Page 5 of Shield of Fire

With an almighty whoomph, the building exploded, the force so great it knocked me off my feet and sent me flying. I hit the old wall hard, dropped to its base in a heap, and curled into a ball to protect my body against the thick rain of brick, glass, and wood filling the night. The air was putrid, every breath laden with gritty particles that caught in my throat and made me cough. I breathed as shallowly as possible, fear pounding through my body as I waited for the deadly rain to ease.

When it did, the screaming began, a solitary voice that rose from depths of destruction.

A harbinger of what was yet to come.

I shivered, braced my good hand against the wall, and pushed upright.

There was almost nothing left of the beautiful old building.

All that remained of the two street-side walls were a few ragged bits and pieces little more than a foot or so high, while the back and side walls had partially collapsed. The internal structure was now little more than jagged fingers of wood and plaster that reached forlornly toward stormy skies, as if pleading for help against the flames that now crackled, unnaturally bright, through the remnants of the ground floor.

Strangely, the destruction hadn’t extended to any of the nearby buildings. Whether that had been intentional or merely a fluke, we wouldn’t know until we caught and questioned the bastard behind it all... My gaze went to the arch. The elf was gone. No surprise there, I guess. Only a very stupid man would hang around to gloat, and there’d been nothing in the elf’s demeanor to suggest stupidity.

I couldn’t see Cynwrig, but three of his attackers were partially buried under building rubble. Where the others were, I had no idea, nor did I really care at this point.

I pushed away from the wall, intent on looking for him, but had barely taken more than a few steps when the woman’s screams intensified. I stopped. I couldn’t walk away from her. If I did, she’d surely die, killed by the flames or the collapse of her floor into the rubble and fire below. It couldn’t be holding on by much; not given the devastation that lay all around it.

That same devastation made it dangerous for anyone to go into the building, but thankfully, I didn’t really need to. I sucked in a deep breath, then reached for the wind again and directed it into the building. Pain pulsed through my brain, a warning, perhaps, that I was reaching the end of my strength, be the cause blood loss or simply overuse of a very new skill. But nearing the end didn’t mean the tank was empty, and if I didn’t at least attempt to save that woman, I’d hear her screams in my dreams for the rest of my days.

I had some idea of her location, but a general “fetch” order would not work, as it might well grab the very thing that was keeping her floor upright.

I warily deepened my connection to the storm and lightly drew down its power, letting it infuse me as it had earlier. Once again, that network of neon air appeared again. The building’s remaining framework all but disappeared, becoming nothing more than black spots around which the neon rivers flowed. The fire glowed a ghostly green that was unhindered and untouched by the currents. As I’d suspected, there was nothing natural about those flames.

My gaze swept across the various neon streams, and, after a few seconds, I spotted the small shadow huddled in the jagged junction of two walls. I wrapped a finger of wind around her and gently lifted her up. Pain pulsed through my brain, and just for a moment, the wind slithered from my grip and the woman dropped. I caught her before she could hit the floor, but it was warning enough that I was not only reaching the end of my strength, but perhaps also pushing the limits of my control.

I sucked in a breath and then raised her again. She was no longer screaming, and her body was limp. I hoped she was unconscious rather than dead, but it was hard to tell from this distance.

I lifted her free of the building, past the piles of debris littering the road, and deposited her on the grass near the old wall, close to where I’d first been attacked... Fuck, my prisoner—was he still alive?

I couldn’t see him, but it was possible the force of the blast had sent him tumbling, just as it had me.

I hoped he’d survived, though not because I felt responsible for what might have happened to him. It was simply nigh on impossible to get answers from the dead.

I released the woman, then turned around. As I did, a figure emerged from the shrubs lining the left side of the road past the old streetlight, and my heart leapt.

Cynwrig.

There was a ragged cut on his cheek, and he was favoring one leg, but he was alive, and that’s all I cared about. He looked up, saw me, and even from this distance, the relief that swept his features was evident. I walked toward him; he met me halfway but didn’t say anything. He just wrapped one arm around my waist and, being very careful of my torn shoulder, pulled me close and held me tightly. I closed my eyes and let his warm strength wash over me, momentarily chasing away the pain and weariness.

“How many people were in the building?” I asked softly.

“Impossible to tell at this point, but all the apartments aside from Treasa’s were leased. She hasn’t used the apartment in months, though, thank gods.”

Treasa was his twin. “Couples or families?”

Please, don’t let there be families.

“Elven families rarely live outside the encampments, as they prefer to keep close to relatives so there’s always help with the kids. Aside from one elderly Ljósálfar couple, the tenants were all single businesspeople.”

I wondered if the woman I’d saved was one half of the couple. I hoped not, for her sake. Light elves might be emotionally remote beings—when it came to love, anyway, because they certainly did the whole hate and vengeance thing very well indeed—but they were very long-lived. It would surely hurt to lose someone you’d spent at least three or four centuries with.

“Were they all elves?” I asked.

“Yes. My father prefers not to have humans or shifters in his more expensive properties.”

He kissed the top of my head, then pulled back. That was when I noticed the people streaming out of the nearby buildings, heard the wail of approaching sirens, and saw the blue flashes of security lights as building alarms sounded all over the area.

“We’ll need to give Sgott a call,” Cynwrig said. “The IIT will have to deal with this mess, not the regular force.”

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