Raised in Fire (Page 6)

I ripped out my sword and lunged forward.

The creature straightened and swiped. I met its two-fingered hand with my blade, lopping it off.

“Killing those birds took out part of your body, huh?” I said, dodging a swipe from its other hand. “Good to know.” I stabbed forward, getting the side of its stomach.

It screeched again and turned away, its form going blurry. It was about to change.

“Trap it,” I yelled, jumping at it. I sliced downward, catching its shoulder. A talon scraped my leather pants as the creature howled and twisted.

I jumped up and wrapped my legs around its neck, then ripped my body to the side and around. Its neck cracked. I let go with my legs and fell to all fours. My sword clattered away.

The creature’s head at an unnatural angle, it came at me, its good arm swinging. Its human face shifted into the glower of a grotesque monster with huge fangs. I’d gone and pissed it off.

“Holy beekeepers, what don’t you turn into?” I rolled to the side and grabbed my sword as magic buzzed around us.

“Get out of there, Reagan, we’ve got it,” Garret yelled from atop the fence behind me.

I dodged a foot trying to smash me as the creature righted its head. “Fast healing. Dang it. I don’t like this thing very much. At least it’s mostly slow.”

“No, you’re just damn fast,” the captain called. “Get clear.”

“You’re blocking my catch!” Garret threw a casing. A spell erupted out of it and blocked off the thing’s upward escape. Another burst of magic materialized, putting up a wall. Then another, a second wall.

“This is mine,” I said, trying to get around the thing and stab it without also tearing down the spells with my magic-filled sword.

“Get clear, then put up your wall,” the captain yelled.

“I don’t have that spell handy,” I said through gritted teeth.

The thing realized what was happening. Its edges went blurry again as it paused, changing. Hello, weakness.

I took a quick step forward and stabbed. My blade sank into its mid-back.

The aswang howled in anguish. It writhed, folding in on itself before turning back to face me. Its jaws opened, inhumanly distended, issuing forth a growling gurgle. I had no idea what was happening, but its breath could put Clarissa’s car to absolute shame. I nearly passed out from the fumes.

Garret yelled my name. Before I could take another step back to get clear of the stench, something small and black worked out of the creature’s mouth. Almost like a wisp of smoke, a little bird flapped my way. I brought up my sword to kill the magic, an easy feat, since it was moving so slowly, but without warning, a green fireball blasted into the space between the creature and me.

Weak magic that seemed to come from Garret, but strong enough to somewhat damage normal human skin, it raked across my face and ate away my eyebrows. Luckily, I wasn’t a normal human, and soaked in the delicious heat, feeling the burn deep inside of me, my own special magic answering the fire’s call. When it had died away, I saw that the little bird was gone.

Survival mode kicking in—I’d need to explain why the green fire hadn’t burned me—I yanked at my pouch’s zipper, grabbed an empty casing at random, pinched it, and only then realized it wasn’t actually empty.

Donkey balls!

I threw it away from me, no idea what it was in my haste.

Another wall went up, the same spell the others had used. Hopefully no one would notice it had happened after the fact.

I staggered away and dug around for an empty casing. Clearly putting my hand out for all those free spells hadn’t been a good idea after all. Hindsight.

I put my hand to my face, racking my brain for an excuse I could give for being unharmed. That magical fire had killed the little bird, so it should have been plenty strong to blister my face. People couldn’t know my skin was fireproof. That kind of thing raised eyebrows.

Not on me, of course, since I no longer had any, thanks to Garret. It was a good thing Callie, my mage friend, was so good at regrowing them.

“Reagan,” the captain said as he ran up, out of breath.

The creature writhed on the ground before crumbling to ash. So it was definitely dead, then.

“Are you okay?” Captain Lox gripped my shoulders and peered into my eyes. His brow furrowed as his gaze roamed my face.

“I used a spell to ward away the fire,” I blurted.

The furrow deepened.

Now on to important matters. “That kill went to me, right?” I asked. “That was mine, not Garret’s? I was the one who stabbed it.”

“Yes,” the captain said, releasing me and taking a step back, his confusion still evident. “You killed it. But without us, you probably wouldn’t have, so you’ll only get a fraction of the bonus. The rest will be divided.”

