Page 33

Keahi

I wake up alone in the woods, relieved to see it’s still dark around me since I’ve probably only been out for a moment.

Relieved to note no major injuries and that I’m still alive.

Malia used the same move she did three years ago; I think, but then quickly shut those thoughts down.

That means nothing.

This girl is not Malia, not the girl I used to know. Not the girl I steadied on the railing in the library, not the one I let sleep on my lap, and definitely not the one I hugged tightly after our kiss.

My chest is tight, and my heart feels cold.

It was not real, I think, but every time I’m sure of that, Malia uses one of our inside jokes or acts the way she used to for a beat, and it’s hard not to get my hopes up.

Maybe she’s trying to tell me something with these slip-ups. That she’s still in there and she can be saved.

I shake my head.

She’s one of them, part of the organization I’ve been training to destroy for over a decade.

She clearly doesn’t need any saving.

I stand up and walk back home.

"Look who answers his phone again," my supervisor chides.

Even over the phone, I can tell he is pissed.

"Sorry, Flint, I was on a walk."

"And you didn’t have time to report back before?" I roll my eyes at him.

I’m sorry, I just learned that the girl I once cared about is now the personification of everything I want to destroy.

"I failed.

Six of them were robbing a bank and one kept me busy."

"You want me to believe that you weren’t able to win a one-on-one?" He laughs at me.

"I was distracted, it won’t happen again," I say through gritted teeth.

"Distracted by what?" he asks, suspicion coating his voice.

I mentally curse myself and take a deep breath.

"Malia’s the one that fended me off.

She knew most of my moves." I keep my voice steady and distant but hear my supervisor sigh.

"So we do have a problem now that she’s resurfaced.

Did you let her get away?”

“Of course not! I admit I got a little lost in the past while we were dueling but I planned on bringing her back.

Arresting her and her crew.”

There’s a long pause.

“Okay.

In that case, don’t worry about the mission. I’ll make sure it won’t happen again."

"What do you mean, you’ll make sure of it? I’ll make sure I don’t slip up again.

You don’t have to do anything.”

“I am the one distributing missions.

If there’s a sighting of her, I won’t call you.

It’s as easy as that.”

“Whoa, slow down that line of thinking.

You don’t need to reassign any of my missions.

I’m your first call. I always am when it’s nearby. I won’t be distracted again."

"I don’t think-"

"Flint, I said it’s fine.” I cut him off.

I don’t need his pity, especially since I don’t care.

She’s made her decision. I now saw it first-hand. I have to get over whatever reservations I had about fighting her and do my job.

"Okay," he says after a beat of silence.

We say our goodbyes and I am left standing alone in my living room, feeling an odd mix of emotions.

There is definitely anger and frustration, but loss is the most prominent, somehow.

I mourned her for four years; this shouldn’t be any different.

I thought she was gone and she is.

To me, she is. She has to be. I can’t let any sort of wishful thinking get in the way of my job. Not when it’s the one thing I have in life.

The next two days pass quietly and without any missions.

It’s absolutely terrible, being left alone with my thoughts and nothing to do.

Because of that, I’m more than glad when I finally receive a call from Flint. Even though the mission involves working with others, which I usually never do, I am desperate enough to do just about anything.

I meet with the others at the agreed place and am filled in on all the details by Dave, an older guard.

Five Shadow Handler inmates are moved from the interrogation rooms below the academy over to our secure prison.

It’s not a long distance, but if news about this somehow got out, we’re to expect an appearance from the Dark Fraction. We’re here to ensure the inmates arrive where they’re supposed to before the prison guards take over.

It is not the most exciting mission, so my enthusiasm is only partly present.

The chances of Shadow Handlers appearing should be slim since very few people should know about this kind of transport in the first place.

Nonetheless, I follow the others as we head after the armored car. We thread through small alleyways to make our job easier and to not block traffic as the car moves at our pace.

Ten minutes in, I hear a noise from above and immediately snap to alert.

