Page 81 of Of Flame and Fury
A small cry finds its way to my throat. “Jesus, Misha. What am I going to tell Celia?”
His head bops up and down when he lifts it. I jolt, beating back a scream. “You can tell her I’ll always love her.”
“You’re alive.” A few curses follow before I finally move, my hands grip the vine, yanking hard to see if something will give.
“Look to my feet,” he gasps. “The vines…they’re tied below.”
What I mistook for a knot in the tree is a knot of vines covered with mud. I glance over my shoulder. I’m in a canyon of sorts, it’s a chilly and damp environment scattering goose bumps across my skin. In the distance, fallen trees line the horizon, abandoned like Johnny’s past self.
I pause as a thought occurs to me.This whole place is a lot like Johnny’s past.
Johnny was once this colorful being, very much like the drawings and creatures inked on his skin. He was worshiped by thousands, this attractive young man who held the underground rock world by the balls. Except then we came along, and it was gone.
Instead of reckoning with the hurt he endured and that he caused, and remembering the great moments as something beautiful, he abandoned it as it never was.
This canyon isn’t really a canyon. ItisJohnny’s past.
“Taran,” Misha gasps. “What are you doing?”
I pretend to tug on the rope. “Nothing,” I say. “Just trying to figure out how I’m going to get you out of here. There’s no door, you know?”
He laughs. “You may start by freeing me.”
I pretend to tug again, easing out of his reach.
“What are you doing?” he asks again.
For someone I found in his condition, he doesn’t sound as weak as he should. “This isn’t working,” I say. I find a piece of wood and back away. “I should try something else.”
My magic isn’t working, but I’m counting on Sparky’s strength to remain intact. I’m going to need it soon. From where I stand, Misha is no longer working as hard to keep his head up. Nope. He has plenty of energy for that and more than enough to kill. Which is exactly what he’s trying to do to me.
“Taran,” he calls, drawing my name out like a song. “Don’t you want to help your old pal?”
I back away, gripping my weapon tight. “My old pal doesn’t use words like ‘pal,’” I remind him. “He also doesn’t cry like a little peon and allow needle dicks like Johnny Fate to tie him to a tree.”
He laughs, his shoulders shaking as the vines at the base of the trunk begin to unravel. “You’re not as stupid as I thought.”
“You mean as Johnny thought,” I correct. I motion around. “All this is Johnny. His thoughts, his bitterness—those Nytes? They’re not just part of him. They are him.”
Oh, and fake Misha doesn’t appreciate me calling Johnny out one bit. “You freak—”
“For once in your pathetic life, be original, Johnny. Call me something I haven’t heard.” I scream at the sky as if he’s somehow up there. “Stop being the loser you always were and the weakling everyone laughed at. Show some balls despite your small, mangy dick—”
I barely duck out of the way of a swinging vine. I’ll never run as fast as Celia or even Shayna. That doesn’t mean I don’t haul ass across this stupid canyon.
Sharp rocks stick up through the mud, and broken bits of tree litter the ground. I don’t feel them as I trample through the terrain, and I barely sense the cold mud smearing my soles. Whatever magic Johnny fed into this place to make it what it is, is weakening. What remains is going straight into his version of Misha with the sole intent of making me suffer.
My breath is no longer visible, another sign there’s nothing much to this place anymore. Johnny is losing power fast. It would be a great time for my family and friends to find that stupid Fate and kill him.
Son of a bitch.My lungs burn as I race up an incline. It would also be a fine time to sign up for a gym membership and get my ass into shape.
The sound of pained grunts fills my ears. Misha is gaining ground fast. He may not possess the same power or strength the real Misha does, that doesn’t mean I can kill him on my own. Johnny’s magic continues to suppress and screw with mine. This version of Misha may have more than enough to take me out.
I reach the top of the incline. If I were Celia, I’d charge down this hill gracefully without slowing. But I’m me, so I cautiously maneuver down. My care costs me. I’m not a third of the way down when Misha tackles me, and we’re sent tumbling.
The rocks and debris aren’t real. Misha still somewhat is. The impact of his body colliding with mine hurts like a mother and forces the air brutally from my lungs. I lose the stick I found as we land at the bottom, near a brook, with me on top of him. The impact stuns him. I punch him in the nuts with my right arm as I scramble away.
He hollers, grabbing his crotch. Sparky hits harder than I do, except she needs my help to do it, and I’m barely able to move.