Earth Shaker: A Fire Heart Novella (The Fire Heart Chronicles) Read online

  I ordered some burgers and hot dogs and fries and other stuff I thought the guys would like, then started my trek back to the inn.

  I gazed at the cemetery, located halfway from the diner to the inn. Behind it, was a church looking as rundown as the rest of the town. If there wasn’t someone at the front desk at the inn and a cook and waitress at the diner, I would have thought this town was abandoned.

  Something tugged in the back of my mind and I sent my senses out.

  The heavy, dark feeling was here.

  I almost tripped on my own feet, but I kept going, my expression and movements neutral. The feeling was coming from the cemetery and from behind me. It was following me and getting close.

  Swallowing my panic, I pulled out my phone, and like a gadjo would do, I pretended to check Facebook or Instagram. Only I sent a text to Hanzi.

  Me: On the road to diner. Alchemists.

  I hurried my steps a little, not enough to be noticeable, and prayed for Hanzi to see my text. He was in bed when I left, ready for a nap. I had the impression Rye wouldn’t rest until I came back, but I didn’t have his number.

  I kept my senses out, checking on the heavy feeling that advanced more and more.

  The inn came into view, still too far away, but in sight. My will to run made me tense, but I held on.

  Until the heavy, dark cloud exploded behind me.

  Five alchemists ran after me.

  With a yelp, I ran.

  The alchemists advanced fast, gaining on me. I didn’t like using my magic in public, but what the hell, this town was deserted. And if someone saw us, we could deal with it later.

  I channeled my power and erected a wall right behind me—ten feet tall and as wide as the road. It wouldn’t stop the alchemists, but it would slow them down, giving me enough time to get to the inn.

  I hoped.

  “Cora!”

  I heard Rye’s shout before I saw him running toward me. I waved him down. “Run!” I shouted back. “To the truck.”

  He halted, his hand extended to me. As soon as I was in range, I slid my hand into his, and then we flew. Rye ran a lot faster than I did.

  “Hanzi is getting the truck,” he said, as he pulled me behind him.

  I dared glance back—the alchemists had climbed the wall, or gone around it, and were coming toward us.

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  Rye squeezed my hand. “We’ll make it.”

  Tires squealing, the truck appeared from behind the inn, turning a sharp corner. For a moment, I thought it would rollover. My heart stuttered, but then the truck straightened, coming fast at us.

  Hanzi stopped the truck right beside us, and Wesh opened the back doors.

  “Come on!” Wesh yelled, good hand extended to us.

  In a couple of steps, Rye and I reached the truck. And the alchemists caught up with us.

  Hanzi jumped from the front of the truck and sent a rush of wind toward the alchemists. They stumbled back, just enough to give us a moment to pull out our swords.

  Face pale, Wesh retreated inside the truck. After all he had seen with his brother, I didn’t blame him. Besides, he was hurt. He would only make things worse.

  Shadow daggers in their hands, the alchemists came at us.

  Rye and Hanzi engaged in a fight and I stayed back. My power running like electricity in my veins, I stomped my foot on the ground and the earth jutted out, breaking through the cement and pulling it back, creating cracks in the road. I kept it coming, the cement breaking apart, wider and wider, putting more distance between the alchemists and us.

  One of them leered at me from across the gap. He fished a vial from his pocket and threw at me. I jumped back as yellow powder spread in the air like fog. Coughing, I backed up more.

  Right into the arms of another alchemist.

  “Got you,” he whispered, his voice muffled because of the thick mask covering the lower part of his face. The strong man pressed the shadow dagger to my neck. Just its touch stung and I recoiled.

  I called on the earth. Like a massive wave, the ground exploded from the nearest gap. I closed my eyes, and all I felt was a gentle caress on my face while the earth, strong and raging, assaulted the alchemist behind me. The earth carried him back, just like a real twenty-foot tall ocean wave would do.

  The alchemist fell on his back, choking on the earth.

  I scrunched my nose. I wanted them all dead, yes, but I hated suffering.

