Crais(29)

Damn it, now I was angry. The pain and darkness that had been constantly simmering under the surface of my personality erupted from me.

“Look, you pain-in-my-butt, I don’t have time for your childish tantrums and threats. My friends are missing, I’m stuck in this stupid rock room, I’m wondering why the hell my claustrophobia has cured itself and, since most of today’s crap is your fault, it’s in your best interest to stop pushing me.”

Her eyes narrowed and her lips started to quiver; she looked bewildered by my outburst.

“I don’t understand –” she started to say.

“I’m sure that what you don’t understand would probably span from here to the dark side of your planet. So why don’t you sit down and shut the hell up?”

My powers were snarling inside me, demanding to be let free. They wanted to wrap themselves around Fury, and probably do that dream thing. But I was getting very good at keeping them under control. They stayed on the leash most of the time now.

Suddenly she burst into flames. I clutched at my mouth to stop the shriek about to erupt. I took a step back without shifting my eyes from the spectacle in front of me. A bright blue flame encased her entire body, but she wasn’t screaming or burning to death. And there was no doubt that the flames were hot. I was getting waves of burning heat even from across the room. Fire power, she’d said, and now I understood.

Her eyes widened as they locked with mine.

Help, she mouthed to me. She couldn’t reel her energy back in.

I took a hesitant step closer. The room was getting uncomfortably warm now and the rocks behind her were a glowing red. She emitted heat like a volcano.

“You need to calm down; I’m not a threat to you. Your powers are reacting to your fear.” I spoke softly, letting my voice soothe her.

I allowed a small fraction of my power to leak out with my words, but only the calming portions. The angry part of me stayed tightly locked down.

She took a few shuddered breaths.

I could hear yells from behind me and a disturbing grinding noise. I wanted to turn around but was afraid to take my eyes off the firebug in front of me.

“It’s okay, Fury, these are just your Walker powers. You can learn to control them, but first you have to let go of the fear and also the strength. I know how addictive the sense of security is, but don’t let the powers control you.”

I had no idea at what point I had turned into the head counselor for these half-Walkers. But whatever I said had some effect. She drew the flames back into herself. The grinding noise continued behind me.

“They are coming for me now. Dune warned me not to use my powers, that they were a beacon for the nomads. They want me.” She spoke without an ounce of fear.

“What do they want you for?”

A sad smirk crossed her pale red lips. “I am to be their breeding machine for future generations of nomads. They think my power is the source they need to procreate.”

Sometimes it’s just awesome to be a woman.

She continued. “The reality is that nomads are anomalies on this world and they simply cannot breed. The only way for new nomads to be born comes from the tribes.”

“So why would they think you’re special or different?”

She laughed. “My mother was a nomad, and the only one to ever have a child. They believe I’m the key to their proliferation.”

I nodded, understanding flooding me. “The reason your mother was able to have you is because she was with a Walker. It would never have happened with another nomad.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “That’s the second time you’ve said that. What is a Walker?”

The rock behind me was starting to shift, and I finally figured out what the grinding was. They were opening the cave up. Keeping one eye on the wall, I spoke quickly.

“It seems as if we’re about to have some visitors. I’ll give you the condensed version and any questions will have to wait.”

Her eyes flicked to the slice of opening behind me now. She nodded once.

I ran through the most basic explanation of Walkers, their origins and, most importantly, the Seventine. She opened her mouth, eyes wide and shocked. I shook my head, cutting her off. She blinked but let me finish explaining my mission and the reasons we were on Crais. My story was cut off in the middle of the half-Walkers’ role when a man pushed through the rock opening. I spun around on the defensive. They wouldn’t be smacking me in the back of the head again.

The single man stepped further into the room. He was tall and domineering with strong facial features and short white hair. He oozed confidence and power. He reminded me so much of Brace that in that moment I almost fell to my knees. How is it that a metaphorical wave of pain could often be as debilitating as an actual physical blow?