Firebinders: Marek (The Firebinders Book 1) Page 22

  Even as his own cheeks became wet with relief, Marek continued to hold the only woman who meant everything to him.

  The woman he would forever love.

  Very rarely did Marek see red, but when he and Rogue rushed to see his family home burning and Gwen in the throes of the virus they now knew was a virulent form of small pox, he had an irrational rage to scour New Orleans for Sebastian Highmore and beat the crap out of him. Back then it hadn’t mattered if they didn’t have anything concrete to connect him with the attempts on Gwen’s life. Now they had proof because he had jabbed Gwen with the virus when she had been looking for the shovel to help dig the trench around the burning house. He listened quietly as Zac recounted how the fire started. Hank was able to obtain surveillance footage from cameras in the area that showed that the Greek fire had been delivered by a drone so they had no idea who had been behind the attack. However, Hank was also able to retrieve still shots of the footage showing Gwen being attacked, Marek was filled with potent rage at the sight of Gwen being held immobile by a stranger while a platinum blond male had a syringe stuck into Gwen’s thigh. Sebastian Highmore.

  The bastard was going to pay for what he had done.

  Jarred Levinson had heard about what had happened. With everything going on, Jarred cancelled their dinner agreeing to schedule it for another time.

  Marek wasn’t going to risk taking Gwen to the hospital so she did her recuperation in his apartment in the French Quarter. Gabriel Dupuis provided round the clock security and had sent word to Cynn mortal nurses and doctors to be on alert should they be needed. Zac had no problem with Faith staying with Gwen. Marek was only too glad for her to also help heal Gwen if needed while he started the process of tying up a few loose ends. His heart was heavy at Gwen’s suffering but it became heavier when Lia confessed what she had done. Marek didn’t know what to say and for a while was tempted to give Lia a tongue lashing. But he couldn’t do that. He shouldn’t have kept her in a tight hold in the first place and allowed his sister to grow. Maybe she wouldn’t have grown up with a bratty attitude at twenty-two. They had also lost so much. Adding guilt into the mix wasn’t going to bring the house back. It was filled with both happy and sad memories. Marek took its burning to be a sign that it was time to start fresh. Even maybe away from New Orleans.

  Marek sat Lia down in his apartment’s living room after he had made sure that Gwen was resting in his bed. He held his sister’s hands.

  “Do you think Gwen will forgive me?” she mumbled, her eyes searching his. A new light of maturity lurked within them.

  “You said that in the heat of the moment, Lia,” he said. “Talk to her when she’s out of the woods. I doubt she’d even remember it.”

  Lia smiled sadly. “Oh, she will. I can still see the hurt in her face.” She closed her eyes as her own visage reflected her pain and shame. She blinked several times to stay the waterworks but failed. She huffed a mirthless laugh. “Fessing up is hard to do, isn’t it?”

  Marek looked down before nodding.

  “Our house is gone, bro.” She sighed squeezing his hands. “The memories…”

  “No, not the memories, Lia,” he said, setting aside the abject loss he felt. “Just the brick and cement. Never the memories.”

  Lia wiped the tears from her cheeks, sniffing. “Gwen will be fine, won’t she?”

  “Yes, she will.” Marek stood embracing Lia. She just has to. “I have to go and see the damage.”

  “And the Chronicles?” She searched his face.

  Marek jerked his head. “I hope they’ve not been destroyed.”

  Her eyes clouded for a moment before he saw his feisty sister lurking behind the sadness. Suddenly she smiled.

  “Who would have thought another female would finally get rid of you stifling me?”

  Marek couldn’t even manage a smile. “Rogue’s still going to watch over you.”

  Lia’s smile faltered. “No, I don’t think so.” She got her car keys and purse from the coffee table and stood. “I better go. I’ve got a lot of shopping to do for us. And Gwen.”

  “Lia…”

  His sister turned the doorknob before turning around. “Yeah?”

  “We might have to leave here. Leave New Orleans. We don’t know what Sebastian Highmore will do next.”

  Lia nodded, her face serious. “I always knew that we’d have to move especially after Mom and Dad died. We were still able to hide. But now…it’s different.”

