Page 116 of My Wild Horse King

“No?” I shake my head. “Those idiots?—”

But something drops down from the eaves above, zooming lower and lower, drawing near to Kat’s head. I’m not sure what it is—a spider? A bee? Without thinking, without preparation, I wave my hand and fling it away with air, and then I incinerate it with a bright flash of fire.

“What was that?” Katerina’s mouth gapes open. “You did it. You used a second power.”

“That spider was huge.” I yawn. “I think it was a spider. Did you see it?”

“A spider?” She shakes her head. “No, but I’m glad you got it away from me. I’m definitely not a fan, and that makestwobugs that have helped you tonight. I’m beginning to think all you needed all along was some insects.”

“It’s just water left.” I sit on the porch swing, my eyes heavy, my limbs trembling. “But I’m not sure I can do it. I’m tired, and my head’s alreadypounding.”

“You have to,” she says. “We’ll drive you around until you wake up, but it’d be better if you could get them all at once. Way easier than having a whole extra blackout period.”

“But water?” I shrug, closing my eyes and leaning against the side of the swing. “I don’t even feel anything vaguely resembling that.”

Katerina grabs my shoulder and shoves me. “Look. Gustav! Look!”

It’s hard to force my eyes open—I’m so, so tired, but when I do, I sit straight up on the swing.

That stupid flaming spider set a pile of leaves ablaze, and now there’s a robustly burning pile of detritusrightnext to Steve and Abigail’s home.

My head’s pounding like someone’s inside my skull with a jackhammer, and my eyes feel weighted with trains, pulling, pulling, pulling them down. But I can’t very well pass out while our new friends’ house is about to burn to the ground. I clench my fists, I grit my teeth, and I focus as hard as I can.

Nothing happens.

The flames spread, hopping to the base of the porch.

Someone in the house notices, and people start to pour out of the front door. They’re screaming. Someone’s saying something about a fire extinguisher, and I know they have some kind of hose. It’ll be fine, right?

It’s fine. They’ll get it put out.

Katerina stands up and backs toward the fire. “You have to save me,” she shouts. “Gustav! Help!”

I can barely see straight—there are definitely two of Katerina, but I can’t just let her walk into the fire. I have to do something. When I focus on the fire and trying to put it out, my hands burn. I’m sure there’s something I could do, something that would. . .

“Water,” Katerina’s shouting. “I needwater, Gustav.”

Darkness clouds my vision, but her face is bright and crisp. Water. She needs water. I can sense it, vaguely, all around me. On leaves. In the ground. In the air.

That’s when I realize that, unlike the flame, water can’t be manifested from nothing. It can’t just take over with one greedy spark. It has to be amalgamated from the tiny specks of water that exist all around me. Once I realize that, it’s easy. So much easier.

I reach out, like Aleks taught me with earth, and I feel for the water that’s close. That’s when I feel the Birch Creek, the tiny but fierce creek that runs along the back of the property line, and Ipull. I stream that water toward the blaze right behind Katerina, lighting her entire silhouette up so that it’s red as flame, just like her gorgeous hair.

Her face relaxes, and the fire winks out, just as I lose my focus and the whole world goes dark.

29

KATERINA

Driving around constantly for days on end brings new meaning to the word tiring. It’s practically impossible to sleep in the car, especially with seven other people, one of whom is quite large and also entirely unconscious.

When we turn on the news, it announces that Leonid Ivanovich, Czar of Russia, has decided to take a tour of the United States farm country. He’s studying American agriculture to figure out how best to optimize Russia’s ability to provide for its citizens. Yeah, right.

It’s a clear lie.

He’s coming for us.

And around the sixth day of driving, I start to worry about Gustav. Like, really worry.

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