Fireborn

8 ¦ Frenzied Firebrands

With his arm still wrapped around my shoulders, Peter led me through the smoky halls of The Hungry Goblet. All the patrons stopped talking and stared at us as though he were the God of the Underworld escorting me through the pits of Hades.

Even though the half-timbered, dingy establishment was packed to bursting, somehow the sea of black and red scoundrels parted before us. We didn't have to cross the River Styx--Peter's mere presence created a path of dry land.

Some patrons tipped their hats to him, while others bowed their heads or slurred a greeting of camaraderie in various languages and dialects. Peter responded to each person in their respective native tongue. Even the Warriors saluted him.

That was the power of a Defender.

Wrapping the coat tighter around me, I huddled closer to Peter. His presence felt like some kind of shield from their villainy.

What am I doing here?

"Another recruit," I heard a patron whisper in a deep voice.

I whipped around to see a middle-aged dwarf with a torn, sullied red ribbon and a tattered, dirty uniform. He was talking to a Human Rogue dressed in black, faded armor, his face hidden behind a curtain of dark, long, dirty strands.

"Pretty one this time," the Rogue replied.

When the dwarf grinned, I shuddered at his broken array of rotten, yellowed teeth. "You think he's finally fallen?"

"This way," Peter whispered.

He lent me a hand of support as we descended the narrow, dark stairwell. "Where are you taking me?" I asked. "What is this place?"

"Our headquarters," came his cryptic reply. "For now."

When Peter opened the door, a cacophony of cheers and bombastic shouting made me recoil. Casting him a suspicious glare, I shook my head and headed back up the stairs.

He grabbed me by the hand, and a tiny shock like lightning traveled up my arm. I shivered at the strange sensation. For a moment, Peter closed his eyes and the tingling dissipated.

"Liselle, wait."

"I told you," I snarled in reply, ripping my hand away. "I don't do rallies. I'm not a radical like you."

"Please, give me a chance." His gray eyes twinkled with a mixture of mischief and curiosity. "Give the Fireborn a chance. Aren't you the slightest bit curious?"

Absolutely I was. I needed to see them if only to prove to myself that my visions were fake. Demons didn't exist. Everyone knew that. Peter would show me some kind of elite soldier or weapon, and I could leave with a light heart. 

Still, I wasn't a fool. I wouldn't let him drag me into his radical politics.

"Why should I trust a Rogue?"

Peter's face fell. "You disappoint me, Liselle. I'd think a woman of your intellect would be a bit more open-minded."

My spirit wavered. I was open-minded! But Father died due to his radical politics, and my mother died from grief. How could I blindly follow the same path like a moth to a flame?

But if this information could somehow protect Bragda--

"Besides, there's someone you need to see," he added.

"You have thirty minutes," I said in a harsh tone, gesturing with my index finger. "No more, no less."

"Oh, I think you'll want more when you see this."