Blaze, p.24
Blaze, page 24
“’Ello again, little girl,” he said, smiling cruelly.
Artemis reached behind her head. She felt the cool metal of the hilt in her hands and drew her sword.
The flame didn’t come.
The shade smirked at her. “Not much of a Blaze, are we?”
A welling panic rose, but she pushed it down. She could do this. She had to do this, full powers or not. Even without the fire. She was the Blaze.
She took another breath and raised her sword. Suddenly, with more speed than she could have imagined, the shade jerked his arm forward and the chain shot out like whip, ready to slice her. She managed to duck just beneath it, the wind rushing by as the heavy metal chain passed just over her head.
Her heart pounding in her chest, she managed to regain her footing and rise back up. How was she supposed to fight against that?
The shade took a step forward, closing the distance between them. He started to swing again and Artemis shuffled backward to try to get out of his reach. Her foot caught on the train of her dress and she stumbled backward, falling to the ground in an unceremonious heap.
The shade laughed and took yet another step closer. He raised his hand above his head and brought the heavy chain down in a killing blow.
Artemis barely managed to roll to the side before the wood floor next to her splintered and cracked at the chain’s impact. She scurried to her feet, raising the sword again.
This isn’t how this is supposed to go, she thought.
The shade lashed out at her with a quick backhanded swipe, and the tip of the chain ripped through the skirt of her gown.
She looked down at the new, gaping tear in the beautiful silk. Anger bubbled up within her, and she glared at her attacker.
“I just got this dress.”
The shade swung the chain in a wide arc this time. Artemis blocked the blow with her sword, but the vibration of metal on metal rattled her bones. The end of the chain wrapped around the blade like a coiling snake.
The shade yanked hard on the chain. Artemis wasn’t sure how, but she hung on to the sword, despite his strength. He pulled, propelling her forward with such force that she nearly crashed into his chest. At the last moment, she let herself drop to the floor, and the change in angle loosened her sword from the chain’s grasp. She slid across the floor and between the shade’s legs, turning as she did and swinging with all of her might. The blade sliced through the back of the shade’s knee, cutting so deep she could see bone.
He fell, screaming in agony.
Artemis shot to her feet and raised her sword above him, ready to deal the final blow. He whimpered in pain, looking up into her eyes, and she hesitated.
She’d never killed someone before, except for that shade in her bedroom. Even then, she hadn’t meant to, and had felt sick at what she’d done. Could she do it now?
Grey’s snickering laugh drew her attention. “Don’t have it in you, do you?” he said, mockingly.
She looked down at the shade. He looked human. She knew he wasn’t, but why did he have to look so very human?
Then she remembered Miss Gorst laying in the hospital, her father fighting for his life, and young Owen Norris and the others who would never get a chance to fight again. She drew back her sword with renewed purpose, but something hit her hard from behind and she flew forward. The sword flew from her hands.
Artemis landed hard, rolled over, and panted to catch her breath. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees to see the second shade leaning over his friend.
“You okay, Bert?” he asked.
“Do I look okay, Alvie?” He gestured to his leg, the lower half bent at an unnatural angle, the tendons and bone exposed, blood spilling out.
Alvie wrinkled his nose. “Does it hurt?”
“What do you think?”
Bert glared at his friend, then they both turned to glower at Artemis, who had finally found her breath and regained her feet.
“You’re gonna be sorry you done that.”
Alvie reached down to pick up the chain but hissed and drew back when his fingers began to burn. Iron, Artemis remembered. Iron burns them. And me.
Shedding his jacket, Alvie wrapped it around his hand and picked up the chain. He was smaller than his friend and not nearly as strong, which gave her a wave of confidence. She’d taken one out; she could take him out as well.
As soon as the thought had taken form, the shade disappeared. It wasn’t until she heard a whoosh of air and felt the chain strike her arm followed by an intense burning sensation that she realized he’d moved. Fast. Very, very fast.
Her shoulder erupted in agony; blood ran down her arm. Wincing, she gripped her sword more tightly and lashed out at him but he once more moved away in a blur. The next blow struck her back, and she arched in pain, the chain ripping through her dress and flesh.
He moved again and again, each time slicing into her, until her dress was in ribbons, her body beneath cut, bloodied, and bruised.
She tried to concentrate through the daze of pain and confusion, and eventually recognized the pattern. He was moving in a triangle, clockwise around her. The last blow had come from behind her; the next would come from her left. In her mind’s eye she saw him move before he did, and knew what she had to do, even if every instinct told her to get out of the way.
When she heard the whoosh of his movement, she leapt toward the sound. Instead of the feeling the sharp pain as the chain’s tip cut into her skin, the heavy metal links wrapped around her middle. The iron burned where it caught exposed flesh, but she would have to endure that.
The shade looked at her in surprise and then grinned, thinking he had the advantage. He wrapped his end of the chain around his wrist and was ready to pull her off her feet, but instead of resisting the chain, she turned into it. And turned and turned.
Ballet lessons, don’t fail me now.
