Firebug (26 page)

“So?”

“You can't attack the hare in its warren. You have to draw it out to where it's vulnerable. That's what we're doing with Venus. She knows where we'll be and thinks she can surprise us, but to get us, she'll have to leave her safe and cozy den.”

“Why couldn't you've just called the Council?” Olive asked. I noticed that her eyes roamed everywhere, just like Sid's, even while she talked to us. Ever on the lookout.

“We had to make sure we saw the whole Council,” Sid said, keeping his voice low. “We don't know which ones are in Venus's pocket, so we had to make sure all of them heard our message.”

“They certainly don't make it easy on people,” I muttered. “Down to that dock to take a boat to the harbor. Why not bring the ship in closer? Why have us meet out there at all? It must be damn difficult for the locals to get a meeting with them.” I stopped. “Oh. I guess that's the point. Answered my own question.”

Olive was still digesting what Sid had told her. “So we're setting a trap. Still,” she said with a sniff. “You should have set
something
on fire so they knew you meant business.”

“Remind me never to cross you,” I said.

Ezra stopped, reaching an arm out for me. “I don't like the way it smells here. It's off, somehow.” That was the only warning we got.

They stepped out from around the van. Our assailants didn't melt out of the shadows the way the drove had. They clearly lacked that skill. Instead, their movements were jerky, like an action figure whose limbs have all been removed and put in backwards. They didn't move
right.

They approached us in a V formation, and as they got closer I caught sight of green-tinged skin and scraggly hair. I counted nine of them total. They were small, and they were dressed—what the hell?—like 1920s newspaper boys. They wore suspenders. And those little caps. If they hadn't radiated malevolence, I'd have been afraid they were going to bust into some sort of tap-dance extravaganza.

“What the fuck are those?” Sid asked.

A light breeze drifted our way, and Ezra gagged. “There's that smell. Like toxic rotting fish.” He gagged again.

“Vodyanoy,” Lock said, coming to a halt. “Or something similar. They're mostly aquatic, that's why they're moving so strangely. But let's make sure they're unfriendly before we do anything rash. Maybe they just need—”

I never found out what Lock was going to suggest, because at that point the creatures stopped their jerky, slow advance and came at us in a sprint. Though they moved awkwardly when they walked, the same could not be said of when they ran—they were like cheetahs on speed.

Two of them were on Lock before anyone could react. Sid tackled another. Ikka aimed a kick at one, but it wheeled away, just out of reach. Two slowed as they neared Ezra, circling him carefully. I don't think they liked the way he smelled either. Olive had her knife in her hand and was crouching low, one of the snarling green creatures orbiting around her. I could see its pointy sharp teeth, and I was reminded of Martinique on the yacht. We seemed to be meeting her friends.

I didn't have much time to reflect on that, though, because I had to deal with the two approaching me. A hissing noise escaped their mouths as they came close, and judging from the color of the drool, I was guessing that their bite did something nasty.

“Avoid their teeth!” I yelled. Twin fireballs, one for each hand, materialized above my palms. The two creatures approaching me backed off a little. Fire has that effect.

“No shit,” Lock said, kicking one away and sliding out from under the other. The creature sliced the back of his leather jacket to ribbons, but hopefully that was all it got.

“Well, I was going to,” Sid said, hurling one of the green men into a Volvo. “But now that you've mentioned it…” Just then, one of Lock's attackers leaped onto Sid's back and bit into his shoulder. He screamed, reaching back, but he couldn't get a grip. Ezra grabbed the newsie and chucked him onto the one Sid had thrown earlier. Its head snapped against the metal door, knocking it inconscious. I hoped the owner of that Volvo had really good insurance.

“That's what you get for being a smart-ass,” Ikka said. She was eying her opponent warily as they glided around each other. I started hurling fireballs at mine, tired of the fight already. They dodged them, and the fireballs hit concrete, leaving scorch marks on the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the flash of Olive's arm as she sliced with her blade. She was the closest to their size, but that seemed to be working to her advantage. We had to stoop and aim lower than we usually did, but Olive was right at eye level. From the look of it, she'd already landed a few good hits. Her creature was oozing a blackish ichor from several slashes.

