“Did you hear me, Xandra?” he demands. “Move it!”
“Only if you come with me.” I grab his arm, start to tug him back even as I send a silent apology to Rachael. I love my sister, would die to protect her, but I can’t ask Declan to do the same.
He has other ideas, however. With another muttered curse, he shakes me off. Sends me stumbling several steps away from him. Then, without a backward glance, he turns and hurls himself straight into the fire.
I cry out as it swallows him whole, an insatiable, insensate beast that he has no hope of battling. That strange tingling starts deep inside me again—my magic welling up in a panicked burst. The only problem is, I don’t know what to do with it. How to wield it to help Declan or my sister.
Even knowing it’s probably suicide, I plunge into the fire after Declan. I can’t—I won’t—let him face this alone like he’s faced so many other things in his life.
I expect the worst, expect the fire to tear through my flesh and burn me alive. But amazingly, it doesn’t. Heat—stifling, overwhelming, omnipresent—surrounds me, but the flames never touch me even as they surround me on all sides.
It doesn’t make sense, at least not until I see Declan up ahead of me. The fire has attacked him, surrounding him completely as it licks at his hair, his clothes, his skin. I nearly scream at the nightmare of it, but then I get closer and realize that it’s not burning him. That, in fact, he’s letting the fire do that to him.
I’m terrified and in awe all at the same time. Sure, I’ve seen Declan play with fire before—just the other day, in his house—but every other time he’s done this, it has been fire of his own making. Fire created and sustained through one’s own magic is easy to manipulate. But this fire is different. This is the result of a bomb, of malicious intent and probably black magic; it should be completely uncontrollable. No matter how strong a call a witch or warlock has to an element, he or she can only influence, only really control, the manifestation of that element if she or he created it. At least, that’s what I’ve always been taught and it’s what I’ve always seen. Until now.
Because now, right in front of me, Declan has seized control of the flame and he isn’t letting go. He hasn’t extinguished it yet—I don’t even know if he can. But he’s definitely controlling it, stopping it from getting to me or down the hall to Rachael.
I’ve caught up to him now, and though the heat is nearly unbearable, I don’t move. I just stare, hypnotized as he manipulates the fire like it’s nothing more dangerous than a soft spring rain.
He holds his arms out in front of his body and the flames shoot up and out, into a fiery arc that meets directly above his head. And then he slowly, arduously, begins fighting the power of the fire.
More than once, the flames fight back, pushing against him, licking over him until he is completely flamebound. Horror rips through me and it takes every ounce of control I have to keep from screaming at him to just let it go. But it’s too late for that now—even I, who know nothing about the fire element except what I’ve learned from my sister Noora, can see that.
If he lets go, if he loses control—even for one second—of the beast he’s grabbed onto, it will be too late. Too late for Rachael, for me, and definitely too late for Declan. I’m scared to death that it’s already too late for him. One wrong move, one lapse of concentration, and he’ll be incinerated.
I hold my breath, squeezing my hands so tightly that my fingernails dig into my palms, all in an effort to stay completely still. I don’t want to distract him. My lungs ache from fear and the dark haze of smoke that hangs in the hallway. The smoke isn’t nearly as heavy as it should be with this much fire—it’s not pleasant, but I’m nowhere close to coughing up a lung—and I know it’s because Declan has found a way to control that, too.
Behind me, I hear people clambering up the stairs—from the noise they’re making and the words I can make out, I’m pretty sure they’re firemen. My knees nearly go weak with relief, but then I realize it doesn’t matter. Even if they are here to fight the fire, Declan is still at risk. He can’t just let go, can’t just walk away because the cavalry has arrived. The flames will jump, swallow us all whole.
Closing my eyes, I offer a whispered prayer to Isis. Not for me, but for Declan. Please, goddess, keep this brave, beautiful man alive. Keep him safe. But when I open my eyes and look again, my worst nightmare comes true.
The fire slips out of Declan’s grasp, shoots straight at the ceiling and explodes outward, completely engulfing everything around him.
I do scream then, and behind me the firemen’s voices become a million times more urgent. Even knowing it’s too late, knowing there’s nothing I can do, I rush straight for my lover.
“Declan!” I shriek, my voice scratchy from the suddenly thick smoke. My power is welling up in me, strong and electric and surprisingly painful as it courses through my body. I’m shocked by it and furious at myself for being so. If I knew what to do with it, if I’d spent the last few weeks trying to harness my magic instead of running away from it, maybe I could be of help to Declan now.
He’s directly in front of me, his entire body aflame—and this time none of it is under his control. Shrugging out of my hoodie with some distant thought of smothering the flames around him, I leap forward—only to crash into nothingness. Into a wall that shouldn’t be there. A wall that I can’t see. That doesn’t exist.
Maybe it’s because we’re soulbound, or maybe it’s just because I’ve gotten to know Declan over the last few weeks, but I know what he’s done. He’s the one responsible for the invisible wall between us. Even as he burns, he’s determined to keep me safe.
Behind me, the firemen have finally caught up. Though many of them are fire elements themselves, they carry huge extinguishers with them—there’s only so much they can do against nonmagical fire. They aim the extinguishers at the fire that surrounds Declan, but the magic-infused mist stops in midair and falls harmlessly to the ground. They look at one another, astonished, and continue to shoot.
I don’t have the heart to tell them it’s no use. All around me, the hallway is blackened, but there’s no sign of fire, no smoke except for the lingering wisps from earlier. Declan has walled up all the flames—all the danger—on his side of the barrier.
I fall against the wall, hysterical. I beat against it with my fists as I watch, impotently, as the only man I’ve ever loved burns. “Declan!” I scream. “Declan!”
Next to me, the firemen mutter to themselves. A few of them dash back down the hall as they shout into their radios. They want to come at the blaze from the other side, to attack from the windows at the side of the house. I don’t have the heart to tell them it won’t do any good, either. Declan has sealed himself up perfectly. Too perfectly. I can see that the other end of the hallway, near Rachael’s room, looks much like my end does. Burned out, blackened, but with no fire in sight. No one will be able to get to where Declan battles the fire, at least not until his magic fails.
Until he dies.
I’m on my knees now, dizzy, devastated, nearly deranged with grief. The firemen try to help, try to pull me to my feet, but I don’t even acknowledge their existence. I’m too busy clawing at the wall. I can feel my magic leaking out, feel it pressing against the barrier as it, too, searches for a way to reach Declan. But there’s nothing, no weakness in the barrier to exploit, no flaws to capitalize on.
I want nothing more than to curl into a ball and pretend none of this is happening, but I can’t look away from Declan. I won’t. He’s doing this for me, sacrificing himself so that my sister and I can live. There’s no way I will give in to my weakness, not when he is so filled with strength.