Page 46 of Of Flame and Fate

Two boars with large tusks snort in challenge while the rhino behind them pushes his way between them.

My heart all but bursts when Shayna’s needles fly through the air andourwolves appear.

Koda’s large red body collides into the two boars now littered with needles, thrusting them away from us as they turn on him. She crawls away, scanning the demolished area for a new weapon to transform.

Gemini’s twin wolf leaps across the stage, his midnight color fur making him almost invisible in the bleakness. I barely catch sight of him, his speed and heavy build ramming the rhino charging toward me.

Strong arms wrench me out of the way, the familiar hold keeping me from reacting. Gemini pins me to the far back wall, using his body like armor to encase me. “What happened to you?” he says. “Jesus, you’re covered with bruises.”

“Johnny Fate is some kind of mystic. He hurt Destiny—”

“She’s safe.” He drags me down the stage and further away from the fight. “Bren and Tye have her and Emme.”

He whips around when the rhino tosses his twin across the floor, racing away from me and tackling the large beast.

“Taran, you have to go,” Shayna urges, sharpening a symbol from the drum set and transforming it into a medieval axe. “We’ve got this, get Johnny.”

I stagger backward, the increasing screams from the arena helping me gather my resolve. I shoot back stage and down the steps, shoving past a group of scantily-clad women scrambling to escape. I manage to find an exit door when I hear something behind me.

One of the boars, covered with needles and trembling wobbles toward me. He shouldn’t be dying, not like this. But here he is, his body disintegrating into a pool of vivid colors.

“Son of bitch,” I mutter, throwing open the door and taking off in a sprint.

My heels beat against the cement steps leading up to the rear of the arena. I made it outside, but I don’t know where I’m going, and can’t predict what may attack next.

People are running everywhere, some wearing headsets, appearing to be part of the crew, others members of the audience, searching for somewhere to hide or flee. I can’t imagine what they’ve seen. Personally, I’ve seen enough. That doesn’t stop me from racing forward, my body alert and seeking that pull from Johnny’s magic.

I reach a gated parking lot, my gaze immediately latching onto Johnny’s tour bus. A larger than life image of him sprawled across a bed is painted on the side. A crumpled white sheet is the only thing covering his waist and he’s making one of those pouty faces that’s supposed to be sexy. It doesn’t seem right, neither does the image, too sensual for someone who could easily pass for a teen.

The bus’s engine is running, the driver’s head jerking in every direction as he barks into his radio. I don’t bother to raid it or speak to the driver. If Johnny was inside, he’d already be gone.

I walk toward the other cars parked along the lot, trying to get a hit on Johnny’s mojo. It’s not until I pass a black Lincoln Town car that the tiny hairs along my arm tingle and I get a taste of Johnny’s pull.

It’s not a lot, just enough. I look toward my left where it’s fading, down a beaten path leading to a section of woods.

Damn it. I hate the woods. Nothing good besides Bambi has ever come out of that shit.

I crack my knuckles and lift my hands slightly away from my sides, stalking forward and preparing for anything that could attack. The tension consuming every nerve cell along my body surges with every step I take, adding an extra layer of pain to my throbbing injuries.

The woods, thankfully, aren’t very thick, nor are they too far from the highway. I can hear the honking horns and thrumming engines just ahead and to my right. It only takes a few yards for the trees to break and the path to open into a field of dry grass and the spindly weeds thriving beneath scattered rows of discarded plastic cups and crushed beer cans.

Cigarette buds are also a dime a dozen, littering the ground in front of me, and I have to step over what resembles a broken crack pipe just as the ramp leading into the arena comes into view. Awesome, if Johnny doesn’t kill me some amped up addict just might try.

My focus sharpens as Johnny’s magic sends my instincts on high alert.

I hear him, long before I see him, hunkering by a large stone and speaking fast.

“I don’t know,” he says, his voice shaking. “Just get me out of here . . . they took out my band— What? . . . These girls, Drake—No, not groupies—women. Super women or some shit. They took out my band. They’re dead. They’re Goddamn dead.”

His skin is bleached white and dripping with sweat, his tenor voice shrill. “Please, Drake. I know what I said. I’ll keep going . . . I swear, I will— Yes, another two years, whatever you want just get me out of here.”

Being positively stealth in these shoes, I crunch an old beer can partially buried in the soil.

He whips around, almost dropping his phone when he sees me. “You,” he rasps.

I don’t know what I expected to see in Johnny. Some defiance, yes. It’s what I’m used to. Anger too, it comes with the territory. I don’t expect fear, loads of it. But that’s exactly what Johnny Fate hits me with.

Like I said, he looks young. But fear makes you either age before your time or leeches your strength, reducing you to a delicate shell close to cracking.

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