I kept throwing fireballs, and they kept dodging. Fast little buggers. The two on the Volvo hadn't moved, but we still had plenty to deal with. Sid and Ikka fought with speed and precision, but so did the little green newsies.

Lock was wrestling an adversary on the ground. He rolled into a concrete curb, and as I watched he barely missed getting a blow to the shoulder. The creature's next swipe landed, though, and blood blossomed on Lock's shirt. I could have screamed—I felt like it. Instead, I stopped, ignored the two demented newsies circling me, and focused on the figure on top of Lock. Stuck in a wrestling maneuver, it wasn't moving around like the others. I was able to concentrate and imagine a tiny fireball in its chest, right where I guessed its heart should be.

Its heart wasn't flammable like a vampire's or melty like the ice elemental's. But all that meant was I had to work a little harder. The creature screamed and its chest exploded open, covering Lock in some sort of … goo.

Lock lay there sputtering, knocking what was left of the creature off of him. He rolled over and spit a chunk of something out. Then he started gagging and heaving, his face covered in slime.

Sid was bleeding pretty freely from his shoulder, but he turned to take on another opponent while Ikka kicked hers into a windshield. Safety glass cracked, long fissures spiderwebbing to the edges, but the newsie got up and went back to her, though he was moving slowly now.

I threw more fire, but the creature tracking me bobbed and weaved, inspired by his exploded friend to keep moving. Out of the corner of my eye, I checked on Olive. She had some scratches but seemed to be doing better than the rest of us. Her knife was bloody, and from the wheezing and the jagged gash her blade had caused, I could see her opponent was on his last leg. He gave her a greasy smile, and I felt my stomach clench.

That's when he spit. A mass of thick saliva hit Olive, covering most of her face. She screamed. A high-pitched, terrible thing that made me cover my ears. The newsies had an even worse reaction, dropping on the spot and curling their arms over their heads. Olive clawed at her face and continued to wail. That sound caused a rage to build in me—something so quick and hot that it felt like my whole body went nova.

Everything tunneled until all I saw was fire and vodyanoy. I didn't stop until the newsies were nothing but a twitching mess. They were covered in cuts, bruises, and contusions—marks lovingly heaped on them by my group. And what wasn't bruised and bleeding was blackened and burned. A whole mess of minions cooked medium well.

None of them would survive. I didn't care.

We piled into the van, Ikka at the wheel. Lock cradled Olive in the back seat while Sid used his undamaged arm to pour a bottle of water over Olive's ruined face. Ezra offered up his shirt to be used as a rag to wipe the toxic slime off. Olive whimpered, and I didn't blame her. What wasn't bleeding was turning green and oozing. Sid's shoulder looked the same way.

I tore apart the van looking for bandages. I found a small first-aid kit, the packages inside yellow with age, and I knew it wouldn't be enough. Ezra brushed Olive's face with his water-soaked shirt, and her scream hit so high a pitch that I thought the glass would shatter. I held the bandages in my hands and knew I couldn't do anything. I was suddenly overwhelmed—all I could see was blood, all I could hear was Olive's cries, and all I wanted to do was burn. But it wouldn't help. All these powers, all these gifts, and we couldn't help one hurt little girl. It made me wonder what good we were.

13

F
AMILY
R
E
UNIONS
AND
O
THER
P
AINFUL
T
HINGS

IKKA DROVE LIKE
nothing was wrong, though I could see the panic on her face. I held what was left of Sid's shirt to his shoulder, trying to staunch the bleeding. It wasn't working very well. Olive had passed out from the pain and lay unconscious in Lock's arms. Ezra held her hand, rubbing the pressure points and doing what he could to add comfort.

“Please tell me you heal,” I whispered. I didn't have much contact with weres besides Ez, but I knew that there were some differences between each kind. But I was hoping the speed-healing thing was one of the were-hares' gifts.

“Yeah,” Sid growled as I pushed harder on his wound. “But something tells me this whatever-it-is is going to fight us.”

“Head toward Bradbury Mountain,” Lock said as he shifted Olive in his arms.

Ikka looked at him through the rearview mirror. “But Duncan's cabin is—”

“I know,” Lock said with a sigh. “Just trust me, okay?”

