Chapter Five #2
“You shouldn’t be able to do that.” His voice has lost some of its edge, confusion replacing fury as he stares at the flame like it’s betrayed him.
“No human should be able to affect it. The magic is too old, too specific. Unless…” He doesn’t finish the thought, but his eyes snap back to me with new intensity, studying me like I’m a puzzle that doesn’t quite fit together properly.
The scrutiny makes my skin crawl, every instinct screaming that being interesting to this creature is significantly more dangerous than being dismissed.
“She’s bleeding, Prez.” The new voice slides into the room like silk over ice, smooth, ancient, and carrying undertones that make my survival instincts shriek predator.
I turn to find another man emerging from the shadows near the far wall, except he wasn’t there a second ago, and I would swear on everything I own that there’s no way he could have moved that fast, that silently, without some kind of supernatural assistance.
He’s tall and muscular, built like a dancer or an assassin, all deadly grace wrapped in designer clothes that look completely out of place in this mountain fortress.
His skin is marble-pale, almost luminous in the low light, and when he moves closer, I catch the gleam of red in his eyes, bright enough to see from across the room.
A scar cuts down the left side of his face from temple to jaw, the old wound standing out in sharp relief against pale skin.
“And she smells…” he pauses, tilting his head as he inhales deeply, nostrils flaring with obvious intrigue, “… interesting.”
The way he says ‘interesting’ makes every hair on my body stand at attention, my survival instinct recognizing a threat assessment when I hear it. The ice-breathing man, Prez, apparently, turns his glowing gaze toward the creepy guy with enough warning in the movement to stop a charging bear.
“Don’t even think about it, Scar.”
Scar.
Of course, his name is Scar.
Why wouldn’t the vampiric-looking creature with literal red eyes and predatory grace have a name that screams danger? The hunter’s ravings echo in my head, words about monsters that I dismissed as trauma-induced hallucinations taking on new, terrifying weight.
Scar’s smile is all teeth and promise, fangs descending slightly as he watches me with the kind of focus that suggests he’s calculating exactly how quickly he could cross the space between us and how much I’d struggle before the end.
“I’m not thinking anything inappropriate, Prez. Just noting that we have an unexpected guest. A human guest. In our territory. Touching your flame. Which, unless I’m very much mistaken, breaks approximately every fucking rule in the witch’s book.”
The witch.
Another piece of the puzzle slides into place as my brain struggles to process information that shouldn’t be real.
This is insane.
This is impossible.
This is exactly what the dying hunter was screaming about before physics and bad luck snapped his neck like a twig.
“We have a problem,” Scar continues, his eyes never leaving mine as he addresses the ice man. “She’s seen us, seen this place… knows what we are, or at least suspects enough to be dangerous. The laws are very clear about what happens to humans who breach our world.”
The temperature, which had started to stabilize, plummets again as the ice man’s fury reignites.
Frost races across every surface within ten feet of him, thick enough to obscure the floor and climb the walls like living vines.
His hands curl into fists at his sides, ice coating his knuckles until they look carved from a glacier, and when he speaks, his voice carries the weight of mountains grinding together.
“I’m aware of the laws, Scar.”
“Then you know what has to happen.” Scar’s tone stays conversational, almost gentle, like he’s discussing routine business instead of my imminent murder. “The witch will come. She always does when the boundaries are crossed. And she won’t be pleased.”
My legs finally give up the fight to stay upright, knees buckling as exhaustion, blood loss, and sheer overwhelming terror catch up with adrenaline’s retreat.
I don’t quite fall, catching myself on the edge of the dome’s pedestal with one hand while the other presses against ribs that might actually be cracked based on the way breathing suddenly takes concentrated effort.
The flame inside surges again at my touch, colors exploding into brilliant gold and white that fills the dome completely, burning with strength I haven’t seen from it yet.
Both men freeze, staring at the fire like it’s performed a miracle, and maybe it has, based on their expressions.
The ice man takes an involuntary step forward, then catches himself, warring emotions playing across his face too quickly to parse.
“This isn’t possible,” he says, and for the first time, his voice holds something besides rage or threat.
Wonder, maybe.
Or hope.
Or terrified recognition of something he doesn’t want to acknowledge.
