In Smoke And Ruins Read online

  “Knife,” I whisper. I tuck my pistol into the back of my jeans and hold my palm out flat, not taking my eyes off the window. Seconds later, I feel the weight of Soren’s knife in my hand. I flick open the blade. The pane is loose, and I wedge the blade against the corner of the glass and the frame, wiggling until the edge is free. I slip the glass out, reach inside, and unlock the window from the inside.

  “Nice,” Soren whispers.

  I smile as slip quietly inside. As soon as my feet hit the cement slab on the ground, I spin, but with no warning, Soren jumps down, and I have to dodge his feet so that I don’t get knocked over.

  “Sorry,” he whispers.

  “You could have warned me you were coming,” I mutter back, and he just smiles. For a second my heart breaks for him. He looks so much like Elijah in this moment, smiling when the world is falling down around him. Only now do I realize that Soren is and will always be the Soren that I grew up with. Nothing about him was lost when he jumped bodies. The only thing I thought might be missing was the bond with him that I’d shared, and looking at him now, I realize it’s more present than ever.

  I wish I could tell this to Elijah. I look at the ring on my finger for a second. I miss you, I say in my mind, hoping Elijah can hear it.

  The moment that Soren raises his weapon, I become aware of my surroundings. The darkness feels like it has weight, and; I can feel it on every inch of my skin. We’ve just entered a den of shadow-walkers, and we have no idea what we’re going to be met with once we make it inside. He flicks his fingers, telling me without words to follow him.

  Scanning the room, I see lumps of furniture covered in stained white sheets that have yellowed over time. Dust motes we stirred up upon our entry fill the air. We notice an old paint-chipped door at the top of a stairs with light peeking around the corners. A small set of stairs stands in front of the door. We make approach the entrance quietly. All the while, an eerie feeling creeps over me.

  The first step creaks loudly, and Soren freezes. We stand there for what feels like forever, listening for any disturbances before we finally continue.

  When we reach the top, Soren tries the doorknob and finds it unlocked. Odd. I frown as Soren pushes the door open an inch or two.

  Soren is the first to cross the threshold. I can’t see past him into the house, but it must be clear, because he slips through the crack in the door and disappears. I rush in behind him as quickly as I can without being too loud. We’re in a large empty kitchen it’s almost desolate even. I spot Soren crouched behind the island in the center of the room.

  I take a deep breath and release it slowly and evenly as I move silently into the room. I make sure to close the door to the basement so that no one becomes suspicious. I tap Soren on the shoulder, letting him know I’m behind to him. He spins quickly, a finger to his mouth, and points in the direction of what I assume is the living room. I follow his finger and just barely peek my head over the island. I see three shadow-walkers standing in the middle of the room, breathing heavily. There are two males and one female. Something about them doesn’t seem right. They don’t look like any shadow-walkers I’ve seen before.

  They look… sick.

  I kneel back down next to Soren, my brows furrowed. From the look on his face, I can tell he has no idea. It’s almost like they’re dying. In the quiet of the house, I can hear the ragged breathing coming from their lungs.

  Heavy footsteps sound at the front of the house.

  “All right, you fucks,” a deep voice says. The words are followed by a thud. In an instant, the shadow-walkers become ferocious. They scramble like starved animals toward whatever was thrown in the center of the room. It’s not what I expected.

  I see a girl not much older than twelve. She’s bound, her mouth covered with silver tape. I lock eyes with Soren, shaking my head. He pleads with me, his eyes telling me to wait, but he knows I won’t. Soren and I have been through too many battles together for him to believe I wouldn’t let myself die to save her.

  I take another look, and this time the girl locks eyes with me. Tears fill them as she starts screaming, the sound muffled by the tape. She’s screaming for me, I know it. The shadow-walkers surround her, nearly foaming at the mouth to get close to her. I don’t understand why they’ve held off until I glance at the man who brought the girl in. His hand is raised, clearly telling the demons to wait. So many questions roll through my mind. Is he feeding them her fire? Who is he? Is this why so many unburnt have been disappearing lately?

