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Fiery tendrils snake out, wrapping around the gunman, and a series of shots explode as the powder in his bullets ignites.
He screams, either from the fire or from being shot multiple times by his own weapon. My flames eagerly slide down his throat, cooking him from the inside out.
His partner panics and runs away from the fire toward the safety of the convenience store, seeming to have forgotten in his instinctive need to escape that I’m still here.
Standing, I swing my arm out at throat height, and he clotheslines himself right into it. His feet shoot out from under him, and his back slams into the ground, his skull hitting with a hollow crack.
I straddle the gaping man and grab his shirt by the collar.
His wild eyes meet mine. “We were told you lost your demon.”
Anger twists my features, and I lean closer to snarl. “I’m a fucking fire witch, asshole. I don’tneeda demon.”
Fire crawls from my hands onto his clothes, and he lets out a panicked shout as he tries to escape my grasp.
I plant a knee on his chest to keep him pinned. “Tell me how you found us before I barbecue you just like I did your partner.”
“You’ll just kill me, anyway.” His eyes roll as sweat breaks out on his face and the smell of piss joins the scent of melting metal and fire in the air.
“I might,” I drawl in agreement. “Or I might use you as a messenger for the person who hired you.”
He slaps at the flames on his chest. “I don’t know. It was anonymous!”
“Did you know that fire witches can stop flames from burning you?” I ask.
His eyes dart to his shirt, which hasn’t burned beneath the fire that crawls over his chest.
“That means that I can also direct them to only burn specific parts of a person.” I send small tendrils to crawl up his cheeks toward his eyes. “How hot do you think eyeballs need to get before they pop? Or do you think they’ll just cook inside your sockets?”
“The job came through a third-party source,” he babbles, rattling off a website. “We were supposed to grab the blond girl and take care of anyone who tried to stop us! That’s all I know! The drop-off location won’t be set until they have confirmation that we have the kid.”
“How did you find us?” I repeat.
“We got a tracker on the van,” he pants out.
“Bullshit,” I growl. “We swept for trackers.”
“It’s spell tech,” he whimpers. “Attached to the license plate. New stuff.”
Great, just what we need.
I pat my hands over his pockets but find them empty. “Where’s your phone?”
His eyes dart to the flames dancing at the corners of his eyes. “It was in the car.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” I drawl. “That means there’s no way to deliver a message, huh?”
His eyes widen in terror. “No, please—”
Fire cuts off his words as it engulfs him, turning his body to ash in seconds.
I rise and dust off my pant legs before striding to the small convenience store, where I find Flint huddled in the candy section, his revolver at the ready.
His blue eyes meet mine. “Everything good?”
“It’s taken care of.” I raise my voice. “You best head home, Henry. I’m afraid your gas station is about to catch on fire.”
“Well, I suppose that’s what we have insurance for. I’ve been needing to replace the pumps, anyway.” The old man rises from behind the counter. “Just make it look good on paper.”