I scan the rooftops of the buildings around us and see my colleagues do the same.

I can’t see anything, but my gut is telling me that sound wasn’t just some bird.

There’s a flash of movement on a surrounding rooftop, but I catch nothing concrete even as I immediately whirl towards it.

Dammit.

It must be the Shadow Handlers. They have a way of moving so swiftly they’re barely identifiable. I just need to figure out where and how many they are.

If they brought long-distance weapons, we’d be sitting ducks.

The familiar whistle of an arrow being released registers and all of us guards whip up some sort of shield at the same time.

The arrow bounces off the dirt wall one of my fellow guards created, and instead of trying to shoot us again, the Shadow Handlers drop from the sky like a murder of giant ravens.

They roll the fall off and corner us as silently as cats.

So much for boring.

I get ready to fight when something catches my eye. A silhouette I will always recognize. Malia. I don’t have time to fully look at her, getting attacked the next moment.

The fight escalates quickly, and I hear grunts of pain everywhere around me.

The scene is so chaotic, I don’t even know who is winning.

All I’m aware of is that on my right, two earth handlers are currently fighting Malia.

I watch in horror as one shoots a dirt bullet right through her stomach.

Her eyes widen and her hands snaps to her wound where scarlet blood quickly covers them.

The earth handlers move on to another person of the Dark Fraction, leaving Malia for now to deal with the dozen or so other opponents. Malia staggers back and leans against the wall, visibly stupefied.

I can see a hint of panic in those icy blues and something in my stomach twists, wondering if she’s thinking about the last time she was shot just like I am.

My hands grow clammy, and my first instinct is to walk over to her and help her.

Still, I don’t move, reminding myself that she’s the enemy.

Malia looks up and meets my eyes.

For a moment, I could have sworn I saw the girl I used to know, but before I can dwell on it, she averts her eyes and starts healing her wound.

It’s clear to see that she is better at fighting than healing, but I’m sure she will be fine.

I remember I’m in a fight of my own and turn back to my opponent.

My lack of focus is rewarded with a blast of fire shooting toward my face.

I try to summon my own fire to shield the worst of it but am too slow and feel the heat scorch the palms of my hands instead. I hide a shout of agony behind clenched teeth as I experience an injury by my own element for the first time ever. A look down at the aching limbs confirms that the skin is aflame like it would be for every other person. Holy shit.

Before I get the chance to heal myself and retaliate, my opponent comes at me again, this time drawing a longsword from the sheathe at his waist.

I rotate my body to the left, evading his attack as I step past him, but the pain is making me dizzy, and I lose my balance.

I stumble and fall, rolling to the side so my shoulder takes the worst of the fall rather than my hands.

I pant, cursing as my eyes sting.

Who would have thought that fire can hurt so damn much.

I get back to my knees, trying to push past the pain to focus on my battle all the while feeling fucking helpless. Without my hands, I can neither produce my own fire nor can I fight without my powers.

Foreign panic simmers in my gut.

I can’t defend myself and there’s no one around to have my back.

I’m still on my knees when I look up to see my opponent jump, his sword is coming down toward me in a grand arc. Resigned and desperate, I duck my head behind my arms, very well aware that it won’t save me, and wait for the contact with his sharp blade. A contact that never comes.

I peek up to find my opponent unconscious on the ground.

My eyes drift to the wall to find Malia already looking at me.

Her expression is hard and unreadable, but I know for a fact that it was her that just saved my life. But why?

She breaks our eye contact and rushes away.

I am dumbfounded and stay still until I notice that there is no more fighting around me.

It dawns on me that Malia ran after the car, and I fall into step. There are a few bodies on the ground, but I don’t stop to see if they are enemies or not. I don’t see another person until I reach the destination of the car.

"Good to see you made it boy," Dave says.

I nod in response, trying to catch my breath.

"Did the car get here?" I ask.

"Yes.

You can go home; we will take care of the wounded.

I see you’ve got yourself to take care of." He gives my blistered hands a pointed look. I nod one more time before leaving.