  I raised my sword and plunged it into the alchemist’s heart.

  The man jerked once more before going limp.

  A hand landed on my shoulder and I spun fast, sword raised.

  “Hey.” Rye stepped back, palms out in peace. “It’s me.”

  I lowered my sword. “Sorry.”

  I glanced around. The five alchemists were down and none of us seemed hurt.

  “We should go,” Rye said. “We don’t know if there are more.”

  “Sure,” I muttered.

  I moved my fingers and the earth rushed back into place. Then, I let go of my magic and exhaustion fell over me like a heavy blanket.

  I felt numb on the inside. Numb and tired and cold. I felt like I was swimming in a dark sea and didn’t know where land was. So I kept swimming. I kept going, hoping I was heading in the right direction. But deep in my gut, I knew it was only a matter of time before I drowned.

  8

  The road was quiet, save for the pickup right in front of ours, and for Rye’s loud breathing from the passenger seat.

  I stole a glance at him, but this late at night, I barely saw the shape of his face. But I could hear his breathing, and if I reached over just a few inches, my arm would brush his.

  I had never had problems with quiet and darkness and loneliness until the alchemists had invaded our enclave and attacked the people we loved. Now, the thought that we could be all alone in this world made me sick to my stomach.

  Tears burned the back of my eyes and I blinked fast, focusing on the truck in front of me. I also had never been a crier. In fact, I could count on one hand the times I had cried during my teenage years. I sighed. Now, I was a huge mess with a ticking bomb on my back. Any more bad news and I would explode; I knew it.

  I was sick of feeling this weak, this vulnerable, this unstable. Having fought those alchemists earlier today had helped, because we had kicked their asses, but it still wasn’t enough. It would never be. Not unless I could go home and kick their asses there, before it all went to hell and everyone went MIA.

  A loud exhale pushed through my lips and I shifted in my seat, trying to keep me alert. I was tired; we were all tired. Tired of worrying, tired of fighting, tired of running.

  I glanced at Rye again. He had inclined the back of his seat a tiny bit, and he had laid back, his head high and his arms crossed. If it were me, I would have been leaning on the window in an awkward position, and when I woke up, my back and neck would be killing me.

  As rigid as a statue, Rye was the vision of strength and endurance and composure. If it weren’t for the up and down of his chest, I would have thought he too was dead.

  A ball surged up in my throat and I almost cried out. No one was dead. We didn’t know that. Not yet. And all I could do right now was to hang on to hope.

  I forced my focus back on the road and the pickup ahead of us.

  After our last encounter with the alchemists, we decided our big truck was too visible and easy to track and slow. So, we found an impound lot and borrowed two big pickups—one had a hard cover, so we put the smaller animals there, and one had a tall canopy, where the bigger animals went.

  Rye and I had switched places a couple of hours ago, but in the other car, Hanzi drove because of Wesh’s arm. We had talked to him about stopping hours ago, but he wouldn’t have it. The more distance we put between the place of the last attack and us, the better. He assured us he would let us know if he got too tired to continue. However, it was past midnight. I would give him one more hour, and then I would cal
l it a night.

  My phone rang and Rye shot up, his hand flying to the sword at his feet. My arm shot out before he hit his head on the dashboard.

  “Calm down, big guy,” I said, going for a lighter note, but failing. Nothing about our situation felt light.

  Rye dragged his hands down his face, shaking the sleep from his eyes, and I reached for my phone on the center console.

  A quick peek at the screen let me know who it was.

  My heart sped up.

  “Theron?” I answered.

  “Cora, hi,” he said, his voice low. Stiff.

  “What happened?”

  “I … I have to tell you something.”

  I slammed my foot on the brakes, stopping in the middle of the road a few seconds later. “W-what?”

  “I just left your enclave.”

  I put a shaking hand over my heart. “And?”

  In front of us, Hanzi noticed I had stopped and stopped too.

  “There’s nothing there, Cora. There’s no one.”

  I turned to Rye, fixing my eyes on his. “What do you mean?”

