Page 98 of Of Flame and Fury
“Celia’s alive,” he says.
Johnny doesn’t move. Except for the choked sob that slices my throat, neither do I. “How?”
“The lake is protecting her. It ripped the Nyte apart and carried her to safety. Aric is with her. Nothing can harm her.”
Gemini’s neck cracks as he turns it from side to side. “You ready, love?”
I nod. Celia is alive.
That doesn’t mean Johnny gets to live.
Chapter Thirty
Johnny doesn’t hesitate. He sets his Nytes loose. He lost his chance at Celia, and now he must answer to us.
The bulls launch forward, each pound of their hooves against the pavers surging their turbulent fire. Gemini dives for me, yanking me out of the way. His twin leaps over the charging bulls, growling as he guns for Johnny.
The bulls are gargantuan in size and unspeakably fast. Both qualities work against them. Their size and weight drive them to the far end of the stables, their hooves raising sparks as they slap them against the stone flooring to attempt to slow down.
The orange bull bumps into the red when it tries to turn. The red retaliates, biting off his brethren’s ear and spitting it on the ground. The orange roars at the red, spitting fire at him until they remember us. They scuff at the ground, snorting with rage and assembling to barrage us.
Everything happens at once. The leopard, the one that prowls on and protects Johnny’s back, leaps from his skin and slams into Gemini’s twin as he reaches Johnny. The beasts tumble away, their powerful jaws snapping and their claws raking the other’s skin.
Johnny swipes the jug, grabs tight to the painting, and bolts toward the rear exit. At the sound of snapping bone, he tumbles to the ground, clasping the sweep of his neck and howling in pain from the injury the wolf inflicts to his leopard.
As one of the tats lining his skin, Johnny felt the initial impact. It’s not enough to cripple him, but it does slow him down. He crawls ahead, dragging his jug and painting with him.
Panic spreads along Johnny’s features when he realizes the bulls haven’t killed us yet. I want to take Johnny out, now, but I can’t spare the moment. I don’t know what these bulls are capable of, and I don’t want us to die trying to kill Johnny.
Gemini nudges me aside. “I’ll lead the bulls out and away from you.”
The bulls take off at high velocity, the temperature that rises from my core forcing Gemini to give me ample space. “You can’t fight something with flames without me,” I tell him. “And you can’t herd them out alone.”
As if sprayed by fuel, the blustering flames immersing the bulls shoot upward, hammering the vaulted ceiling and eating through the wood. I lash out, spinning my hands and projecting my swirling white fire into a sphere.
My quick reaction barely saves me. The orange bull tucks his head and rams me, knocking me to the ground, the tip of one fiery horn scraping my protective fire just below my chin.
The bull bellows, orange flames spilling from his mouth. The fire shield I manifest guards me against the bull’s flame, but not the entirety of his crushing impact. I’m pinned by his massive size, his nasty breath spreading steam across my face.
Damn it. How many of these things can land on top of me in one night?
My amplifying heat burrows me into the ground, cracking the pavers and disintegrating them to form a nice cushy bed for me and the nine hundred pounds of bovine straddling me.
The bull hammers his head, smashing his horns repeatedly and trying to break through my shield. I push my hands up, screaming from the effort it takes to maintain my protection and manipulate my power to keep some distance between us.
White flames spread farther past my head and feet. The effort of my will augmenting my heat to disastrous levels. In one mighty jolt, I toss the bull up and through the roof. I roll away and into an empty stall, but it’s not far enough. The bull crash lands back like a meteor, the collision taking out a wall and the stall I’m hiding in.
The stall and the pieces of wood I’m buried in are ablaze. I curse, groaning from the jolt. Sparky kept our fire going, the lively heat and flames dissolving the chunks of roof raining down. I force myself up on my hands and knees and drag myself from the deathtrap.
A sinister neigh has me moving faster. I poke my head out of the demolished stall. Johnny’s armored Pegasus is awake, he lifts his head from the canvas, his demonic horse sounds becoming increasingly agitated.
Johnny sits on the floor, his legs parted, sorting through the shattered jug pieces. The roof is engulfed and the air thick with smoke and unfathomable heat. And there’s Johnny, feverishly licking fragments of broken glass.
“Fuck.” He whimpers when he cuts his tongue. He stretches, reaching for a larger piece. He’s crying, and it’s hard to understand him, but I get enough. “I’m coming, baby. It’s okay. Daddy will be with you soon.”
He stumbles to his feet and to the canvas, hovering over the painting as he opens his mouth wide. Blood from his tongue drips onto the Pegasus. The horse neighs, opening his mouth to take more of Johnny. Johnny smacks the horse in the head, adjusting his chin so no more than necessary falls to the creature.
My head spins from the rush of magic seeping into the air. The Pegasus’s eyes turn a sadistic red, greedily gobbling the meal “Daddy” offers him.