Chapter Five （Flames）

CHAPTER FIVE (FLAMES)

GONZO

Hazel attacking Baz was good entertainment.

I could see the shiny eyes of awe in the other inmates. Their mouths hung open and slack—shocked and enamored with the first person who dared to attack Baz.

There wasn't a person in here who didn't think he would be better off dead. He was enemy number one. Yes, Bree was the bitch in charge of them , but the stories and hatred of Baz were stuff of legend.

Before my arrival, he'd woken up one day, and decided to kill as many people as he could find. It was a thirty-minute massacre that ended the lives of half the people in here.

The survivors said he sang and danced while doing it, doling out nothing more than a touch. That was all he needed to murder. It was also the one time people had seen him without his mask, but no one could agree on what he looked like.

The stories grew each day, with him becoming uglier each time. This week, people were saying he didn't have eyes, just empty sockets, and that he had snakes on his head like Medusa.

It was called the Turning Event. Perhaps because it was the turning point in the asylum, when things slowly went from organized, to chaos—Bree and her men raining terror down on the trapped rats of Verfallen, leading to the creation of the Four Wards.

I watched in rapt attention as Doctor Orson, our murderous therapist on staff, attacked Hazel. She couldn't keep up with his vampiric speed. I saw people root for her under their breath, "Come on, come on" . As her body spun in a violent dance, I witnessed a dark smile on her lips and a pleased sparkle in her eyes.

There was the Hazel I'd been expecting. The other inmates waited with baited breath, but I knew she was more than a pretty face. Any minute now, Orson's smile was going to disappear.

Orson lunged in and bit her. Spectators sucked in a sharp breath, thinking she'd failed already. Not a second later, Orson reared back with a yell, spitting flames on the ground. Fire came up from his throat, and his eyes watered. He clawed at his neck as Hazel kicked him in the back, sending him stumbling into a table as Nemo came at her.

The inmates were becoming incensed. Several ran out, going to collect others to bring in and watch. The crowd grew in an instant. Others leapt up and began screaming like maniacs—eyes bugging, spittle flinging from their mouth.

"Kill him!" they began to chant, pounding their fists on the tables as Nemo leapt over a table and stomped towards her. Everyone was hyped, thinking things were about to change, and that someone was finally going to save them. It didn't matter what Ward you were a member of—the universal desire to see the bad bitch and her three psychos dead brought them all together.

Nemo partially shifted, getting bigger and looking meaner. He was a nightmare. Skin split and peeled from his elongating mouth like burning paper curling from the heat. Claws and fur burst from his fist as he wrapped it around her neck. Her feet came up from the ground.

This scene was about to birth new nightmares to scream and sweat about during the night. A normal crowd would look away in terror. Instead, we leaned in like it was the best show on Earth. It was vicious entertainment like you could get nowhere else.

First, there was cracking—the fine bones in her throat were crushed beneath his massive, clawed hand. Blood flooded her eyes as she gritted her teeth and dug her fingers into his hand. It was hard to watch when just a moment ago, I'd been flirting with her. But I needed to watch.

Nemo swung Hazel's body beneath his arm and held her in place as he began to pull .

It was gruesome, as far as beheadings go. There was sinew stretching and snapping. There was a gush of red blood spilling onto the floor macabrely.

It was a startling display of ungodly strength and crisp rage. We were all getting a front-row show of what would happen if any of us was dumb enough to attack their precious, hyper-venomous basilisk.

Her head required some extra effort to remove completely. Nemo had to crack and tug to finally liberate it from Hazel's spasming body. He dropped her onto the floor, and it went down in the awkward way only the dead can. He then took the time to set the head upright on her chest, looking out at all the spectators. In death, Hazel's mouth was still gritted in pain.

Shock rippled through the room, followed by disappointment. I stretched my arms above my head while waiting patiently. I knew the fight wasn't over. I cracked my neck as I looked at her corpse. A smile spread across my face as I thought about what was about to happen.

"Nemo," Baz sighed in exasperation. "That is really not going to help the situation."

"What are you talking about?" Nemo growled. I noticed Baz's blood—black with a shimmering green quality. It was soaking into his pants and dripping on the floor under his chair. Little wet plops of venom that hissed and sizzled, eating through the floor.