“And yet…” Scar gestures toward the dome with one elegant hand, his smile widening into something that might be amusement or anticipation of chaos to come, “… here we are. Your dying flame, her bleeding humanity, and magic that’s been silent for centuries suddenly deciding now, tonight, is the perfect time to wake up and complicate absolutely everything. ”
The flame pulses once more, a heartbeat of light, heat, desperation, and furious life, before settling back into its dance, still bright but not quite as brilliant as that first surge.
I sway on my feet, the room tilting dangerously as blood continues running into my eye and consciousness starts fraying at the edges.
“I don’t understand any of this,” I manage, the words slurring slightly. “I just wanted help. That’s all. Just some fucking help from the crash and the stupid snow outside, but it is just as goddamn arctic in here.”
The ice man’s eyes lock onto mine, and in their glowing depths I see the moment he makes a decision that I am absolutely certain I’m not going to like.
His expression hardens into something beyond cold, beyond merciless, into the kind of absolute determination that moves mountains and breaks worlds without hesitation or regret.
“You’re not leaving,” he says, each word dropping like stones into still water. “Not until we figure out what you are and why my fire responds to you like it’s been waiting centuries for this exact moment.”
“I’m nobody!” My protest comes out weak, barely audible over my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. “Just a photographer… human, normal, nothing special. Certainly nothing like whatever the fuck you are!”
“My flame disagrees.” His gaze shifts to Scar, some unspoken communication passing between them that I’m too exhausted and hurt to interpret.
“Lock her down… in a secure room. Iron if necessary. We’ll figure this out after I deal with the hunter’s body and make sure there aren’t any more witnesses wandering through my fucking territory! ”
Iron.
He said iron like it means something beyond basic metal, and the way Scar’s expression shifts into something calculating and predatory suggests it definitely means something I won’t enjoy experiencing.
“Wait!” I try to take a step backward, but there’s nowhere to go—the pedestal behind me, two supernatural creatures in front of me, and exhaustion dragging at every limb until standing upright takes more energy than I have left to spare.
“You can’t just imprison me. I haven’t done anything except survive a car crash and have the terrible judgment to seek help from the wrong place. ”
“You touched my fire.” The ice man moves closer, each step controlled and deliberate, frost spreading in his wake until the entire floor looks like a frozen lake.
“You made it burn brighter than it has in decades. That alone is worth investigating… even if you weren’t a human who’s seen too much and knows too much. ”
“I don’t know anything!” The words come out desperate now, fear finally catching up with everything else as the reality of my situation crystallizes with brutal clarity. “I don’t even understand what the hell I’m looking at. This doesn’t make sense. None of this makes any fucking sense!”
“It will.” Scar appears at my elbow with speed that makes my stomach lurch, his hand wrapping around my upper arm with strength that suggests escape isn’t an option worth attempting.
His skin is ice-cold through my jacket, and up close, I see that his eyes are definitely red, glowing with inner light that has nothing human in them.
“Eventually. Once the prez decides whether you’re useful… or just unfortunate.”
The room spins violently as he steers me away from the dome, my legs barely cooperating with the direction he’s guiding me. Behind us, I hear the ice man’s voice one more time, cold and final.
“Find Wreck. Tell him to clean up the crash site and dispose of the hunter’s body. Make it look like an animal attack or exposure. No evidence that leads back here.”
“And her?” Scar’s question holds genuine curiosity. “What do we tell the others when they ask why there’s a human locked in our compound?”
The pause stretches long enough that I risk glancing back over my shoulder, catching one last glimpse of the ice man standing before his dying flame, ice coating his skin and fury bleeding from every line of his body as he stares at the fire like it’s betrayed him.
“Tell them she’s insurance,” he says finally. “Until we know what she is and what she can do, she stays exactly where we can watch her. No exceptions. No mercy. No way out.”
The last thing I see before Scar guides me through a doorway I didn’t notice before is the flame in its dome, burning brighter than when I first walked in, colors dancing and spinning like it’s celebrating something even as it continues dying, breath by breath, heartbeat by heartbeat, waiting for salvation that might have just walked through the door in the form of a bleeding, terrified photographer who doesn’t understand anything except that she’s in significantly more danger than any car crash could provide.
The door closes behind us with a sound like finality.
And somewhere in the darkness of this mountain fortress, my new prison awaits.
Please let this all be a concussion dream.