I said I can't?"

"Well, staring at it isn't going to put it out. Either get an extinguisher or—no, fuck the extinguisher, it's too much." I coughed as the smoke intensified. My eyes burned, begging me to blink, but the goddamned contraption that kept my lids pried open was still in place. "We need to get out of here. Unstrap me."

Crimson huffed, still looking at me like I was an idiot, and reached for a walkie-talkie on the table. "Harding, come in." He paused and released the button, but nothing but static came over the line. Harding was the minion with the weird face, who'd slipped out of the cabin some time ago, though I couldn't have said when.

I coughed again and rattled my chair. "Don't waste time with that, goddammit!"

Unsurprisingly, he ignored me. "Harding"—he cleared his throat—"come in. Right now."

When there was no response again, I growled, "He's not going to answer you. Hell, maybe he got tired of working for you and set the fires."

"He wouldn't do that. He's loyal."

"He's going to loyally leave you to die." I desperately wanted to shake my head in an effort to clear the smoke from my eyes, but I couldn't move. "Jeffrey, please. We need to get out."

He threw the walkie-talkie down on the table and braced his hands on his hips, his head lowered. No doubt running through his options, which were dwindling rapidly. The fire wasn't slowing down. The heat was starting to dry out my eyeballs, an exceedingly horrible sensation.

Without a word, Crimson grabbed his machine and his laptop. He fought to open the door for a second, then I watched in disbelief as he exited into the cold, rescuing his goddamned machine before me. Why the fuck was I shocked? I shouldn't have expected anything different.

After a few seconds, he returned, but instead of unfastening my straps, he moved behind the chair, tilted it back, and proceeded to drag it toward the front door.

I'd had a faint hope that he'd undo my bindings and I could engage in a little fist-to-face combat, but no such luck. The man wasn't stupid. He pulled me outside, the chair bumping over every obstacle, making them feel like mountains. The stairs leading down to the drive were the worst. The thuds reverberated through my entire body, triggering aches to flare up that I hadn't even known had started. Finally, we reached the ground, and Crimson grunted as he dragged me to a decent distance from the cabin.

Other than the crackling of the fire, the night was far too quiet. The light, the smell, the sounds, it all should have brought the minions rushing to Crimson's aid. But there was no one around.

What the hell was going on?

Crimson glared at the trees surrounding us, as though the evil look alone would summon his lackeys. "Where is everyone?" he muttered.

"Now!" The shout ricocheted around us, making it impossible to pinpoint its origin. But I recognized that voice.

Dev.

A wave of heat hit me, making the chair shudder. My back was to Crimson, so I couldn't see what was going on, but I could hear his shout of surprise, his grunt of effort, and Hallie's cry of alarm.

"Dammit!" I had to get out of these fucking—

Suddenly Dev was there in front of me, working at the bindings on my legs. I couldn't get a good look at him, given how my head was held immobile, but from what I could see, he was pale and drawn, and holding one arm tight to his side, barely using it.

"You were supposed to run," I growled at him.

"See, that's the reaction I was expecting." He shot me a brilliant and totally inappropriate smile for the situation we were in. "Blame Hallie."

"She's fucking seventeen. You're the adult. You should—"

"Have agreed with her and come back to get you, you're right." He undid the straps on my arms next. "That thing on your face holding your eyes open looks awful."

"It is awful. Please get it off."

I rubbed my wrists as he focused on the face thing, as he so eloquently put it, and the strap fastening my head to the chair. I would never take blinking for granted again. I held my eyes closed for a second to replenish their moisture.

"Can you shoot a gun?"

I blinked my eyes open. The burning had eased a little. "Not my favorite thing to do, but—Holy shit. You're shot."

"Yeah. Which is why you need to take this." He lifted a rifle by its carrying strap and swung it in my direction. "I can't hold it steady enough to fire."

Automatically, I took the gun and slung the strap over my shoulder, completely focused on the giant fucking hole in Dev's shirt. And the blood. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"Yeah. After. Hallie cauterized the wounds. I won't bleed out, but not gonna lie, it doesn't feel awesome." He held my gaze for a moment. "And you?"

"I'm on the ‘doesn't feel awesome' train, but I can shoot a gun." Though my aching head might not appreciate the sound of the gunshot, but that was a minor thing compared to everything else going on. "Stay here. You did your part."

I knew things truly were dire when he sank to the ground instead of arguing. "Yeah, okay."

I turned my attention to the battle raging a hundred feet away. Hallie was doing her damnedest to fight, but it was obvious she didn't have any formal training in how best to use her abilities. She was holding her own, though, firing off blasts of heat and dodging Crimson's bolts. More than a few trees had been felled by his misaimed shots, the remnants of their trunks smoking.

I held the gun up to my shoulder and bellowed, "Freeze!"

Crimson looked over his shoulder at me. "A gun, Ward? Isn't that a few steps down for you?"

I ignored his jabs and gestured with the barrel. "Jeffrey Crimson, you're under arrest. Stand down."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hallie emerge from cover, a wide smile stretching her lips.

Crimson saw her too.

It was like the world shifted sideways, to a dimension where everything moved in slow motion. Crimson grinned, the expression spreading across his face at glacial speed, evil glittering in every tooth he revealed. He raised his arm and fired a bolt directly at Hallie. She was too far from cover. Too far from safety. It was going to hit her, and it was going to destroy her.

No.

That was my power Crimson was wielding, and I refused—refused—to let it kill someone I cared for.

I reached out with my mind. The strain was undeniable. Indescribable. But it had to be done, no matter the cost. I would reclaim my power, if only this little bit, to save this one person.

My mental hand latched onto the bolt, and I yanked the psychic energy of it out of Crimson's control and into mine. It burned, god, did it burn, but I had it. For a moment, I felt whole again. Then fire licked at my brain, and I knew I had to release it. I couldn't hold it inside myself like I once had, ready to be called out when needed.

Crimson whipped around when the bolt disappeared. I don't know what he saw in my expression, but his eyes widened. Probably at the blood I could feel dripping down my lips to my chin, pouring from my nose. Still in slow motion, he opened his mouth to say something, to shout, but I didn't wait to hear what would emerge.

Instead, I released his bolt, enhanced by the bare remains of my power, directly at him. It hit him with an all-consuming light, and I bore witness to Jeffrey Crimson turning to ash before my eyes.

In my brain, something popped, and the world fell away.