It was nothing more than chaînes turn, appropriate, a small part of her mind said as she spun, winding the chain around her middle and getting closer with each spin.
Alvie stood dumbstruck as she twirled toward him, and Artemis didn’t miss the opportunity that was presented. As she came out of the last turn, she brought her sword down in a high arc. He went to run, but the chain caught around his wrist locked him in place.
Her sword cleaved into his side, cutting into his waist with a horrific gash. There was a sickening, slick sound, followed by a stream of blood when she yanked the blade free.
Alvie’s eyes widened. His hand went to his side, but the wound was gaping, like a great axe into a tree.
She stared for a moment before quickly turning to look for the other shade. While she and his friend had been battling, he’d dragged himself toward a back door, leaving a wide swath of blood on the parquet floor behind him. He had either passed out or perished, but Artemis couldn’t tell which. He lay face down, his damaged leg resting in a pool of blood.
She’d done that. She’d done all of this.
Dear God … Rosalind!
She spun around, but Grey and Rosalind were gone.
Artemis’s body ached and bled as she pushed through the back door, hoping against hope that this was the way Grey had gone. The door led outside, and she stumbled out into the night air, looking around helplessly.
They were nowhere to be seen. She tried to catch her breath and think. Where would he go?
“Miss Artemis?”
Tommy’s voice sounded as shocked and appalled as his face looked when she turned to him.
“Dear God,” he said, “what ’appened to you?”
She looked down at herself. Her dress was in tatters and blood oozed from multiple wounds.
“Where’s the doctor?” he demanded. “We need to get you home.”
“Home,” she echoed, but her thoughts were far from his.
That’s where he’d go. Home.
She grasped Tommy by the shoulders. “We need to get to Grey’s. Now. Rosalind’s life hangs in balance.”
She prayed there was still a life to save.
“But you’re—”
She started toward their carriage, only turning around to shout, “Now!”
Tommy fell in line beside her. It was clear from his expression that he thought her mad, but he nodded and helped her into the carriage nonetheless, before clambering up into the driver’s seat. He pushed the horse hard, and they raced across town to Grey’s flat near Berkeley Square.
When they arrived, she jumped from the carriage and ran up the stairs to Grey’s front door, her body throbbing along with her heart. What if she was wrong? What if she was too late?
By the time she climbed to the top step, she felt too weak to do so much as open the door. Her body simply had no fight left in it. Just getting here had taken nearly all of her reserves.
So close now. Hang on, she thought but could only slump against the door.
“Stand back,” Tommy said.
She pivoted, not surprised at all that he’d followed her up. She moved to the side as he took two steps away then ran full force into the door. The frame splintered and the door gave way, swinging open and hitting the inside wall with a crack.
Artemis forced her legs to move and entered the flat.
Grey was standing by the fireplace, Rosalind in his arms. He was whispering to her, and she could feel the magic in the air. It made her skin crawl. She strode toward him, nearly faint from the effort.
“Let her go,” she said, as she had in the ballroom. This time, in spite of her pain and fatigue, her voice did not waver; now it was cut from the same steel as her blade.
Grey ignored her and kept whispering.
She took a step closer. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tommy, unnoticed by Grey, slinking around to the other side of the room where he might have a chance to grab Rosalind.
“I said, let her go.”
Grey finally dragged his attention away from Rosalind to look at Artemis.
“Let her go or I’ll kill you,” she said.
“You? A slip of a girl who can barely stand?” Grey said, smiling. “I think not.” He roughly held Rosalind’s head and turned it toward her. “My bride-to-be and I have so much to discuss. Don’t we, darling?”
He moved her head to simulate a nod.
Tommy was close now, just behind the chair to Grey’s left.
Artemis remembered her hesitation earlier. She would not hesitate again, even though her arms ached and her body protested when she reached behind her head and grasped the hilt of her sword. As soon as her fingers touched the cool metal, the power of Hellfire rushed through her, igniting the blade as she pulled it free, flames licking at its tempered edges.
An energy more potent than any she’d ever known coursed through her veins. It was as though every inch of her skin, every fiber of her being, vibrated with an intensity she could not name.
What’s happening to me?
For a brief moment she was overwhelmed, fearful the fire would engulf and consume her, burn her alive from the inside out. But that wasn’t the worst of it.
Along with the fire, the darkness came. Like a black shadow it stretched out toward her, beckoning her, wanting her. It offered her power, more power than she could ever imagine. The fire would be hers to command.
Relax, accept it, a voice inside her said.
She drew away from it, but it reached out to her, whispering to her in beguiling softness. Have what you want, take what you need, it said. It caressed her and cajoled her. It would be so easy to give in.
Yes.
She sank into it, letting the darkness surround her, envelope her, claim her.
Grey and Rosalind existed only on the vague periphery of her conscious mind now. She saw the incubus smiling at her through the haze. Her gaze then drifted to Rosalind, and Artemis was only barely aware of who she was. But then Rosalind’s eyes found her, a spark of fear overcoming their previous dullness, pleading, begging her for help. The light was fleeting, but it lit the darkness.