Nemo stomped over, wrapped his massive hand around the knife handle, and pulled it out. Baz sucked in a breath and squeezed the top of his thigh. A dark sparkle of blood flew from the knife, careening through the air. Everyone scrambled—screaming, and running into each other like a startled stampede ready to kill each other in their panic.

I stayed right where I was, unconcerned as I watched the venom arch and land six inches from my arm. It sizzled, a faint trail of smoke slithering up like a snake. I could smell citrus and spice.

"Gonzo didn't even flinch," someone hissed about me as I focused back on Hazel. Any minute now .

Orson was still giving a raspy wail in the background as his mouth burned, leaving him with a lipless grimace. See ? I knew his smile was going to disappear.

"You don't understand," Baz groaned in pain, slumping in the chair. "She's my sister," he sighed.

Orson's wails stopped. The screaming stampede went mute, their eyes bugging. Nemo looked stricken.

The pool of blood around Hazel had heat waves wafting off it, making the air above it hazy.

"Sister?" Nemo whispered.

The decapitated body burst into searing, bright orange flames. I watched the fire dance. The flames moved smooth and fast, hypnotizing me. It calmed me but also filled me with a sense of power.

Some pyromaniacs lit fires because of impulse control. I wouldn't try to argue against that. My impulse control was shit. However, I wasn't just any cheap psychopath looking for chaos. I had some refinement, I liked to think. Pyromania was about more than causing destruction. It was awe and worship as well.

Her blood began to move, transforming into fire. Hazel was the embodiment of fire—powerful, destructive, and so very pretty. I was happy we'd finally got to meet.

Hazel's hand lifted from the ground. Her fingers threaded through her decapitated head's hair, twisting the locks around her fist. The room was full of tension, waiting on bated breath. Supernaturals were a tough bunch, but no one survived a beheading. No one but her .

"Fuck," Baz ground out. The girl engulfed with flames slowly stood up… holding her own head in her hand. The flames burned her clothes slowly, revealing red skin.

Her head came to life, looking manic with a large grin and wide eyes. She wheezed, pulling air in through her severed neck to push words through her mouth.

"So you don't want to die easily, brother?"

A wheezy, rasping laugh howled through her mouth as she placed her head back on. The skin healed in an instant. Her hair lifted and danced, whipping around like flames. Hazel's laughter grew strong now that she could use her lungs. The sound mixed with the deep roar of the flames.

The lightbulbs above her head exploded all at once from the heat. Her flames were the only light now. I could see them in her eyes, moving rhythmically. I couldn't look away from her.

"I think we should go," Baz suggested to his friends.

"Running?" Hazel asked, giving an evil grin to her brother. "I'd expect nothing less from a snake like you."

As she spat the last words, the inmates lost all decorum. It was chaos—howling, chanting, screaming, people ripping their clothes off.

"Kill them all!" they wailed. She began laughing again before she rushed forward, fully aflame, towards Baz and Nemo.

Baz fell over in his chair onto his ass and backpedaled on the ground away from her, holding his gloved hands up. Nemo reached down and plucked him up before taking off in a run. Orson followed after them.

Hazel left flaming footprints in her wake, disappearing down the hall after them in a full-on sprint. I couldn't help but notice the shape of her body behind the flames surrounding her. Murderous, manic, and mouth-watering? Nothing more dangerous than that.

"I'll kill your friends too, brother! I'll send you all to Hell where you belong!"

A riot was taking over. Even the most doped up, zombified patients knew that a power shift was going on. Bree's men had been in charge for who knows how long, and it hadn't gone well for the rest of us. The entire place was running on post-apocalyptic vibes and had birthed the creation of gangs we called Wards. They were groups banded together to protect their own from the cruel, hungry bitch and her three fuck boy murderers at the top of the food chain.

No one had dared to fight against Bree and her men for months. All the previous attempts had ended in carnage. They were a force unmatched.

Hazel had just become the single person to ever go against them and get back up. The only person who made them grab their wounded and run. The only person who laughed in their face after they tried to kill her, and promised to send them to Hell.

I could still hear her manic laughter as she raced through the halls after them. I shook off the lust and awe. Hazel, one. Baz, zero .

The intercom system screeched to life, high-pitched static bleeding into our sensitive ears.

"This is Doctor Stein," a warbled, deep voice came through. He patted the mic, and the intercom continued to squeal higher and higher. We all covered our ears and groaned in pain until finally, it cleared up.

"Please be welcoming to our newest patient, Hazel Fury. I'd appreciate no more beheadings to my newest test subject."

