Blaze

Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

I scaled the brick wall of the alley using the claws on my glove for assistance. Once I was atop the single-floor building, I scanned the area. More of them were coming in from the fifth avenue. I sprinted along the edge of the grey roof, keeping my eyes locked on them. As I neared the crowd, one of them noticed me. He was a heavy-set man holding a hockey stick in one hand, and with his free hand he pointed up at me. Without hesitation, I leapt from the rooftop, letting rip a blood-thirsty roar from within my chest.

Men yelled out in shock and fear. Some screamed like girls as I descended upon them. It would have been comical had it not been a life-or-death matter. As I landed, flames exploded from my arms. The first of them who tried to get me received a third-degree burn from me to the face. I lashed out at another of them, an Italian classmate whose name I'd forgotten. They backed off after I'd taken about ten of their number.

I slammed my fist on the ground, jettisoning flames all around me. When the orange monstrosity dissipated, only charred corpses and the smell of burnt flesh remained. There was a gun shot to my left, and I ducked. The bricks on the wall near where my head had been exploded, sending reddish-brown shrapnel flying.

I swiveled around and clenched my fist, letting a searing hot flame gather in my palm. I spotted the guns-man, Jerry was his name, I think. He was in my year. Beside him were two more guys with pistols at hand. I flicked my wrist at them, opening my palm.

A sliver of blinding orange sprang from my hand, and they only saw as it shaped itself into an orb and burnt right through unfortunate Jerry. A split second later, there was a blast, kicking up smoke. And bringing down a small section of the wall.

There was a war cry and I heard heavy footfalls. Without looking, I caught the iron baseball bat that the thug swung at me. Tugging violently, I pried it from his hands and caught his wrist in the same motion. I grabbed his shoulder and pulled at his wrist. There was a crunch as his arm dislocated. He yelled in pain and fell to the ground, rolling about.

As I panted it out, I realized I was barely exhausted. I wanted more. Scanning the area, I found none of them standing.

Turning on my heels, I began towards the streets. Only one name resonated in my head. One hateful name: Carlos

I shook the sword off and sheathed it. Then I froze in my place. Carlos, he'd escaped. And I knew where he was headed.

I turned and sprinted back through the alleys. An ambulance had stopped by where I'd left my bike. The police were putting up yellow tape around the area. A chalk outline had been drawn where a body had been. Had someone died. I didn't leave my mind to wander.

Avoiding the rapidly-gathering crowd and authorities, I revved my bike and escaped before someone could find me. When I reached my block, I propped the bike up. No point hiding it. I didn't even change. I just sprinted up the steps and right up to the front door. I knocked, bouncing on my feet, anxiously. The door creaked open.

I felt my heart stop for a moment. I pushed the door open and stepped in.

"Hello?"

The entire place was trashed. The dining table was overturn, the couches flipped, a chair was broken and the others were all over the apartment. There was a blood stain on the wall. It was fresh.

I shut the door behind me and fell to my knees. It was over. I'd screwed up and now it was over. There was no going back. I stood up again, and that's when I saw the envelope on the door.

It was a small, high-quality envelope, the kind that posh people used when they sent wedding invites. I plucked it off the door and found it addressed to Chris Macmillan. Flipping it over, I found the flap held in place by a square, blood-red wax seal. It had an image of a castle. A Rook.