42. Azzie
Forty-Two
Azzie
The reflection of flame flickered through broken windows, dancing off the walls around us, and smoke filled the air. We were in the middle of a war zone.
Where did Finn go?
The thought was hard to grasp. Like when I’d woken up in the Salt Lake apartment.
“Is he kidding right now? Did you piss him off?” The woman standing next to Zeke was dressed like she’d never given a fuck about the weight of anyone’s opinion in her life. Fishnet stockings, a Goonies T-shirt with a black leather vest over it, and a ballet tutu over shorts.
She was also gorgeous and apparently super comfortable with Zeke.
An ex?
Not that I was jealous of a fake vision.
“Frequently without trying.” Zeke didn’t regard her with the same warmth she turned on him. “Do I know you?”
She laughed as if that were the most ridiculous question in the world. Whoever she was, she was flirting while the sounds of battle raged in the background, and that was bullshit.
“If this is an inside joke, I don’t get it and it needs to wait.” That was a black woman about my age, with beautiful wings and armor, similar to what Kirby wore, but this woman’s wings were a deep red instead of black.
Her response seemed appropriate to me. I liked her.
Davyn was more beast than I’d ever seen him. He stepped between Starkad and me. “Do not dismiss?—”
“ Get down ,” Zeke shouted. White flames filled the room, and bits of building crumbled around us.
Both the fire and debris bounced off invisible shields, rather than hitting any of us. It gave me a heartbeat to glance at those around us. No one hesitated to react to Zeke’s warning. How did he know, and who did they think he was?
Why wasn’t I extending a shield? Where were my wings?
Why would I be capable of doing either thing? More secrets Finn kept?
Where was he?
The split in my mind was similar to what I felt in the apartment—a disconnect between the illusion in front of me and reality—except this was far more dangerous than sharing a bath with Davyn.
The moment the sound of the immediate explosion faded, before the aftermath cleared from the air, Kirby barked, “No more time. Disburse now. Good luck.”
Zeke and the brunette vanished, poof , despite his “ Wait. ” Davyn broke into a fast run next to Starkad, both of them moving as much like animals as humans as they wove through rubble and melted into shadows, to slip out onto the street.
I was supposed to be doing something. The half of my mind that knew what this was couldn’t grasp the thought. I should be fighting. Leaving with the other two winged women, who had just blinked out of sight.
Kirby and I were the only ones left.
“Stay safe,” she said to me, and turned on her toe.
“Wait.” My call was enough to stop her. “Where do you want me?” And where was?—
Whom?
Kirby glanced over her shoulder. “Hide.”
What? I’d trained to fight. “I can help.” I wouldn’t ask her permission, but she seemed to have a grasp of the logistics and the situation and acting against that could cause everyone harm.
Her shoulders sank and she gave me her full attention, though her pursed lips said she wasn’t happy about it. “We talked about this—you need to stay out of sight.”
“You were going to put me on recon before the explosion.” There wasn’t time for this discussion. The city had been evacuated—how did I know that, and why did I think Loki was responsible?—and the fight was here. “I’m going to act either way. If you give me a direction, you might not get in my way.” That conflicted feeling raged inside, split between almost grasping where I was, and knowing none of this was real.
The smoke that clogged the air and burned my eyes felt real enough.
Kirby raised her eyebrows. “You were there for the planning.”
No I wasn’t. There wasn’t time for the back and forth.
Her expression softened. “I get it—Your mom said you’d be powerful. You’re strong, but you can be hurt here in ways an immortal can’t be. This is the wrong time to pretend otherwise.” Her tone was almost apologetic.
That made the words hurt more than if she’d been sneering and derisive.
A nearby explosion shook the ground and rattled through me. Kirby gave me one last glance. “Don’t die. Davyn would be upset.” With that, her feet left the concrete and she flew in a low, straight line toward the nearest exit.
This wasn’t right. I felt more helpless than the day in Salt Lake. Another day that Kirby was apparently associated with.
I should make it a point to steer clear of her in the future.
Another projectile hit the building, the structure creaked and groaned, and a scream carried with the cacophony. I was already running toward the sound; feeling sorry for myself would wait.
As I sprinted over rubble and debris in the warehouse, then outside, the situation ticked through my mind. Based on what I’d seen with Davyn, I had the thoughts of both the me who had walked into the test, and a version who had lived whatever led to this point. I needed to fall into the mind of the latter without losing track of who I really was.
A faint whimper caught my attention, along with a movement out of the corner of my eye, and I changed direction to run toward three teenagers pressed against a building, with stone and splintered wood beams lying on the ground around them.
