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Glass and metal and dozens of sparks swirled above his head like a field of stars. He reached up and touched one of the sparks. He hissed when it singed his finger. He pulled his hand away, shaking it out. He swayed his head from side to side, choking on a laugh when the glass and metal and sparks swayed with him.
He turned slowly toward Smoke. He grinned at her. He puffed out his chest, put his fists on his hips, and said (in a ridiculously deep voice), “It’s time to take out the trash.” Rebecca Firestone better have gotten that on film because he was going to rewatch theshitout of it.
“Nicky,no,” Gibby shouted.
“Nicky,yes,” he growled, like a badass.
And then he moved.
He ran for Smoke, now solid. The sparks and glass swirled furiously, attaching to the metal struts, causing them to glow and glitter. Mateo’s eyes widened as he saw Nick coming and raised his own hands, electricity snarling across his fingers. Nick jerked his head, sending the ember-hot struts flying toward Smoke. As they hurtled toward her, electricity flew from Mateo’s fingertips, the snap and snarl of blue light racing next to the struts. If their aim was true, they’d clip her, not kill her, which would hopefully be enough to give them the upper hand.
But her body turned to smoke, and the struts and arcing electricity flew right through her, metal quivering as they hit the wall in a shower of sparks, the electricity snapping into nothing.
Nick tried to stop, but the floor was wet with melting ice. He slid into Smoke right as she became corporeal. He bounced off her, but before he could fall to the ground, she wrapped a hand around his throat, lifting him up, his feet kicking into empty air. She raised him above her as he choked, her fingers digging in as he slapped at her arm, trying to get her to let him go. No use.
“You,” she said, mouth twisted in a sneer. “I have had enough ofyou.”
“Feeling is mutual,” Nick managed to say. Her grip tightened, cutting off his air. Inky-black splotches began to filter into Nick’s vision, and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’tbreathe—
With a yell, Gibby appeared behind Smoke, running toward them. When she was still six feet away, she leapt, hands clasped above her head in one fist, bringing them down to smash Smoke’s head. Which would have beenepicas all hell, except before the impact hit, Smoke vanished in a black cloud, causing Gibby’s hands to smash into Nick’s shoulder as she collided with his chest, knocking them both to the ground. Gibby landed partially on Nick, who blinked slowly up at the ceiling.
Smoke re-formed above them. Her expression was pinched as she said, “I hate children.”
And then she screamed, whirling around, slapping at her back. Behind her, Jazz stood, lowering her hand, hair fluttering around her face. Sticking out of the middle of Smoke’s back was one of Jazz’s heels, the tip embedded in her skin.
“It’s about time I got to stab something,” Jazz snapped, helping Gibby up as Smoke fell to her knees. “Try that again, and the next shoe goes in your damneye.”
Nick gasped when Pyro Storm crashed down next to him, rolling violently, costume torn on his shoulders and chest, drops of blood leaving a red smear on the ground. He landed on his stomach, grunting as he pressed his hands and feet flat against the ground before pushingup, legs kicking out as he flipped back ontohis feet. He swung his arm out in a flat arc, fire shooting from him, melting a block of ice hurling in their direction.
“Get up,” Pyro Storm spat, grabbing Nick by the arm. Dizzy, Nick clung to Pyro Storm, their faces inches apart. They breathed the same air, in and out, in and out, and if they were going to die, if these were going to be their last moments on earth, Nick wasn’t going to waste them.
He said, “Dude, I lo—Look out!”
Nick shoved Pyro Storm as hard as he could. The Extraordinary fell back, a sheet of ice flying between them, missing both of them by inches. Nick was about to rush back toward Pyro Storm when hands grabbed his shoulders, turning him around.
Smoke grinned at him. “Hello.” And then she punched him in the face.
Nick fell back, lip split, blood arcing as he collapsed backward to the floor, bright lights flashing before his eyes. He heard someone shout his name, but it was faint, negligible. He felt like he was underwater, moving slowly. His limbs were heavy. He wanted to close his eyes. Sleep, maybe. Forget about all of this. Everything hurt, but it was fading, fading. He closed his eyes.
And then a hand gripped his throat, jerking him up. He was spun around, his eyes unfocused. He coughed, blood dribbling down his chin.
“Oh,” Smoke whispered in his ear. “Thisis familiar, isn’t it? Yes. We’ve been here before.”
Nick’s vision began to clear. And when he saw what lay before him, his heart sank to his feet.
Pyro Storm, standing in the middle of the cafeteria, fire moving around him in hot waves.
Ice, on the other side of the cafeteria, in a similar position. Only instead of a stranger on the street, he held a girl, a kid from their school. She was crying, her makeup streaking. It took Nick a moment to place her. Megan. Megan Ross, the one in charge of the prom committee who had tried to get Nick to bring Pyro Storm.
“Let them go,” Pyro Storm commanded, though the implied threat was undermined when his voice broke. “Don’t hurt them.”
“We can,” Smoke said. Then, raising her voice, “Don’t move. You stopright there.”
Nick turned his head to see Trey and Miles holding Dad back, his face stricken as he demanded they let him go, let him gorightnow. Mateo stood in front of the largest group of kids, trying to herd them toward the exits. Jazz and Gibby were next to their parents. Martha was holding Bob up, wiping a trickle of blood off his forehead. Rebecca Firestone was still there, still recording, standing near the back of a smaller group of students.
His team.
They did good.
