Page 112 of Amethyst Flame
Anyway, the situation was simple: If I couldn’t get closer to Hive Will, then I had to bring him to me.
I walked right out into the street, between stopped cars, and into the center of an intersection that was mostly clear. The lights of the Strip created a half globe of atmosphere brighter than daylight, so I blasted upward with a thick, unrestrained shock of purple rimmed in virulent green to announce my arrival, skybeam-style.
Come and get me, fucker.
The people gathering on the sidewalks exclaimed “Ahh!” and “Ohh!” so inured to spectacle that they didn’t know real magic when they saw it. Did they think CGI was real too? Or were they all just that drunk?
“Pace yourself,” Dane warned as he drew his gun. I hadn’t heard him get out of the vehicle.
I glanced over to find Jacob still in the car, head bowed, tapping wildly at his laptop.
A police officer approached Dane and me. “Whatever stunt you’re pulling, you’re going to have to clear out. I have no filming permits for today. And you’re going to be fined heavily—”
Dane looked like he’d been about to pull that badge again, but then seemed to change his mind. “Filming permit, Jacob!” he called.
The spectators on the sidewalks all had their phones up. Yeah, there was no way I was getting out of this anonymously. The original Gwumpki vid was one thing, but this? There were just too many witnesses, too many potential recordings.
The cop moved over to the Kidnapper. “And this can’t be parked here on the sidewalk.”
“The, uh, director will be here in twenty-five minutes,” Dane told the cop.
But he was looking down Las Vegas Boulevard.
So I did too.
Floating toward me five feet off the street was Hive Will. A malevolent sneer rippled his lips. He kept his elbows close, but his hands and long fingers were outstretched. His body zapped lightning all around him like some cheesy low-budget B movie.
For fuck’s sake. If I was going down, I was going down with a tentpole summer blockbuster.
I brought my hands together to form a blast of swirling purple energy. The buzz in my body climbed in pitch to a high hum of power, as if the bugs were stinging me on the inside of my skin. The heat of it seared like frost.
The crowd on the street made an “oooh” sound while I heard someone ask, “What movie is this for?”
The cop raised his hands at Dane. “You shut this production down now. You just can’t… You needpermitsto film in public spaces. You needinsurance. Every idiot thinks they can make a movie.” He went to the mic at his throat. “Requesting backup…”
I stopped listening when I saw the wild blue inhumanity in Hive Will’s eyes.
“Blink if you’re in there,” I shouted at him.
His wrists circled, forming a blue lash of thorny lightning.
All we needed was a rogue tumbleweed and some spaghetti western music. Maybe one of the bystanders videoing would add it when they posted the battle to social media. Of course, I’d be too dead to see it then.
Hive Will’s arm drew back, but I was faster…
Blasting was easy. I thrust my violet fireball with a shot-putter’s push. My aim in real life was usually shitty but my butterflies knew my mission and hurtled toward Hive Will.
The percussivepop!of Dane’s handgun meant he was fighting too.
Hive Will took the impact of my fireball with a lurch to his glide, and the bullets lit like bright white sparklers in the haze. But none of the strikes stopped him from sending a whiplash my way.
I formed the diamond of a [shield] with my fingers and stretched it wide as the blue energy collided, but lightning crashed against the purple shimmer and buzzed up my hands and into my forearms.
“Oooh,” went the spectators.
I glanced over at the happy idiots with their phones up to find that the cop’s irritated expression had morphed to one of furrowed uncertainty. His arms were floating up to his sides as if to keep the people back.
And it looked like some other guy—was that St. Croix?—was getting in the other side of the Kidnapper with Jacob. I shouldn’t have been looking at them because…