  “I found ruins. Almost every building destroyed by fire … lots of rubble and broken weapons and blood, but nothing else. No person alive. No person dead.”

  I closed my eyes for a second and shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

  “There are no bodies at your enclave, Cora. Dead or alive, the alchemists took everyone.”

  I dropped the phone as if it had burned me. With jerky movements, I pushed the truck’s door open and ran.

  “Cora!” Rye called after me.

  A moment later, Hanzi shouted my name.

  But I kept running and running and running.

  I ran into the forest and away from everything and everyone. My boots weren’t ideal for running and soon my legs and feet were hurting, but I kept pushing. I kept going. Just running. Just running.

  Then, I tripped on something and fell on the dried grass, my hands and knees first, followed by my elbows.

  Exhaustion and grief seeped into my bones, and I lowered my head and body to the cold ground. I lay there as tears fought and fought and fought against my will and strength—and finally won.

  It couldn’t be.

  I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t.

  Marko and Duke had been there. They were our best warriors. My father and my uncle were older, but they had made fine warriors on their younger days. They could kick some alchemist ass if needed.

  It had been needed.

  And it hadn’t been enough.

  The pain sliced through me. I rolled onto my back and let out a roar, screaming to the sky and Saint Sara-la-Kali and whoever else was listening.

  Why?

  By Saint Sara-la-Kali … why?

  The scream went on and on, until my throat felt raw and I was out of breath. But once it was done, I felt empty. Truly empty. Eyes wide, I lay on the cold grass, like I was part of the forest.

  “Cora …”

  His voice was a gentle whisper carried by the soft breeze.

  I ignored it.

  Rye sat down on the grass beside me. I braced myself, expecting him to speak, to say something, to try to comfort me. But he didn’t. Instead, he stayed there, right by my side, like a strong pillar.

  How he was still standing strong, I didn’t understand.

  Finally, after a long while, he spoke. “I talked to Theron.” His voice was soft. Low. Tired. Hurt. “We agreed to meet halfway to the sanctuary. He’ll help us take the animals there.”

  I sat up and gaped at him. “That’s what you’re worried about right now?”

  He looked up to the dark sky. “That’s the only thing we have left.” He lowered his eyes to me. “That and—”

  “Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” I said through gritted teeth.

  He let out a long sigh. “It’s all we can do,” he continued.

  “No!” I cried, the rage and pain and frustration taking hold of me. “It’s not.” I scooted to my knees and faced him, hoping he would understand, he would agree. “We have to go there. We have to go back. There has to be some clue we can follow, and we can—”

  “Cora …”

  “—track them down. There were too many tziganes. The alchemist couldn’t possibly—” I snapped my mouth shut because I could not say it. Not out loud. “There has to be someone still alive,” I whispered.

  Rye’s hand cupped my cheek. “Cora, you know how it works. There’s no one alive.”

  I slapped his hand away. “No! I won’t accept that. I can’t accept that!” I poked his hard shoulder. “And what’s making this more insane right now is how you’re just accepting it.”

  “Because I know—”

  “No, you don’t know!” I poked him again. “And if you did, you wouldn’t behave like an emotionless mummy right now.” I pushed his arm harder. “Rage. Scream. Punch a tree. Do something. Show some emotion!” I raised my hand to slap him.

  Rye closed his hand around my wrist, stopping my attack by a mere inch. “You don’t want to do that.”

  “Yes, I do,” I cried. “I do.”

  “Cora …”

  “Stop saying my name as if that was enough.” A sob pushed up, but I swallowed it, and its weight added more pressure, more pain to my chest. “I want you to scream. I want you to shout. I want to hit something. Hit me! Fight me!” Overcome by grief, I launched myself over Rye.

  He easily caught my shoulders and twisted us around. My back hit the ground hard, and Rye hovered over me, his hands and legs pinning me down.

  More red-rage flooded my sight. “Let me go!”

  “After you calm down.”