  And why the hell are the shadow-walkers listening to him?

  The man begins to lower his hand, but before he does, a shot rings out from beside me. I look up. Soren is standing; his weapon still aimed at the shadow-walkers in the living room. The man ducks, flinching from the bullet, as one shadow-walkers falls dead to the floor, the bullet exploding its body into flames. The little girl screams from behind her taped mouth.

  At once the shadow-walkers charge us. I fire a bullet into one shadow-walker’s head. It flings him back as his dark blood sprays the wall behind him.

  “What the hell? Who the fuck are you?” the man yells. Soren shoots the next shadow-walker, and before it even has a chance to fall, Soren has crossed the room to the man stuck frozen near the front door.

  I rush to the girl as Soren brings the man down, throwing him to the floor.

  “Fuck you, Sicarri. I should have smelled you,” he spits after Soren slams his knee into the man’s spine. He’s bleeding from his mouth, the blood coating his teeth like thick strawberry syrup. Soren binds his hands behind his back and then gives him a solid kick to the mouth, effectively knocking him out.

  “Are you okay?” I ask the girl, unbinding her legs, then remember her mouth is sealed shut. I abandon her leg bindings, and carefully I remove the tape from her mouth.

  “Where am I?” she asks, her big green eyes piercing mine.

  “You’re safe,” I tell her. “We’re Sicarri.”

  “But where? Where am I?” she begs.

  “Kansas. Near Wichita,” I say.

  “Wichita,” she whispers, and then she shuts her eyes tight, mouthing the word over and over. I place a hand gently on her shoulder. As soon as my skin touches her bare shoulder, she flinches, like I’ve startled her.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask. I make a show of my hands, raising my eyebrows in question. I don’t want to startle her again. She nods, and I pull out the knife Soren gave me earlier. In one swift movement, I slice through the rope around her wrists. From what I can tell, they haven’t had her a long time. The rope burns around her wrists are raw and new.

  “I’m gonna check the rest of the house,” Soren says quietly. He’s immobilized the man with zip ties, making it impossible for him to move even if he were awake. Soren must have stuffed them in his pocket earlier, because I had no idea he even had them. That’s Soren for you, always prepared.

  “I’ll stay here. Yell if you need me,” I say. “What is your name?” I ask the girl, who rubs at the tender skin on her wrists and ankles.

  “Mya.”

  I take in her disheveled, braided hair. It’s a light sandy-blonde color. “I’m Karina, and you’re safe with me.” I tilt my head at the man on the floor. “Do you know him?”

  “No,” she mumbles.

  “Do you know why he took you?”

  “No.” A quiet sob seeps from her throat.

  “Okay. That’s okay.” My voice is steadier than it should be. Some time passes as Soren checks the house and the perimeter, his boots the only sound that breaks the silence. I let the girl calm down, sitting close but not too close. I want to give her enough space so she’s comfortable.

  “All clear,” Soren shouts as he rejoins us. “I called Marcel. He’s coming to help,” he says, crouching beside Mya. “I’m Soren.” He holds out his hand for her to shake.

  She reaches out after hesitating a second. “Mya.” “You’re Sicarri too?”

  He nods, fishing in his pock
et for something. He opens his palm, holding it out to her.

  “Tiger’s eye,” she says, snatching it up and holding it close to her chest. The stone acts almost like an olive branch, and the distrust melts as soon as she clutches it.

  “You’re safe with us,” he says, repeating my earlier words, then reaching down to help me up.

  Only, when my fingers touch his, the world around me fades away. It’s like I’m still here, but I’m somewhere else too. l’m aware of Soren’s presence, and Mya’s too, but there’s more. I can hear the faint sound of water dripping in the distance, and I’m surrounded by darkness. I can feel gravel digging into my knees and there’s a stinging pain in the corner of my mouth. I can smell the earth, the rich iron of dirt and the almost sweet smell of concrete after rain.