“Help him.” They were all dust covered, in oversized clothing that hid their size and shape, and the voice of the person who spoke creaked with exhaustion, making it impossible to identify gender or features. The speaker pointed to the person on the concrete who was the source of the whimpering.
Though the trio had taken shelter under an overcrop of brick, it wasn’t a big space, and a cinder block had landed on one of their legs, pinning the kid to the ground.
I told Kirby the city wasn’t fully evacuated. The thought came from nowhere, and was as real as any attached to one of my actual memories. That we needed to give people a couple more hours before we stormed in, guns blazing.
I gripped the beam and tugged up. It didn’t budge. Tension spilled through my muscles as I tensed my entire body and pushed everything into it I had. Might be nice if that magic Finn insisted I had chose now to make itself known.
With a grunt I tried harder. Move just a smidge. Enough for them to pull their friend out. Move you bastard. MOVE . I strained until my arms and back and legs burned.
Nothing.
“What’s in that fucking beam. Solid concrete?” I kicked it. The shock reverberated through my foot, but the obstruction didn’t budge.
The kid trapped under the beam whimpered and the pain splashed across their face was tangible. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t leave them here.
I looked around, not sure what I was searching for.
“What now?” One of the kid’s echoed the question looping in my thoughts.
“I think it’s broken.” That was the kid who was trapped, and every word they rasped out was agony.
I didn’t know. People were going to die on my watch again. Why didn’t Kirby listen to me? How could she ignore?—
My gaze landed on a metal bar. Holes ran up the edge of the support beam for a store shelf. I doubted it was strong, but if there was one… “Help me dig through for more of those.” I pointed to the bar.
The two teenagers who weren’t pinned scrambled to help me search. We only uncovered two more, but it might be enough. “Now we need something to wrap them together, to make a lever.
One of them produced a roll of plastic wrap—the kind used to secure boxes on pallets. I doubted it would hold for long, but it might be enough.
“Let’s try it.” I held the three metal rods together while the pair wrapped them as tightly as possible with dozens of layers of plastic. “MacGyver would be jealous,” I announced when we were done.
One of them gave me a puzzled look. “Who?”
Damn Davyn for introducing me to old people TV. “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to wedge this between the beam and the ground.” As I talked, I kicked a cinder block into place to use as a wedge. “When I say go , pull on your friend as hard as you can, to see if you can get them clear.”
They nodded, and the trapped kid whimpered louder as they all got into position. I wedged my make-shift tool into place, and drew in a steadying breath. Even if I didn’t have magic or any sort of power, I had to do this.
I poured all my strength into pushing down. A grunt became a groan became a drawn-out scream as I pushed harder and harder. It wasn’t moving at all. Not so much as a budge.
Then it moved. I didn’t know if it was just the metal bending, but I had to take a chance. “ Now. ”
I was vaguely aware of the go, go, go from the kids, but I was more focused on not dropping the beam the few inches I hoped I’d raised it. My arms burned and my legs and back screamed from exertion. I wasn’t sure if the screeching I heard was me or the metal.
There was no choice but to keep going. To keep pushing. If there was any chance at all a life would be saved?—
“He’s out,” one of them said.
I let go of the lever and it clattered to the ground. “Thank the gods.”
“That’s definitely broken.” Another spoke.
I turned to see the two crouched next to their now-free friend, examining a leg with the tibia bent at an obscene angle.
The boy who had been trapped started to sob. Tears rolled down dusty cheeks, and he dragged the back of his wrist across his face, smearing everything and making the sight that much worse. “We have to get out. You guys have to go without me.”
Despite the fact I didn’t know any of them, I couldn’t let this happen. No one should have to suffer like this for the wars of the gods. Not those who were fated, and especially those not involved in any way.
I’d carry him to the edge of town and put him on a bus if I had to. That didn’t seem practical in the long run though.
“Maybe it’s not really broken.” I knew full well it was, but knelt with the others anyway, and rested my hands on the injured teenager’s legs as gently as I could.
He still sucked in a pained breath through his teeth.
Without any probing, I could tell there was no setting this or straightening it without risking even more damage.
“We can put him in splint? Like in the movies?” One asked.
Unlikely.
If I could heal someone else, how would it work? What would that feel like? I didn’t even know how or if I’d done it to myself. It just happened and I assumed the knives were responsible.
Please, me, if that knowledge is trapped inside my head somewhere, this would be the one time to let it out. I forced the prayer through my mind, and focused an additional thought of heal his leg at my target. Send some sort of magic through my hands? Maybe?
Warmth flooded my palms, almost sticky and wet. Blood?
The boy let out a yell that was the worst, most tortured sound I’d ever heard.
I jerked away, and peddled back on my hands and feet and butt, not wanting to make things worse.