  Marek looked down. “I’m sorry this has disrupted your life.”

  “Don’t be, bro.” Lia clucked going back to him and kissing the crown of his head. “I’m on my last year so I’ll check with the college how I can finish even if I’m not here.”

  Marek looked at his sister’s face with affection. Lia answered his unspoken question. “I’ll be fine. I’ll sleep at my place. Let me know what you decide. Where we should go, I mean.” She breezed back to the door. “I heard Gwen’s got a house in Scotland. That should be a good change of scenery.” With a wink she closed the door behind her.

  Several hours later, Marek was back inside his old home. Rogue, Hank, and Zac were with him. They surveyed the damage the fire had caused. The house looked like a spindly crown, eerie against the dark sky. The ground had burned until the edges of the perimeter made earlier. The earth was charred and caked. It was no different from the scorched earth located closer to the relatively intact garage where Marek had used his fireblood on Gwen. Parts of the house still smouldered, the embers like evil red eyes on the ground refusing to die but they were small enough to be stomped upon so that it didn’t come back to life.

  They picked their way through. Every step Marek took became a link that locked in place to form a chain around the treasured memories of his family inside his heart.

  “What happened to you in the garden?” Rogue asked. “You’ve not told us how you could be there one minute and gone the next.”

  Marek surveyed the living room—the place they all gathered in after dinner now blackened. The dining room with the charred remains of the nearly two hundred year old table hewn from one singles slab of teak, where he and his father had heated but enjoyable discussions about the firebinders, still had the remnants of Gwen’s laptop.

  “Immaru happened,” he said almost absently. Only the metal frames of the side table were left. The centrifuge that used to sit on it was on the floor, burned and melted. Beside it was the soulless refrigeration unit with shattered vials, the blood samples already eaten up by the fire.

  “Say what?” Rogue looked at him stunned.

  Marek chuckled ruefully. “Yeah, had me shocked too. I couldn’t heal Gwen in the normal way, I’d heal others. She spoke to me.”

  “Faith said she heard a voice in her head telling her she’d be able to save me.” Zac joined in. “I vaguely remember a wall of fire.”

  “Immaru protected us with a wall of fire.” Marek looked at Zac. “I didn’t know if you or the crowd saw it. At that point, I didn’t care. I just needed Gwen to get well.”

  “Holy shit…” Rogue’s eyes were wide as he tried to process what Marek had just said. “Immaru…really?”

  “Hey, there are insects who’d love to enter your mouth,” Hank groused. Rogue clamped his mouth shut.

  On the dining room wall was the unrecognizable remains of a framed painting. Pain slashed through Marek’s chest. The Matisse that had graced the wall had been his wedding anniversary present to his parents after he made his fortune. He trudged into the kitchen and could heard the ghosts of the past once more—of Lia and his mother preparing one of the many meals they had as a family.

  He looked away at the stairs leading to the second floor that now resembled a ladder leading up to the night sky.

  Nope, he wasn’t going up any time soon.

  “Is this where the Chronicles are?” Rogue’s voice punched the eerie silence once more.

  “Man, I’m just human, y’know?” Hank grumbled just then picking his way and
tripping over himself on the damaged interior. “If you don’t want me to switch on a flash light, you damn well better wait up!”

  Zac chuckled scrutinizing the black space. “What are we looking for exactly?”

  “The Firebinders Chronicles. It’s a record of our history and the names of the remaining firebinders.” Marek supplied while he stepped over ash and debris. “It’s not in a conventional safe. It’s over here.”

  He made his way into the courtyard surrounded by the dry leaves and dead wood that had wilted in the heat. He stopped in front of the lamppost, still standing but slightly bent. The glass housing of the lamp was shattered leaving soot laden jagged pieces stuck to its housing. Even here in the open air, the stench of sulfur and that dry smell that tickled the throat remained. Gripping the stand, Marek leaned the lamppost to the side. It took two more gentle tugs before the base gave way. Beneath it was a safe.

  Rogue whistled in amazement. “Atticus left something important out here?”

  Marek smirked. “We had a lot of arguments about this.” He hunched down to brush the dirt away from the safe’s surface.