  “Please!” a voice shouts. It takes me a moment to realize the voice is close. Too close to be coming from anywhere else. It’s me. I’m shouting, and I don’t know why. Only my voice is not my own. It’s deeper, and so familiar I’d know it anywhere.

  Elijah.

  Then suddenly, I’m back in the empty house, my hand grasping Soren’s.

  “Karina, you need to listen to me. Calm down. Do you hear me? Calm down and breathe,” Soren’s voice is so severe, I immediately panic. My hands are completely black, coated in dark wispy skin.

  Oh no. My magic… I must have used too much without knowing it.

  I’m burning.

  “Dial it back. Deep breaths,” he says soothingly. “Look at me, okay? Breathe with me.”

  I follow the sound of his breaths, in and out…in and out. We breathe together until the energy subsides. I push hard against the burning, against the desire to keep the flames alive. When I finally open my eyes, my hands are back to normal.

  “We need to figure out what is going on with you,” Soren says.

  “I think I just saw where Elijah is,” I spit out. Mya is standing in the corner, no doubt afraid of me now. Shit.

  “What are you talking about?” Soren asks, his hands squeezing my arms to bring my attention back to him.

  “I can’t be sure, but it felt like I was in a dungeon, only it didn’t seem like it was me. I think he was sending me a message. I can’t explain it right, but I have this feeling, the same one I get when he can hear me think.” The words rush from my lips, and it isn’t until I notice the look on Soren’s face that I realize what I’ve said.

  “He can hear what you think?” he asks, incredulous.

  I nod.

  “Right now?” Soren asks, almost frantic in his confusion.

  “I don’t know. We only found out after Vara showed up last night.”

  “What the hell, Karina?” he says, dropping his hands to his sides.

  “I have to think differently. It comes from a different place, and he can hear it,” I say, trying to come up with a way to explain something that I’m sure is much more complex than a few simple words.

  “I… I don’t even know what to say. Why wouldn’t you guys tell me?” Soren asks.

  “We weren’t sure what it was. Hell, we’re not even sure if it’s safe. Honestly, I don’t even know how it happened, Soren. One minute Vara was on top of me outside, and the next Elijah woke up to the sound of my voice in his head.”

  “I believe you.” Mya straightens, clearing her throat. She’s the perfect picture of a child pretending to be a grown up, and I wonder for a moment if I looked like that once. After my mother betrayed us.

  “I can do it too,” she says, and before Soren or I can react, his phone rings. He answers, listens, then says, “On our way,” and shoves it back in his pocket.

  “Marcel is outside. We’ll talk about this later.” He looks to both of us and we nod. I understand what he means.

  Elijah and I were right in keeping it from everyone. We can’t explain what we don’t understand… not yet anyway.

  “You two have been quiet. What the hell happened back there?”

  Marcel’s voice brings life to the practically dead room. Soren and I have been in this room in since we returned to the warehouse. And when I say sitting, I really mean hiding. What from? A better question would be what not from? When two people sit in a room without speaking for hours, there’s usually something they’re hiding from. And right now, it’s the realization that we are no closer to finding Elijah and that there’s so much more to magic than we ever could have known.

  Soren grunts, placing his head in his hands and slouching against the long table. He looks tired, exhausted actually, and I’m sure I don’t look any different. We need to find Elijah, but neither of us has the slightest idea where to look next. Now we have this whole “mind reading” thing to deal with. It doesn’t surprise me that there haven’t been any words exchanged between us.

  “We got Mya set up with a room, and finally got her to sleep,” Marcel adds, and I perk up in my seat. I had been worried about her, and after what she revealed back at the house where we found her, I knew I had too many questions for her. I haven’t let myself bombard her with them, though. She’s so young and probably frightened. I decided to give her space. Judging by the look on Soren’s face, it won’t be much longer until she’s subjected to a full-blown interrogation.

  “We also got your dad in a room. He wasn’t in there ten minutes before we heard his snores.” Marcel laughs, and I do too, until I remember that Beckett slept soundlessly back at the house. I frown at the thought.

  “What about the demon we captured?” I ask.