  “I won’t calm down! I can’t!” Another sob rose and this time I didn’t have any strength to fight it. It ripped through me, bringing more pain, more darkness. “I want to open my eyes and wake up from this nightmare,” I whispered as my eyes filled with tears. “I want to forget.”

  I lay my hands flat on the ground and felt it. I felt the earth beneath the grass, so calm and strong and alive. All the things I wasn’t at the moment. I also felt Rye over me—also strong and big and hard. His thighs pressed against mine, holding me down, and I suddenly knew, I felt, how I could forget.

  I turned off my mind and acted. I twisted my arms, causing Rye to let them go. He planted his hands on the ground on either side of my head, just as I wanted him too, then I arched my back off the grass, wound my arms around his neck, and pressed my lips to his.

  He inhaled sharply and tension hardened the muscles of his arms and shoulders. Shocked, it took him a second, but then he moved his lips against mine. I let out a relieved sigh and melted into him. His lips were soft and warm and tasted like sin, a sin I wanted and needed. His arm wrapped around my back, and slowly, he lowered me back to the ground, his chest pressed against mine.

  It was divine. His weight pushing me down, his lips ravaging mine, and his gentle touch, leaving trails of fire on my neck and shoulder, were a divine distraction. It was all I needed and I was sure it could be even better.

  I arched my back into him, putting my hips in line with his, pressing myself right there. He groaned, but didn’t stop kissing me.

  Didn’t he get what I wanted?

  I would have to be more obvious. I slid my hands down his ripped abdomen, to the waist of his pants, and under—

  In a flash, Rye was on his feet.

  I leaned up on my elbows. “What the hell?”

  He ran a hand over his face. “What the hell is right. What the hell did you think you were doing?”

  “You were doing it too, you idiot.”

  “I … I was caught off guard …”

  The frustration, the pain, the hurt all fell to the back of my mind. All I felt now was rage and embarrassment. I pushed to my feet. “So, you ask for my hand, but you’re furious about kissing me?”

  “What? I’m not furious about kissing you. Believe me, I’ve been thinking about kissin
g you for a long time.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “You.”

  I crossed my arms. “Excuse me?”

  “You aren’t into it. You were only kissing me so I would get lost in you, and I would make you forget. So, for a few minutes, you would feel something other than the pain you’re feeling.”

  I gulped. Shit.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “And I almost fell for it. Hell, I almost didn’t care. I almost went for it anyway, because I wanted it, I wanted you … but, it’s not right. It won’t be like that.” He faced me, his brows curled down. “If I ever kiss you again, it’ll be because you really want it, not to serve as a distraction.”

  He turned around and stomped away.

  The moment he disappeared between the trees, pain cut through my chest again, bringing me to my knees. Saint Sara-la-Kali, what had I done? I had acted like a slut, ready to hand over my virginity to him just like that. Thankfully, Rye had been a gentleman and stopped me before I could.

  And yet, if I were so relieved by his actions, why did I feel the sting of rejection underneath my skin?

  I pushed those thoughts and feelings away. This was not the moment to think about Rye and his kiss and his body and the way he felt over me. It had been wrong of me to try to disguise my real pain with him.

  A tear slid down my cheek. I was about to open up, to let the pain consume me and carry me, to allow myself to grieve and mourn, when Rye shouted from somewhere among the trees, “Now let’s go. We’re wasting time here.”

  9

  “Are you sure this place is safe?” Hanzi stepped to my side. We halted between our two pickups, looking out at the crappy diner across the deserted road. It looked dead, but the sign on the door said it was open.

  Arms crossed, Rye answered, “We can’t be sure anywhere is safe.” His voice was tight, his shoulders and neck still tense.

  In the end, after my breakdown and our moment, Rye was too pumped and didn’t want to settle down. He wanted to keep driving, but he also wanted to give Hanzi a break. Then Wesh stepped in, saying that as long as we kept going through these quiet back roads, he should be able to drive with only his right arm. After making him promise he would tell us if he got tired or if his arm hurt or if it was too uncomfortable, we resumed our trip.