“Back up.” Link frowned. “If I can’t Rip, how are we gonna get outta this place? I’m pretty badass, but I’m not fireproof.”
“I am,” Sampson said from where he stood just outside the door. Ridley had no idea how long he’d been there watching them.
Link raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
The Darkborn gave Link a hard stare. “Of course not, you idiot. But I can control it.” Sampson ducked his head under the doorframe and came inside. “Ever heard of the butterfly effect? They say if a butterfly flaps its wings in China, it can cause a hurricane on the other side of the world.”
“I sorta failed bio in summer school, so you might wanna hit the high points.”
Sampson continued. “When your cousin screwed up the Order of Things, that’s what she did. She changed the nature of the supernatural world, right down to the source.”
“The Dark Fire,” Ridley said in a low voice.
Sampson’s gray eyes met hers, and he smiled. “Why do you think they call us Darkborns?”
“It’s true. Sampson’s kind draw their strength from the Dark Fire,” Nox said. “So Mortal fire? Not such a big deal.”
“Yeah? What about Mortal smoke inhalation?” Link was suspicious.
“There’s fire, and then there’s fire. Let’s just say it bends to my will,” the Darkborn said, looking at Ridley. “The way guys bend to yours.”
“I thought you didn’t care what happens to Mortals?” Ridley looked at Sampson suspiciously. “I thought you didn’t get involved with Caster business?”
He shrugged. “There’s an exception to every rule. I’d hate to break up the band.”
Link stared at Sirensong’s lead guitarist with his mouth hanging open. “You’re the Magneto of Supernaturals. Holy crap.” Magneto was the one comic book character Link revered above all others. It was the highest compliment he could’ve paid Sampson.
“I’d go with Metallica,” Sampson said. “But I’ll take it.”
Link whistled to himself. “You bet your Dark balls a fire it’s a compliment.”
“So that’s it.” Nox held up the matchbook. “It’s time to take the future into our own hands. We light the fire. We set the Wheel of Fate in motion.”
Link grinned. “I’m startin’ to get what you’re sayin’. The Wheel can’t roll over us if we’re the ones pushin’ it.”
Nox handed Link the matches. “You’re not as stupid as you look. For a messed-up Incubus with Mortal limitations.”
“I get that a lot.”
Nox turned to Ridley. “You ready?”
She tossed her head. “I was born ready.” It was the second time she had tried to bluff him.
She hoped this time he believed her.
Link held the matchbook. Ridley and Sampson stood next to him, somber. They might as well have been at a funeral—which, in a way, they were.
“Incendio,” Nox said. He drew a poker chip from the inside pocket of his jacket. “Time to get this party started.”
Ridley stared at the chip as if it was haunted. She was transfixed.
“What’s that?” Link asked.
“A little something I won in a game of Liar’s Trade. A marker. I won a very powerful Cast from a very powerful Cataclyst.” Nox looked at Ridley. “Not, you know, Duchannes powerful.” He smiled. “But a hottie all the same.”
Ridley looked at him. “I guess you never know who you’ll meet at the table.”
He smiled at her, flipping the chip in his hand. “We light this on fire, and the Incendio Cast goes up in smoke. Literally. The Cast, and the club.”
“Really?” Link scratched his head. “Just like that?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never tried it before.”
Nox raised the chip.
He looked around the basement, and then up to the ceiling above them, where the main dance floor was. Rid almost couldn’t bear to watch.
“Good night, Sirene.”
Nox kissed the chip and handed it to Sampson.
“Now. Before I change my mind.”
Sampson twisted the chip in his hand and slowly held it out, palm up. “Light me up, Link.”
Rid stepped back. “Be careful.”
Link turned his head as he held the match, ready to strike. “Always, Babe.” He looked at Sampson. “It’s been real, bro. See you on the other side.”
Link flicked the match and it flared to life. The moment felt like an eternity as he waited for the flame to grow.
Nox looked away. Sampson’s jaw was set. Link took one last look at Ridley. He held the match above the chip and dropped it in Sampson’s hand.
Then everything went white.
The blinding burst of flame and heat blew everyone back. Link hit the wall behind him hard. Ridley fell next to him. Nox was on his knees.
Only Sampson was left standing. He held out his arm, with an intense ball of flame in his hand, glowing like a sun. He tossed it down the hallway toward the exit doors.
Just like Nox had wanted him to.
Within seconds, flames licked up the wooden beamed ceiling and the wood-paneled walls.
Sirene was going up in smoke and taking Nox’s dreams right along with it.
“Time to go,” Sampson said, smoking and soot-covered but otherwise unharmed.
Link stood, pulling Rid up with him. “Remind me to buy you a new shirt when we get out of here.”
“Not from where you shop.” Sampson didn’t even smile. He stared hard at the rest of them. “You need to stay right behind me, unless you want a serious sunburn.”
“Duck and cover,” Link said. “Got it.”
Sampson caught his eye. “I’m not talking about your kind of Third Degree Burns.”
“I figured.”
The fire grew before their eyes, swelling and roaring with every passing second. Wood crackled and snapped as if the whole place was somehow coming alive, if only to die again. Smoke was already filling the basement hallway, and fire rolled across the ceiling in waves. Sampson stepped out into the flames, and even though Nox had told them what to expect, it was hard to believe. The burning waves curled away from Sampson, spreading up the walls and around him, like the Darkborn was enclosed in a bubble.
When it came to Mortal fire, he was.
Nox watched in horror as the whole room ignited, surrounding them on all sides, filling the space behind them each time Sampson took a step forward.
Link reached out his hand toward the edge of the bubble.
“Don’t do it,” Sampson said. “It only works for me, hybrid.”
Link let his hand drop, patting the Darkborn’s shoulder. “You really are Magneto.”
“Just stay close.”
Ridley was behind Link, and Nox kept his hand on the small of her back.
This is going to work. It has to.
Even though the flames bent away from Sampson, the heat was intense, and the walls, floor, and ceiling began to fall apart around them, disintegrating into ash and flame and charred bits of wood.
The floor shuddered, wooden planks giving way beneath their feet as they walked. It was a life-and-death game of leapfrog as Sampson carefully led them down the hall.
Then the exodus began.
They could hear it, all around them, the feet pounding and the people screaming, even through the roaring of the flames.
One by one, the fire alarms began shrilling through the air.
The screaming only grew louder—and then quieter.
Floyd and Necro must be doing their jobs, just like they said they would.
It was all Ridley could think.
At least, it was all she could hope. That they would get the whole upstairs crowd out of the building. Because they had to.
Those girls are as tough as Sampson, maybe tougher.
Even Necro, even now.