Burn for Me (Hidden Legacy #1)(105)

To the right, the Civil Courthouse swayed and shattered. Two dust clouds boiled forth, heading straight for us, boulders of broken stone flying among the dust. I crouched, hands over my head.

The pain never came. I raised my head.

Chunks of stone littered the ground around us. None had landed in the circle. Above me, Mad Rogan levitated. His face glowed from within, the brilliant turquoise of his eyes bright, like stars. He looked like an angel.

I glanced at Adam. The fire had engulfed him, turning into a pillar. It climbed higher and higher, spinning, ten; no, eleven; no, twelve feet high.

The circle around me pulsed again. The force minced the rubble into dust, pushing it back, sweeping it against itself. Behind the park, Harris County Family Law Center disintegrated. Across Congress Avenue, the juvenile justice center fell apart, spitting out a car-sized boulder. It hurtled through the air. Oh my God.

Don’t leave the circle.

I clenched my hands into fists.

The boulder smashed against the circle and bounced off.

The circle pulsed again and again, each wave pushing the rubble out and up, crushing it into powder, again and again.

Rogan was building a wall. If he could contain the fire, it wouldn’t spread.

The pillar of fire was fifty feet tall and climbing.

The pulse from Mad Rogan toppled the next circle of buildings. Their remains joined the wall.

The pillar of fire shot up another twenty-five feet.

The wall gained another ten.

They kept racing, growing taller, wall, pillar, wall, pillar.

The pillar had to be over a hundred feet high. I couldn’t tell if the wall was higher.

The pillar of flames flashed with white. A ring of fire exploded outward, racing toward me. The fallen trees vanished, instantly turned to ash.

I braced myself and held my breath.

The fire splashed against the circle and swallowed it. I was alive. The air around me wasn’t any warmer. I couldn’t even smell the smoke. The air tasted fresh.

The fire rolled toward the wall. Please be tall enough. Please be tall enough.

The flames splashed against the barrier and came up thirty feet short.

I held my breath. It could still burn through.

All around me an inferno raged, and within its depths Adam Pierce stood, glowing with golden light, wrapped in flame, the stolen artifact on his head blazing like an angry sun.

The street turned black and glossy. The pavement had melted into tar. The Riding Cowboy had melted too, its metal slipping into the slowly moving river of asphalt. The grass under my feet remained intact.

The circle kept pulsing, compacting the wall.

The fire battered against the barrier. The outer layer of concrete chunks turned to white powder.

Please hold. Please.

Minutes passed, sliding by. I sat. I couldn’t stand anymore. My heart was tired of beating too fast. My whole body shook from anxiety. I felt punched all over.

The wall began to glow with eerie light. The concrete had turned into calcium oxide, which was now melting and producing the same kind of light that had illuminated the stage productions before the electricity took hold.

The fire raged and raged, eating at the wall.

All those people in the tunnels. If the wall broke and the fire ravaged downtown, they would suffocate from the smoke. If they didn’t cook alive first.

The wall to the left stopped glowing. I peered at it. The fire still burned, but the concrete and stone of the wall no longer lit up.

My mind struggled with that fact. I was too shell-shocked to process it. Finally, pieces came together in my head. The wall stopped glowing, which meant there had to be a space between it and the magic fire. Adam had grown the pillar of fire as wide as he could. Rogan could hold him. The blaze was contained.

Relief washed over me. A sob broke free, then another. I realized I was crying.

Bern wouldn’t die in the tunnels. The city wouldn’t di—

Another pulse rolled through me. The circle was still pulsing. The buildings beyond the wall were quaking. Oh no. Rogan was still going. If Adam didn’t burn downtown, Rogan would level it.

I jumped to my feet.

Rogan was three feet off the ground now, his face glowing, floating so high that he seemed inhuman and unreachable.

If I disrupted what Rogan was doing, the circle might collapse. We would both be incinerated. I would die. I would kill Rogan. The thought squirmed through me in a cold rush. I didn’t want him to die.

If I didn’t find a way to disrupt him, the entire downtown would collapse onto the tunnels. Instead of being burned alive, all those people would be buried alive.

Our lives for Bern’s. For the countless lives of the people inside the tunnels, for the lives of children trusting in their parents, for the lives of those who loved each other, for the lives of those who’d done nothing to deserve to die.

It wasn’t even a choice.

“Rogan!”

He didn’t answer.

“Rogan!!!” I grabbed his feet. I couldn’t move him an inch. He was held completely immobile.

I pounded his legs with my fists. “Rogan, wake up! Wake up!”

No response.

I had to get to him. If only I could get to his face. I gathered what little magic I had left.

The circle pulsed again. As that pulse reverberated through me, I pushed against it the same way I had pushed against the amplification circle, sinking everything I had into that push. Something snapped inside me. My feet left the ground and I floated up and locked my arms around Rogan. It wouldn’t last, my instinct told me. I had seconds before my magic ran out and gravity would drag me down, and I had no power left to do it again. This was my one and only shot. I had to wake him up.