I waved that away. “Divide the whole bonus; I don’t care. I just want it in the books that I got this kill. Over Garret.”

“It will be.” The captain nodded.

“And my name will go in the books as saving Reagan’s life,” Garret said, sliding down the fence and hitting the ground too hard. He staggered and windmilled his hands, just managing to stay on his feet.

Dang.

He stalked over, all swagger and ego. A smug smile graced his pointy face. “You’re welcome.”

“Wait…what?” I asked, cold dripping down my middle.

“An aswang transfers its evil by issuing forth a tiny black bird,” the captain explained, writing something in his book. That had better not be Garret’s name under the title Reagan Savior! “That bird nearly made it to you. Had it succeeded, it would’ve forced its way into your mouth or eye and turned you into one of its kind. It’s not a real bird, obviously, but magic. You would’ve transformed, and we would’ve had to kill you. Speaking of”—he pointed at my leg with the jagged end of his pencil—“it didn’t scratch you, did it? I don’t see a hole in your pants.”

“No, it didn’t scratch me.” I shook my head. “I was just about to kill that bird thing with my sword. I wouldn’t have ingested it. That doesn’t count. Garret, of all people, did not save my life.”

“Not even a magical sword can cut through that type of magic,” the captain said without inflection.

I opened my mouth to tell him that my type of magic, which was stored in the sword, surely would have cut through that bird thing. It could cut through anything, especially dark, underworld-type magic. I was underworld-type magic.

No words came out.

There was absolutely no way I could admit to any of that. Nor could I tell the captain that if the bird thing had infected me, its evil wouldn’t have taken root. I’d had plenty of experience casting demons out of my body. It was part of my lineage—a lineage I couldn’t share with anyone unless I wanted to enslave myself to the land below.

No, I couldn’t tell the captain, but I really, really wanted to. This sucked so hard.

“You were right there without the means to kill it,” Garret said, grinding the point home, standing beside me with his chest puffed out in triumph. “It would’ve turned you into one of its kind. I’ve seen it happen. It’s immediate and not pretty. Face it, I saved your life. And what do I get for saving your life?”

“Don’t be a putz, Garret,” the captain said without inflection.

“That’s right, I get a bonus. And honors. And a write-up in our newsletter.” Garret smiled and hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. “I’m a hero. Hail to the king.”

My hands curled into fists. He had me. And now, in the eyes of the office, I was indebted to him.

“You’re welcome,” he said, flicking my last nerve with his smug, douchey smile.

Before my mind caught up with my body, my fist hit his nose. The crack made everyone blink in surprise. He staggered back and reached for his face. A moment later, blood gushed over his lips.

“Oops,” I said. I meant it.

“That’s a red flag,” the captain said nonchalantly, not looking up.

I sighed. That fifth red flag had probably been inevitable. I clearly wasn’t cut out for a routine-driven, normal life.

Clarissa hastened up, out of breath and clutching her satchel. “Reagan, are you hurt? Did it scratch you?”

“It scratched her leather pants. It didn’t pierce them.” Captain Lox closed his book and finally looked up. “I’ve half a mind to have everyone wear leather. It’s a good idea.”

“Maybe tum’one s’uld ass her why her face isn’t fried,” Garret said through his fingers, his eyes watering and half closed.

“Why her face isn’t fried?” Clarissa asked, squinting at him. “Is that what you said? Let me see your nose.”

“Reagan got blasted in the face with magical fire when Garret burned the aswang’s transformation bird,” the captain said, looking at the ashes on the ground.

“Oh my gosh!” Clarissa’s hand drifted to her chest. “Oh thank God, Garret. Quick thinking. I didn’t have a chance to tell her about that. She would’ve been a goner for sure. Oh wow, that must’ve been a close one.”

My nails dug into my palms.

“But…” Clarissa studied my face. “Oh, I see, your eyebrows are gone. But your face doesn’t look blistered or burned in any way. Was the spell old? It must’ve created a decent amount of heat if it burned your eyebrows. I’d think you’d have light blistering, at the very least. I can heal that, of course.”