  “He didn’t make it.” Marcel explains, and I understand what he means. I didn’t think that demon would have told us anything we didn’t already know.

  “Marcel, have you seen Lincoln?” Soren asks, pulling himself up from the chair.

  “Uh, yeah. Up in his room, I think,” Marcel answers, pointing his thumb towards the door.

  “Could you go get him?” Soren asks.

  “Sure, Soren.” Marcel says, holding a polite half smile on his lips as he turns and exits the same way he came in.

  I cast a questioning look toward Soren, and he catches it.

  “We have to find him,” he says simply, his only offer of explanation before he moves on. The funny thing is that I get it.

  Without Elijah here, well, nothing else matters. And that means we’ll have to do whatever it takes. I suddenly feel ridiculous and angry with myself that we’ve both just sat here, avoiding our problems and wasting precious time.

  “You’re right. What’s our next move?” I straighten.

  “I want to talk to Lincoln about this mind-reading thing. Maybe he’s got some insight,” Soren says. “Can you remember anything about that vision you had earlier? Anything look familiar?”

  I close my eyes and try to take myself back to the memory. It’s distant and fuzzy, but I can recall bits and pieces.

  “Pen and paper?” I ask, eyes still closed. I feel like if I open them, I’ll lose what I have.

  I hear Soren shuffle across the room and then the door opens and closes. A few seconds pass and then the door opens again. Soren places the items in front of me, and I pick them up, sketching out the details of what I can remember from the room. The darkness makes it hard, but I remember the walls. They were slick with some type of oil, and there were pipes on each side. Everything was wet and rusty. I’d had the intense feeling like I was in a cage, trapped … or maybe imprisoned. As I draw I recall the sharp ache in my knees, the hunger in my stomach, and the pain in the rest of my body. Is Elijah feeling all of this? He must be. My eyes pop open at the thought, and at the same time my hand stills.

  Before I have the chance to give voice to my thoughts, the door opens and Lincoln pokes his head in. “You were looking for me?”

  Soren clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. There are some things we need to discuss,” Soren says, finally pulling his eyes from the drawing on the paper in front of me.

  “I assume this is about what we were speaking of before we were so rudely attacked by those pitiful demons.”
Lincoln’s eyes find mine, and as soon as the words leave his mouth, I remember what Vara called me. Ignis gerit. I can’t believe I forgot.

  “Actually, it was about my father, but now that you mention it…. What exactly does that mean?”

  “It’s Latin, loosely translating to ‘one who possesses all.’ It’s not normally meant as an insult, and I haven’t heard anyone use the term in a very long time.” Lincoln moves across the room and takes the seat next to me. “If this is what you are, Karina, it means you hold the power to control more magic than you understand. Not unlike Soren, though I have to admit I wasn’t looking for it in you. Odd that the child is the one who discovered it first.” Lincoln reaches for my hands.

  I want to pull away but don’t.

  “Wait a minute. I’m confused. We’re talking about magic and the ability to control it?” Soren asks, and I want to back him up, but I still haven’t made a sound.

  Whatever it is, I don’t want to be the one who possesses it.

  “They should have listened to me,” Lincoln whispers as he finally backs away from me. He’s probably speaking to himself, but Soren and I both hear every word, which only makes us more confused.

  “What the hell does all this mean, Linc? I’m tired of you holding back what you know. You need to start explaining. Right now,” Soren demands.

  Lincoln’s eyes dart around the room a few times, seemingly searching for a way around this, but in the end he releases a deep breath and his eyes briefly close. The energy in the room shifts, and for a moment I’m almost certain it becomes colder. I wrap my arms around myself and wait for Lincoln to speak.

  “You both know about the dangers of your magic. The light inside you can burn so bright that you can be overcome with the power of it. You burn,” he says, and Soren takes a seat at the table.

  “Yes,” Soren says.

  “But Soren, haven’t you ever considered the fact that you were able to transfer bodies, the way that demons do, but you haven’t turned into one yourself?” Lincoln asks.