The glance Ikka gave him was doubtful, but whatever she saw in him convinced her to head in the direction he asked. It went unspoken that, should Lock be wrong, and should the delay worsen Olive's condition, he would pay. I could feel it in the air—heavy and weighted.

Bradbury Mountain is exactly what it sounds like: mountain, woods, trees. About 800 forested acres of national parkland, according to Lock. We didn't go through any marked trailhead but instead headed up some sort of access road. After a short drive, the road turned into two glorified ruts. Then we hit a point where Ikka couldn't drive anymore. She turned to Lock for directions.

“Come on,” he said, sliding awkwardly toward the door, thrown off balance by the still-unconscious Olive. “We have to walk the rest of the way.” We all hobbled our way out of the van, ducking branches as we did.

“If you have any lighters, leave them here,” Lock said. “Whatever you do, don't so much as pull a leaf off any of the trees. Keep to the path, be careful of the plants, and for the love of all that you hold dear, Ava,
absolutely no fires.
” He turned on Ezra. “You. Don't chase anything. Leave the squirrels alone. No porcupines, groundhogs, or birds. And keep it in your pants. That goes for both of you,” he added, looking at Sid.

Sid turned to Ezra. “Are those two thoughts connected? Does he think we're harboring romantic interests in woodland creatures?”

Ez pursed his lips. “I assume that part referred to his family. We can ask for clarification if you think you actually need it.”

“I do not,” Sid said, and I could tell he wasn't sure if Ez was serious.

Lock had started walking up a barely visible footpath as he talked. I fell in behind him, a wary Sid and Ikka sliding in behind me.

“I mean it, Aves. Even if we're attacked or threatened—no fire.”

“I got it, I got it. Geez.”

He sighed like he didn't quite believe me, but he kept walking.

It was cold in the forest, especially under the branches of some of the bigger pines. Still, it was fairly sunny and the air was crisp. I could hear birds calling back and forth. It would have been really pleasant if half of us weren't bleeding to death.

I'd duct taped the wadded-up T-shirt to Sid's shoulder, but as I glanced back at him, I could see that the shirt was soaked. He smiled at me anyway. Ikka and Ezra appeared to be the best off, with only a few scratches and bruises. Except me. I was unharmed. I felt a little stab at that.

Olive whimpered as Lock hopped over a fallen branch. I winced at the sound. I hadn't known Olive long, but I knew it would take a lot to get her to make that noise. She was the stoic type. And she wouldn't be in this state if her drove hadn't been trying to protect me. First Ezra and Lock, then Cade, and now Olive—how many people were going to have to pay for me? When was it going to be enough for the Coterie? I pushed my guilt aside, concentrating on my feet as I walked. I could feel guilty later. Right now I had to pay attention to where I was stepping.

We arrived at a clearing and Lock stopped. It wasn't a big clearing, maybe just large enough to park our van in. Old-growth trees ringed us, and here, at least, the forest was silent. I wasn't sure why Lock had brought us here or why he'd halted. The clearing was empty.

He stood there quietly, staring at the trees, and though the rest of us exchanged curious glances, none of us said anything. After what seemed like forever, Lock cleared his throat.

“We're in a bit of a hurry, here,” he said. I don't know who he said it to, but it wasn't to us, I was certain of that.

A throaty voice came out from the underbrush, “Aren't you always? That's humans for you—always rushing about, never staying anywhere long enough to really learn anything.”

“Yes, well, that happens when you don't live for hundreds of years—you tend to feel a bit of pressure to do something.” The conversation had the air of an old argument. The voice laughed, and then a girl came out from behind a tree. She looked maybe seventeen and way too young for a voice like that. That kind of voice belonged in nightclubs and sultry evenings by the river. Not coming out of a tiny slip of a girl.

She had long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and the biggest brown eyes I'd ever seen outside of a cow barn. She was short, only coming up to Lock's chin, but she was perfect. Not movie-star beautiful, exactly. Her beauty was closer to seeing the first flower in spring, or a bubbling waterfall after the curve of a trail—natural, well-made, and for a second, overwhelming.