NICO

"Mommy! Fire! Fire!" wailed a faint, high-pitched voice. Inside the smouldering vehicle, I could see the silhouette of a child flailing against the upside-down backseat.

Feeling a sudden burst of adrenaline, I rushed toward the car, determined to come to the child's rescue. As I approached the wreckage, the cries for help became louder and were beginning to sound constrained as if the child was suffocating. When I got close enough, I could see that the child was a little girl of about three or four years old with auburn curls. Despite her laboured breathing, the little girl screamed in her booster seat, miraculously uninjured. Meanwhile a woman, burnt and bloody, hung limp in the steering wheel. I did not need to look twice to know she was dead.

I tore open the back door and crawled into the car, holding my breath to prevent myself from inhaling the fumes. As quickly as I could, I freed the little girl from her booster seat lifted her out of the scorching backseat. Instantly, the tingling in my head ceased and I knew she was the one. The reincarnation of my sister's spirit.

"Mommy... Fire..." The little girl's voice waned as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. She drooped her curly head against my chest. To my relief, she was visibly breathing.

I glanced back at the dead woman in the driver's seat. She was now fully engulfed in flames. A lost cause.

Cradling the unconscious child in my arms, I yelled at the top of my lungs, "SOMEBODY HELP!"

It was no use. We were on a remote Pennsylvanian road in the middle of nowhere. Now that I had found what I was looking for, I no longer sensed any pull from anywhere. I hadn't the slightest clue how to get back to the train, I had no cellphone so I couldn't call 9-1-1, and I had no idea how to care for a passed-out little girl.

Finally I decided to follow the road in hopes of hitch-hiking a ride to the nearest hospital. Surely people would be willing to help a (to quote a certain someone) "shady-looking teenage hoodlum" carrying an unconscious little girl, right?

After about a quarter-mile, fatigue kicked in. Only now did I realize how much energy I had expended from all the hardcore sprinting and rescuing. Exhausted and lost, I plopped myself down next to an empty intersection, holding the little girl as firmly as I could.

The little girl stirred, her eyes shut. She reminded me of Bianca's old porcelain dolls, rosy-cheeked with immaculate reddish curls.

"Mommy?" she said weakly.

I recalled the woman dangling upside-down listlessly at the steering wheel, devoured by the flames.

"I'm not your mother," I said softly, "I'm here to help you."

The little girl whimpered. "I want my mommy."

I didn't have the guts to tell the girl about her mother. Hell, I didn't think I'd ever have the heart to inform any kid that their parent was currently burning to a crisp. Instead of answering her question, I asked, "What's your name?"

"Izzy," the girl murmured then slipped back into unconsciousness.

A split second later - or maybe it was an hour, I wouldn't know - I caught sight of a car speeding down the hill. I carefully laid Izzy onto the grass and stood up. Waving my arms frantically, I hollered, "Hey! Stop! We need help!"

The car halted right in front of us. Under normal circumstances, I would've taken a few moments to admire the ride. It was a forest-green vintage Mustang, sleek but sturdy enough to face any monster I'd encountered. To my surprise, a girl in a dark blue jacket hurried out of the driver's seat. She looked about eighteen, slim, and had long, straight, brown hair that glowed auburn in the sun. The part of my brain that didn't have its priorities straight wondered why this girl wasn't in school.

"Are you two alright?" she shouted as she jogged towards us.

"I'm alright," I panted, a bit short of breath from yelling. I nodded my head at Izzy. "But she isn't. I just pulled her out of a burning car. She needs to be at a hospital right now."

The young driver nodded. "Come. I can drive you to the nearest hospital." She opened the back door of her Mustang and ushered us in.

While the driver restarted the car, she shot me a bunch of questions.

"Where'd you find her?"

"About a quarter-mile ahead," I replied, "She was in a car accident."

"Crash?" The driver made a U-turn.

I hesitated. "Actually I'm not sure." I visualized the scene of the accident. "The car was flipped upside-down, dented everywhere and was just burning on the middle of the road. If I remember correctly, there weren't any skid marks either."

The driver's pale green eyes scrutinized me at the rearview mirror. "Strange," she remarked.

I covered Izzy's ears. "Her mother was driving," I said quietly.

The driver glanced back at Izzy. Sarcastically, the driver said, "Really? I assumed she was."

Seriously? This lady was making sardonic cracks now?

Ignoring that last comment, I told her, "Her mother's dead."

"Oh." The driver turned her attention back to the road. I was starting to feel like I was hitching a ride with the most emotionless teenage girl in America.

A minute passed before the driver spoke again. "What's your name."

"Nico. Yours?"

The driver hesitated. "Rosemary. So Nico, that's a pretty nasty burn you got."

"What?" I briefly inspected myself for injuries. My clothes were slightly singed but I was wearing black so it was barely noticeable. However, my left hand, which I had used to open the charred back door, was red and blistery. Now that I was aware of my burn, my hand started to sting.

"You should put a gauze on that," Rosemary advised, "We're still pretty far from the hospital but a town's coming up. We can stop by and get you some bandages."

