It was no use. The field was fully in flame now, driving me toward the road in a broad, shrinking arc.
Out of desperation, I softened the ground beneath my feet and dropped into a sinkhole of powder-soft sand, plunging grave deep into the earth. I hardened the top as quickly as possible, and felt the thunder as the animals charged on, chasing shadows.
The pressure of the sand and earth around me was intense—cool, insistent, constant. I struggled not to fight it, concentrating instead on holding my breath and staying calm, calm, calm. Seconds ticked by, slow as torture. I counted every pulse beat.
When I could no longer resist the need to struggle for breath, I reversed the process, hardening the sand beneath my feet in stages, and rose from the ground like a dusty, pink-haired Aphrodite. . . .
. . . Into a blackened, stubbled, smoking emptiness like the shores of hell. The fire had passed over me and was sweeping toward the road, leaving smolders and sparks behind, and little else.
There was no sign of the mountain lions or the bears. They had lost me, and continued to race on to the safety of the trees, or veered toward the road.
I felt exhausted, bruised, and smoke soaked as I limped toward the line of flames and black billows. Before I reached it, the last of the grass was consumed to twisted ash, the wind carried sparks across the road, and the field on the other side of the pavement began to burn.
As smoke cleared, blown by the constant wind, I saw that the patrol car was intact, though smoke stained, and so was the Victory. The car doors opened.
Both policemen were safe.
There was no sign of Luis.
Chapter 13
I SEARCHED UNTIL my strength failed, but there was no trace of him. No sign of his body, either. It was dimly possible that he had been caught by the animals and dragged into the trees, but I thought he was too good an Earth Warden to have gone without a trace. And without a fight.
He had simply vanished into thin air, like his niece before him.
And now I was alone.
I had, at least, earned the respect of the two policemen. Styles required no explanations of me; he simply accepted it, perhaps too focused on the enormity of his missing child to care about any abilities Luis and I might have displayed. He would, I thought, find some logical reasons to forget or dismiss it all. Humans were well-practiced in the art of denying what did not fit their neatly ordered view of the world.
His partner Cavanaugh, however, seemed less willing to shrug it off. “But how did you take down a cat like that? I mean, it’s a friggin’ mountain lion, not a tabby, and I can’t even get my cat to the vet without getting my face clawed off.” We were standing at the edge of the road, staring out at the blackened field. I had given up roaming in search of my missing Warden, and simply waited.
What I waited for, I couldn’t say. Perhaps I was just tired of losing people.
“It’s a simple thing,” I said wearily. “Any vet could do it. Pressure points.”
“Pressure points?” he echoed, eyebrows rounding in disbelief. “You’re kidding. I watch the Discovery Channel, and I never heard of anything like pressure points on a mountain lion. And, anyway, those big cats aren’t like African lions—they don’t travel in packs like that. It’s not natural. And the bears—what the hell was going on? I’ve never seen black bears attack like that.”
“The fire,” I said. “Driving animals out into the open.”
He was already shaking his head. “Panicked animals keep on running—they don’t stop to attack everything in their path. I don’t get it, but I don’t think I want to, right? This is some kind of CIA thing—you’d tell me but you’d have to kill me?”
And then Officer Styles turned and said, “You’re an Earth Warden.” I was temporarily surprised into silence. He didn’t wait for my answer in any case. “Christ, I can’t believe this.”
“How do you know of the—”
He made a sharp, angry gesture. “My wife opted out of the Wardens about ten years ago. She was a Fire Warden. They did that surgery on her, the kind that blocks powers.”
The world took on a different reality to me in that moment. There was a connection: Wardens. Children of Wardens. “Has your son displayed any kind of talents?”
“No, of course not. He’s five.”
Neither Manny nor Angela had referred to Isabel having such abilities, either, and it would be extremely rare for them to manifest so early.
But not impossible. Luis had told me himself that his abilities had begun to make themselves known at an early age.
Styles was watching me closely. “This kid you’re chasing, she’s his niece. He’s a Warden, right?”
“His brother also was,” I said. “There is a strong genetic disposition for the abilities to run in families, although it does occur spontaneously, as well.” I had studied the phenomenon of Warden abilities in humans for a long time, seeking to discover why they developed, and how to stop them from doing so. I had found no answers.
Officer Cavanaugh was looking at the two of us as if we’d sprouted tentacles. “What in the hell is a Warden? You mean, like a prison warden? Wait, are you talking about those crazy con artists who put on that show for the news in Florida?”
Neither of us paid him any mind. “You think these people—whoever they are—are grabbing Warden kids,” Styles said. Muscles jumped along his jawline, as if he were resisting the urge to bite. “My God. How widespread is this?”
“I don’t know. The Wardens are—” Secretive. Devious. Embattled. “Not inclined to share their information with those beyond their circle. If there have been other Warden children abducted, the fact that the parents were Wardens would not have been noted in any police reports. We would have to cross-reference lists of Wardens with parents who have reported their children as missing.” It was a difficult time for the Wardens, and that made it a perfect time for their enemies to strike. Many parents, if they were off traveling with Lewis Orwell’s party, might not even know yet that their children were missing, but I couldn’t believe it to be so widespread. This had the feeling of cold, clinical planning, and a laser focus.
Luis could gain access to Warden records. If he’s still alive, part of me whispered mockingly, but I hushed it. He was alive. I had taken energy from him, and our bond had grown steadily stronger. I would have known if his life had been snuffed out. I had known when Manny . . .
No. He was alive, and had either been taken or followed a trail without me. Or perhaps even both. He could have been lured away and then captured. Not impossible, in all the confusion. He might have even gone willingly, if they had used Isabel to draw him in.
A tremor of rage went through me, burning a red-hot wire trail from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet. Those who had done this—who continued to do it—would pay dearly. I had been born into flesh without an instinct for mercy, and what little I had learned had been burned away by this latest affront.
“What can we do?” the other policeman asked. I took a deep breath and deliberately banked the fire inside of me, saving it for a more appropriate time and target.
“You can start by looking through your records,” I said. “Any missing or abducted children.”
Styles’s face could have been formed from concrete. “You got any idea how many of those there are every year?”
“An unpleasantly large number?” I didn’t wait for confirmation. “We have little time, Officer Styles. Luis may have no time at all. I must find him and Isabel. I pledge to you that if I find your son, I will bring him back to you safely, but I need to go. Now.”
“Go where?” That was a reasonable enough question. I had no reasonable answer.