Flameout Read Free Page B

with scars that resembled death’s scythe burned into their cheeks.
    Red cloaks. The
mad
kind.
    They didn’t run at me. They ran at Sam.
    â€œYou always were an untrustworthy bastard, brother dearest,” Sam muttered. With that, he pulled out a gun and began firing. Blood and brain matter sprayed across the nearby tree trunks, but it didn’t stop the tide.There were far too many of them for one man, and one gun.
    I cursed and reached for the force of the world, for the mother herself. She answered immediately, her energy wild, powerful, and difficult to contain. Not that I wanted to do that right now. I flung my hands wide and aimed her force at the cloaks. She surged through me and leapt almost joyously into the night, separating into multiple streams of flame that burned with all the colors of creation. Each finger hit one of the red cloaks and wrapped almost lovingly around them. Her flames pulsed, briefly darkening, as if in distaste.
    Then she burned.
    In an instant, the cloaks were little more than cinders fluttering gently to the ground.
    When they were all gone, I released my hold on the mother. Her flames shimmered brightly for several seconds, then dissipated, the energy of them returning to the air and the earth itself.
    Weakness washed through me. There was always a cost to calling such power into being, and this weakness was just the start of it. If I ever held on to her for too long, she would drain me until there was nothing left—no heat, no flame, and no life. She would take me into her bosom, into the earth itself, and there would be no escape. No rebirth.
    Not
something I ever wanted. I might be tired of the curse that bound phoenixes to endless lifetimes of having their hearts broken, but I wasn’t yet tired of life itself.
    I spun, dropped to the ground, and, even as the magic surged toward me, sent a lance of fire at thenearest black stone. Its surface began to glow as my flames hit it, but it didn’t immediately move out of alignment. I swore and pushed harder; the color of my flames changed from orange to white, but it seemed to make no difference. Then, just as the magic began to twine around the fiery edges of my spirit form, the stone exploded. Sharp splinters speared through the night and a shock wave of energy sent me tumbling. I hit the ground and skidded along the dirt for several yards, ending up in flesh form and hard up against the trunk of an old pine.
    I winced as I rolled onto my back. “That fucking
hurt
.”
    â€œHitting a tree
that
hard generally does.” Sam squatted beside me. “You okay?”
    I opened one eye and glared up at him. “Do I look okay?”
    The smile that briefly teased his lips was a pale imitation of the one that sometimes haunted my dreams, but I was nevertheless happy to see it. It meant that, despite the shadows in his eyes, despite the darkness I could almost taste, he was in control.
    â€œYou look pale, tired, grubby, and your lovely red hair rather resembles a bird’s nest.” His smile grew a fraction, briefly touching the corners of his bright eyes. “But other than all that, yeah, you look okay.”
    I snorted and sat upright. His hand hovered near my spine, not touching me, but close enough that I could feel the chill radiating from his skin—another gift of the damn virus.
    â€œIf Luke wasn’t actually here, how did he know we were? Was there a camera attached to the speaker?”
    â€œNo, but there was a microphone.” He rose and offered me a hand. “There must have been some form of alarm in the casket that let him know when we opened it.”
    I gripped his fingers and allowed him to pull me up. “But how did he know we were going to be here tonight?”
    Sam released me and stepped back. I couldn’t help noticing that the hand that had held mine was now clenched, as if to retain the lingering heat of my touch. Or maybe
that
was just wishful thinking by the