I shook my head. "I have bandages in my backpack. Keep driving."

"You sure?"

"I've had worse. Besides, Izzy needs a hospital as soon as possible."

"Izzy's gonna be fine," Rosemary said curtly.

"She's unconscious."

Rosemary rolled her eyes. "She's asleep. You can tell by her breathing."

Hoping to prove Rosemary wrong, I watched Izzy for a bit. Much to my annoyance, Rosemary was right. Izzy was definitely asleep, her breathing calm and rhythmic.

Glowering at Rosemary's reflection on the rearview mirror, I said, "Still, she probably inhaled a lot of smoke."

Rosemary shrugged. "Doesn't look like she inhaled too much smoke 'cause she looks fine to me. By the way Nico, if you do ever see an unconscious person, it's better to lay them on their side. Just in case they vomit."

Okay, this girl was really beginning to irritate me. "Thanks for the tip," I snapped, "But we should go to the hospital anyway. Just in case you're wrong."

Rosemary smirked. "Well well well... Aren't you sassy. Now, back to the only injury in this car... You should at least run your hand under cold water. That's a second-degree burn, kiddo."

Although I was miffed that Rosemary - who looked barely older than me - had called me "kiddo", I sighed. "Fine."

After about three miles, we reached a town so small, there were no franchise businesses. After a couple of minutes of wandering around this hick town, Rosemary parked her car at a dingy restaurant with a silly-sounding name.

"This place probably has a decent toilet," said Rosemary, "I'll wait here in the car with Izzy. You can go inside, uh, Tweedie's and wash up."

I gently laid Izzy down on the backseat and headed out to the restaurant. The moment I stepped foot inside, a middle-aged waitress with fluffy blonde hair scurried over to greet me.

"Welcome to Tweedie's!" she piped, "Table for one?"

"No thank you," I declined, "I just need to use your restroom."

The waitress simpered, looking rather silly in her heavily made-up face. "Restrooms are for guests only."

I held up my seared left hand. "Lady, I have a second-degree burn."

The waitress pursed her lips. "Hmm... Maybe, son, if you order a water then you'd technically count as a customer..." she suggested.

Ugh. I had no time for this. "Never mind," I told her brusquely, "I'll just let my hand fester."

I stormed out of Tweedie's only to see the Mustang zooming across the parking lot. Confused, I held up my uninjured hand at the car. "Hey Rosemary! Where're you going? Wait up!"

It was painfully apparent that Rosemary heard me. When she caught sight of me, her green eyes widened in shock. She turned back to the steering wheel and sped out of the parking lot.

What the... Gods, how could I be so stupid? No wonder Rosemary insisted on stopping. Obviously, she had been planning to leave me here all along and take Izzy with her! Lucky me - the first driver I encountered in the middle of nowhere just had to be some mental teenage girl.

Even though I was burned out both literally and figuratively, I pushed myself to chase after the green Mustang. Fortunately the streets were empty and I was able to run on the pavement.

"Stop right now or I'm calling the police!"

The Mustang accelerated.

Oh, what the hell. I brushed my thumb against the black skull ring on my right middle finger. In a split second a Stygian iron sword, three feet long and black as night, appeared in my hand. Concentrating on the space ahead of the Mustang, I stabbed my sword into the asphalt. A tremor rippled from the spot I struck the ground and ended right before the Mustang. At that point, the road folded up and blocked the front tires, completely stopping the car.

As I dashed towards the car, Rosemary poked her head out the window and groaned when she saw me coming. The tires spun furiously against the road block but the Mustang didn't move.

Before Rosemary had the chance to turn around, I managed to point my sword at her neck.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demanded.

Rosemary closed her eyes and sighed. "Nico, I can explain- oh my God, is that a sword?!"

For a moment I was distracted. Usually, the Mist tricked mortals into seeing a black baseball bat or a shotgun or an overly ornate costume prop. "Wait, you can see the sword?"

"No, I see an abnormally large butter kni- OF COURSE I CAN SEE THE FUCKING SWORD!"

I didn't have time to mull over the fact that Rosemary could see through the Mist. In a most ungentlemanly way, I swiftly opened the door and seized her out of the driver's seat. With the blade of my sword held at Rosemary's throat, I growled, "Explain."

Rosemary raised her hands in defeat. "Alright, you got me. I was trying to run away with Izzy."

"No shit. Why?" My sword hovered just half an inch away from Rosemary's neck. If the sword made contact, it would automatically begin draining out her life force. At the moment, the psychotic side of me didn't really mind if that happened. "Are you some lunatic or child abductor or something?"

Rosemary took a deep breath. "Izzy's my sister."

A/N:

This story is rated T for swearing. I guess it's a bit too late to mention that...

A special thanks goes to the guest user "vampire". I appreciate your review!

This is my first time writing a fic that doesn't revolve around being humorous. Please tell me your thoughts so far! I'm open to anything - suggestions, criticism, compliments (*wink*), etc... If you're more into funny fics, check out my other stories :)

-Spec