"So it really is another fucking Fury," someone spat.

"That is all," the warbled deep voice hissed through the screeching static. We all winced.

"When did he start announcing the new patients?" someone else asked. Good question.

I was going to need to deal with Doctor Stein soon. He only gave me my ability to shift again because he needed my system cleaned out. For what? I didn't know. I'd pay him a little visit when he was least expecting.

"Gonzo." Mad Dog Mick stepped up behind my chair. "No more fucking around with this packless bullshit. You're part of Rabids now." I pushed my chair back suddenly, and he hissed as it got him in the shins. Turning around with a smile, I enjoyed the anger radiating off Verfallen's Alpha wolf.

"Tricksters aren't pack animals."

"Well, you fucking are now," he ground out, getting in my face. Mad Dog wasn't very good at controlling his anger. "You can shift," he spat in my face. I wiped myself off, and he bared his teeth at me.

"What do you think is going to happen here?"

"You're going to join the pack."

"With you as my Alpha?" I asked. Mad Dog didn't much like the sparkle of entertainment in my eyes.

"You want to challenge me for the spot?"

"No." It was the last thing I wanted to do.

"Seems like you do," he growled.

"I have zero interest in Rabids, in packs, and in Alphas." The only thing I cared about was Hazel. I looked toward the hall she'd run down.

"Don't look away from me," he demanded. There was no getting out of this.

"Fuck off," I said, pushing him. No reason to be clever when the basics got the job done. A fist hit my jaw. I could feel the teeth in my mouth sharpen as I side-stepped his lunge. He barreled forward and I caught him by the neck, forcing him to continue his direction. His face slammed on the table, right into the evaporated puddle of venom.

His cheek rubbed the burnt spot. Not a second later his eyes bugged and he thrashed.

"Whoops," I commented. Mad Dog flung me off him as I chuckled. He was lucky the venom had burnt away, or he'd be dead. His cheek looked nasty—a blackened spot spreading over his cheekbone. He tried to hide the pain, but sweat was pouring from his forehead, and his eyes were bloodshot.

He came at me again. The man knew how to brawl. He wouldn't be Alpha if he didn't. I could feel the strength in the hit he had landed. He was mean and strong. And he fought like a Denny's bathroom boxer after an all-night bender. Dirty, to say the least. But even dirty fighters like him had lines they wouldn't cross. They had an invisible concept of honor that kept them from doing anything too crazy.

Maybe I'd purposely got myself transferred here, but that didn't mean I wasn't crazy… in a fight, at least.

There was a crowd around us, a circle of werewolves. I saw demons eyeing one another and leaving the room to find their leader. Great —attention I didn't want or need.

Mad Dog tackled me while I was looking around. He got in two hits, slamming his knuckles into my cheeks. There was sadistic joy growing on his face, even with all the pain he was in from a taste of venom. His tongue wiggled out between his thin lips as he punched me again.

I didn't want a scene, but the scene was here. Stein was to blame for this. He just had to give me the power to shift and make it a public event. Now, I was dealing with Ward drama when I was supposed to be getting closer to Hazel.

I let Mad Dog get one last hit in—might as well let the guy enjoy himself one last time before I destroyed his life. His fist hit my ear, and I heard static. I hit him back in the throat. His neck was crushed, and he began wheezing. Then, it started to swell, and his face turned blue. I kicked him off me and stood over him.

I had to make sure he never tried to fight me again, but I couldn't kill him. If I killed him, they'd force me to be Alpha. They could shove that role up their ass.

"Well, Mick, you just had to bother me after that interesting beheading. It's making me feel like liberating something of yours." I stretched my mouth into the meanest smile. He was trying to breathe beneath me. The best he could do was glare at me while suffocating. He'd heal soon enough and be fine. I had to leave a stronger impression, something embarrassing.

I reached down, tugged his pants down, and gripped his balls in my fist. His eyes managed to bug even more, I was worried they'd pop out of the sockets.

"Don't ask me about the pack again," I growled before ripping them off in a single downward twist. I threw them over my shoulder and heard a wet plop as they smacked the floor. Then, I pulled his pants back up. No reason to leave the man indecent.

I turned to leave and faced a wall of werewolves.

"Finish Mick," a woman growled at me. I pushed through their barricade and walked away, brushing my bloody hand on my clothes.

"No thanks," I said.