Artemis didn’t want this. She wasn’t this.
She began to resist.
Give in.
No! Never.
The darkness pulled at her again, but she pushed it away, screaming inwardly, and the darkness fled like black oil, sliding away. The shadows receded, and the fire inside her burst to life again, burning so brightly that there was no place for shadows. A shudder ran through Artemis as she and the flames became one.
I am.
A moment later, the raging inferno both outside and inside of her began to wane and she Emerged from her emotional crucible. Her mind, so overpowered moments ago, snapped back into place with frightening clarity.
She looked at Grey, her fatigue forgotten, pain only a memory. The power of Hellfire surged within her now.
Grey’s eyes flashed with something akin to fear, then he set his jaw.
“Blaze or not, you won’t kill me,” Grey said, though there was a tremble in his voice despite his confident words. “You don’t have the guts.”
She raised her sword, poised to strike, and was reborn.
“The hell I don’t,” she said.
Tommy sprang from his hiding place and snatched Rosalind from Grey’s arms. As he did so, Artemis lunged forward, crossing the room in a heartbeat, and drove her sword straight into Grey’s cold heart. The force of the blow was so great that the blade ran him through and embedded itself in the wooden mantle.
Impaled on her blade, he looked at her in confusion and surprise before he made a few halting gasps for breath.
“Just a girl,” he sputtered, and the light went out in his eyes. His head slumped forward as his body dangled lifelessly, held in place by the sword piercing his heart.
“Not a girl,” Artemis said. The power coursed through her veins, raw unbridled energy that she could feel in every fiber of her being.
“The Blaze.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Artemis drifted between sleep and wakefulness. She rolled over, and an ache in her body brought her fully awake. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the green brocade of her canopy lit by the late morning light.
She was in bed. I don’t remember going to bed.
The door to her bedroom opened. With a yawn, Artemis pushed herself up onto one elbow and turned to see Mrs. Perry peering inside.
“Awake at last, I see,” the woman said.
“What time is it?” she asked, still fuzzyheaded.
Mrs. Perry just smiled and brought a tray into the room. Even from here Artemis could smell the toast and jam. Moving the pillows behind her, she sat up in bed and winced. Just moving was painful.
“Is that gooseberry?” Artemis asked, distracted by the smell. They never had gooseberry jam. Her father loathed the stuff.
“It is,” Mrs. Perry said.
She reached for a slice of toast, but her hand stilled. Memories of gooseberry jam came rushing back with a force that hit her squarely in the chest. Was she dreaming? Was this another nightmare?
She looked at Mrs. Perry. Or was it Mrs. Perry?
“What’s the matter, dear?”
“Where’s my father?” she asked. Seeing him was the only way to know, the only way to make sure.
Mrs. Perry smiled kindly. “He’ll be up in a minute.”
Ignoring her body’s protests, she started to get out of bed, moving the tray and covers aside. “I need to see him. I need to see him now.”
“Everything all right?”
She looked up to see her father, her true father, in the doorway. He approached her with a frown. “You shouldn’t be getting out of bed; you need rest.”
“I’m awake?” she asked, letting out the breath she’d been holding.
It seemed to take him a moment to understand her meaning. “Ah. Yes. You’re very much awake and alive.”
“But the jam. You hate gooseberry.”
He gave her a half-smile. “I know how much you love it and I thought you might enjoy something a little special after ….”
After.
Her mind filled in the blanks. The Autumnal Ball. The fight with the shades. Killing Grey. She glanced at the bandages on her arm, and more on her ribs and back.
“They’re painful, but nothing too serious,” her father assured her. “Thankfully. The healing powers of the Blaze are remarkable.”
Artemis looked anxiously at Mrs. Perry, who merely continued to smile kindly at her.
“You know?” she realized, “about …?”
“There’s not much that goes on in this house that I don’t know about, dear.”
Relief flooded through Artemis. She was tired of secrets and it was good to have Mrs. Perry on her side. She needed all the help she could get.
Mrs. Perry patted her forearm gently. “Now, you eat your breakfast and I’ll come back later to get the tray.”
“Thank you.”
With another smile for her, Mrs. Perry left.
“So, all of that with Grey,” Artemis asked. “It really happened?”
Her father arched an eyebrow and picked up the shredded remnants of her dress. The silk was ripped in a dozen places and stained with blood.
“I shouldn’t be trusted with nice things,” Artemis said in jest, but when he didn’t smile as he put the gown aside, she gulped and said, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” he asked, seeming puzzled.
“Ruining the dress. I know how expensive—”
“Artemis, I don’t care about the dress,” he said, sitting on the edge of her bed and taking her hand. “I care about you.”
He went on to discuss with her what had happened in the aftermath of the fight. Her memories were coming back but were still hazy, and he stepped in to fill in the gaps. She’d been injured, extensively, but nothing life-threatening. Between his medical skill and her accelerated healing powers, she’d be good as new in a few days.
“I will never get the image of you covered with blood and your dress torn to ribbons out of my mind,” he said. “It disturbed me deeply.”