  “Now can we switch on a flashlight?” Hank asked, exhaling.

  “No need.” Marek brushed his hand on his pant leg before pressing his thumb on the scanner. The pad underneath his thumb glowed moving up and down his thumbprint before they heard the click. Marek opened the safe and the scent of time rose up to greet him. He sighed with relief as he took out the huge velvet pouch. The chronicles were safe.

  “We have the chronicles, let’s go.” Rogue straightened looking around. “We’re too exposed. I don’t like it.”

  “You live for this kind of shit.” Hank scoffed. “Since when did that creep you?”

  “This is different,” Rogue spoke softly, a frown residing above his eyebrows. His eyes suddenly changed, the banked fires glowing in them.

  “Bloody hell, why can’t Faith do that?” Zac looked at him stupefied.

  “Not every firebinder can.” Just as Marek finished, several flashlights made its way towards the house, like huge fire flies.

  “You and your freaking flashlights. We’ve got loads now,” Rogue drawled sarcastically at Hank.

  “Stay in the shadows,” Marek hissed. He looked at the velvet bundle in his arms. He couldn’t let it fall to the wrong hands. “Hank—”

  “I’ll keep it safe,” Hank said second guessing Marek as he took the chronicles from him.

  “Go to the house,” Zac requested quietly, his red-orange eyes not leaving the moving lights. “Call Faith. She’ll know what to do. I’ll give you a thirty second cover to leave. That good enough?”

  “More than good enough,” Hank replied ready to sprint through the garage.

  Marek and Rogue stood on either side of Zac and watched as the men came into view. Huge burly men who stood a mere five feet away who couldn’t see them because of the cloaking Zac placed around themselves. Swiftly, Hank escaped through the gap towards the garage. The floor creaked. The flashlights snapped to where the sound emanated from. Marek saw Zac’s face harden with concentration but he was beginning to tire. The moment Hank disappeared from sight, Marek swung his arm and punched the nearest flashlight bearer.

  “Shit, Marek, you should have warned us,” Zac growled before two men launched themselves at him.

  “Ever heard about the element of surprise?” Marek ducked avoiding a hook and gunned his fist against a stomach of muscle. The man grunted and curled. Marek gave him an upper cut that sent him flying across the room. Fuck, that hurt!

  “Shut the fuck up and keep using those knuckles to good use!” Rogue snapped.

  In ten minutes, a dozen men laid on the ground, over the crumbling dining table, on the stairwell, and out in the courtyard. Marek and Rogue’s breathing seesawed out of their mouths. Marek looked at his bruised knuckles and felt the pain as he watched them mend, the skin fusing in the dark. When was the last time he got involved in a brawl? The sting of his temporary wounds told him it had been too long.

  Zac didn’t break a sweat though he had his hands on his thighs. He straightened.

  “After tonight, I’m going to need Faith.”

  Marek nodded. “Thank you. I’ll take care of Gwen from here on.”

  Zac waved his hand dismissively while still accepting Marek’s gratitude.

  One of the men stirred from his prone position grunting in pain. As Marek hauled him to his feet, his head rolled on his shoulders. Marek placed his hand on the man’s chest just below the centre of his collarbone. He willed his hand to glow. The man’s grunt became a groan and he raised his head.

  Good. He now had the man’s attention.

  “Too hot,” the man rasped.

  “And it’ll burn you through if I don’t get any answers from you, you sonofabitch!” Marek’s hand glowed in earnest. His fireblood changed to the hellfire he rarely used and rushed like a fast running stream in his veins. Shit, he hated this part of himself, detested the necessity of harm. But he’d do it all over again without remorse because they destroyed his home and nearly killed Gwen and Lia.

  “Marek,” Rogue cautioned, standing slightly behind to his left.

  The man began to struggle against Marek’s hold. Marek’s mouth twisted in macabre pleasure at the terror in the man’s eyes.

  “Who are you?” The man’s voice broke with fear.

  “The devil coming up to smell the fresh souls I can have for breakfast.” Marek let his eyes glow red. “I think I’ll continue this interrogation in Hell.”

  “No, no,” the man screamed. “I’ll tell you all I know.”

  Marek smiled unmindful of the smell of the man’s piss soaking his pants and the sound of it dripping on the floor. The fire in his palm receded to a lower level.

  “Tell me who burned my house.”

  “I did.”

  “Wrong answer.” His hand glowed. The man screamed.

  “Bannach!” Rogue snapped.

  “I swear to you I did! I operated the drone!” the man kept repeating himself the tears streamed down his cheeks.

  Marek eased the hellfire. “Why? I don’t know you?”

  “He paid me and my men to do it. I had no choice man! I’ve got a mortgage and a sick wife. I can’t die. My wife has no one to depend on.”

  Marek’s jaw clenched, remorse for what he was doing plaguing him.

  “You had a choice,” he growled. “Murder is not a choice. It’s never a fucking choice!”

  “He said he’d take care of my family if I went to prison. I need the money man!”

  “Why did you come back?” Rogue asked. “You could have already walked away.”

  The man turned to Rogue’s more diplomatic voice. “He wanted to make sure that everything was burned to the ground and if there were experiments, we had to destroy it.”

  Rogue snorted. “You think the fire didn’t destroy it?”

  “I dunno, man. He asked me to ring him and take pictures before I got my money. I can’t afford my wife’s treatments. What would you do if you were in my place?”

  “Who told you he’d take care of your family.” Rogue stepped beside Marek and the man’s eyes became wild.

  “Sebastian Highmore.”

  Gwen woke up with a start. It was pitch black. Unfamiliar surroundings. Her sense of smell picked up that she wasn’t in a hospital. Sudden claustrophobia ripped through her. Her throat constricted. She was unable to breathe.

  Stop!

  When her heart ceased whipping her panic into a frenzy, the cold gripping her body gave way to the warmth thawing her icy fear. Reality told her that a) she was in an air conditioned room and b) the room was just dark because the blinds had been drawn shut against the city lights peeking through the gaps.

  She rolled onto her back in increments. She still felt weak and the memory of the excruciating pain that lanced her entire body made her wary about each effort she made. When both her shoulder blades felt the cool sheets, Gwen let her body sink further i
nto the bed. There was no pain, only a dull ache she felt down to the marrow of her bones. She took a deep breath expelling it slowly, letting the notes of the scents her nose captured fill her.

  Marek. She was in Marek’s room.

  The events leading to where she was assailed her. Marek had been there when she truly believed she was going to die. Sebastian told her, as the virus entered her system that he had given her a dose of the small pox. However with the symptoms she had exhibited she realized that it was a modified strain. The virus didn’t mutate that fast. She wanted to tell Marek not to touch her, to stay away from her because of the virus, but nothing came out of her mouth. Instead he took her wrist first then took her body into his arms. The fire that emitted from him was different. It was hotter. More painful. Her forehead creased at the remembered agony – of a pain that she never thought possible. It ripped her to shreds. Her veins felt as though they were going to explode. Her muscles felt as though they were on fire and being stripped away from her as her blood heated inside her. She felt as though she was being boiled alive. She didn’t know whether she was lucid or dreaming but the dream she had in the hotel came hurtling back into her consciousness. The plague, death, fire, and Marek.

  And the words, ‘…I have fallen for you. I love you…” Had she heard Marek right?

  Too tired to cry and even hope, Gwen ran her hand on the surface of the bed so she could at least find something more solid and with it a light switch. Any light switch would do to help her get her bearings. She found a button on the side of the bedside table. The recessed lights behind the headboard switched on.

  She lay on a king sized bed with dark blue silk sheets. Facing her on the opposite wall was a huge plasma television slotted between two wooden shelves. These shelves had small clay statues illuminated by soft light that looked like museum pieces and that the run of the mill interior design fixtures for a bedroom.

  She swung her legs slowly over the edge of the bed and her eyes scrunched shut to allow the weakness in her limbs to subside. Inching her feet down on the thick carpet she stood, her fingers still propped on the bed lest she fall. She walked on stiff legs towards what she could only assume was the bathroom. At least she hoped it was and not just a huge walk-in closet. The trip to empty her bladder was tiring as it was.