Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I am not Richelle Mead, and thus own nothing but the plot. The characters are all her creation :/
"So," Christian ventured after hours of silence. We hadn't stopped walking and my legs burned beyond belief. "That was a good bonding moment back there, right?"
I scoffed. "Oh, please, that was not a bonding moment. I still hate you."
He let out a relieved sigh. "Phew, I was getting worried there. I mean, what kind of world would I be living in if Rosemarie Hathaway actually liked me?" He said, a little bitterly.
A dying world. That was our world now. Meteor Matilda was on track to kill us all in a matter of days. Nine, according to the countdown I'd heard this morning. It was a strange thought, that. Knowing the exact time of your death, and everyone else's. Knowing you couldn't change it. Morbid. But also liberating in a way. Nothing much mattered anymore, to anyone. The world was a free and chaotic place. I tried not to dwell on anything too much. Lissa. Focus on Lissa. She needed me. Her family, was, in a word, unbearable. And to be quite truthful, I didn't like the idea of dying alone.
I didn't answer Christian, just kept trudging along. We hadn't passed anything exciting on our way so far, and we'd forgotten to pack anything in our rush this morning, so I was ravenous. My stomach complained with a loud grumble.
"What you got in there? A grizzly?" Christian eyed my stomach with mock fear.
"Har-har. There's a new one. Your sense of humour never ceases to stun me, Ozera."
He snorted in response, but didn't say anything. One point Rose. I smiled a self-satisfied smile.
"Hallelujah!" Christian randomly wooped, making me jump. He ran over to the side of the road like the maniac I was sure he was.
"What? Off your meds, Ozera? Need a top-up?" I teased. I walked over to where he was standing anyway.
"Do you see this?" he exclaimed, ignoring my remarks.
"I see a metal pole," I clarified, confused.
"We're three miles out of town, Rose!" He shouted.
I looked down again and saw that on top of the metal pole which had long since been knocked to the ground, was a sign. Three Miles to Port Newton. Suddenly I had some of my lacking enthusiasm back. Food!
"Good eye, Ozera," I congratulated him.
He smirked. "What would you do without me?"
"Live a long and happy life," I said simply. We both winced slightly, but decided to avoid the elephant in the room.
We walked on for what seemed like hours in silence. That, I hated to admit, was one good thing about Christian—perhaps his only redeemable feature—he had no compulsion to fill silence with empty chatter.
"Do you smell that?" he asked suddenly, pausing to sniff the air like a hound dog. "Smells like fire."
I rolled my eyes, remembering the time he'd set a classmate on fire. Of course it was totally an accident. Cough. He'd been suspended for three weeks. "You're going crazy, Ozera," I chided. "Your pyromaniac ways are getting the best of you."
But then I did smell it. Thick, heavy smoke polluting the fresh air. Damn him, he'd been right. I frowned. And then I heard it. The screams.
"Come on!" I urged, grabbing his jacket and breaking into a run toward town. There was something going on. As we edged closer I could hear more clearly.
"Burn her!"
"She brought the end of the world!"
"Witch!"
It sounded like something from the 17th century. I frowned in confusion. A game?
The cause of chaos finally came into view. There, in the middle of the town square was a blonde girl, on her knees, tied to a wooden pole. Tied to a stake. Behind her a house crumpled under vicious flames.
I left Christian behind and pushed my way through the mob, who were still yelling erratically. Were they crazy? Had we gone back in time to medieval days? Fury boiled inside me as the girl looked up at me with innocent blue eyes. She was frightened, very frightened. And not a girl. Perhaps my age or older. On her cheek was a giant lily tattoo, etched in varying shades of gold.
"What are you doing?" I shouted, but no one answered. I shoved my way to stand in front of the stake and face the crowd. "What are you doing? What did she do?" I yelled in desperation.
"Witch!" One man yelled back.
"Her evil bought on Matilda!" Another answered.
"Are you crazy?" I screamed in anger. "Let her go!"
"Gah!" A man came forward. "We don't have time for this, get out of my way girl."
I didn't miss the can of kerosene he held in his hand, or the frightened whimpers the girl was letting loose. I planted my feet. I crossed my arms. I shifted slightly into a defensive position. "No," I answered simply.
The man went to shove me but I caught his arm, twisted it behind him, and landed a solid kick to his back before he could so much as think. Hours of training had come in handy. He landed face first with a satisfying crack.
There was dead silence for a second. Just a second mind you, before they all set on me like a pack of wolves. Unlike in movies, they didn't wait their turn, to make it easier for the heroine. They surrounded me, circling, anticipating.
For a split second I was nervous. But then I understood. This is what I did. I could do this. I just needed to think clearly. My heartbeat returned to its usual rhythm and I forgot everything except my attackers.
Five men surrounded me, while others watched on eagerly. Focus. One went for a direct hit, and I dodged it easily, managing to land an uppercut underneath his jaw before another kicked me in the back, forcing me to my knees. Breathe. I swiped my leg out low, knocking two men to the ground before someone took a low blow, and punched me square in the face. I reeled back, and onto my feet, absently noting blood was trickling from somewhere. Patterns. Find their patterns. Two men were still down, and I decided to take as many out as possible first. I knocked them both out in seconds. But then they were on to me again. A kick in the stomach. One in the chest. An arm around my neck, squeezing. And the smell of kerosene, somehow closer than before. Don't panic. Never panic. But more men had joined the fight. It was a lost cause.
I forced myself to go limp, sickening as it was. The man who had me dropped me instantly and I bounded, slightly unsteadily to my feet, knocking him in the jaw. He reeled backward, glaring and rubbing his chin.
Someone knocked me to the ground. A kick in the stomach. Somewhere else, too. I was losing feeling. I was losing.
"Someone help her!" A voice shouted. Male. Christian. Of course he didn't actually think to help me himself.
I struggled to my feet but was knocked down again. On your feet. I pushed up again and this time someone grabbed my elbow, but not to shove me down. To help me up. I noticed in the periphery the girl was still safe. Everyone was too enraptured with the fight to think about her now. Animals. Where was the kerosene smell coming from?
Instinctively I stood back-to-back with the person who had helped me up. Three men were in front of me. But they looked slightly wary. I feigned to the right, and then darted to the left, taking him down with a clean blow to the temple. My knuckles throbbed uncomfortably.
The other two backed up slightly, apparently waiting for back-up. I rushed forward and kicked one in the balls, mostly because I'd always wanted to kick a man there and never had the chance. He keeled over and the other man laid a blow into my side, which I nearly dodged. I knocked him once, twice, and then finished him with a kick in the stomach.
I waited for the onslaught. Nothing came. People stared at me, wide-eyed, but none stepped forward. I let myself relax for a second.
"Get her!" A voice commanded me, and suddenly I remembered the girl.
I rushed over to the stake just as someone poured a can of kerosene over her head. Her piercing scream filled the air. I shoved the man away from her, and he didn't attempt to attack, just backed away quickly.
I made quick work of the knots tying her to the stake and helped her to her feet. She sagged onto me. How long had they had her tied up? "Are you okay?" I questioned.
She simply nodded and the smell of kerosene stifled anything else I'd intended to say to her. I led her away from the now quiet and half-dead mob, strewn all over the clearing, into an alley. I set her on the ground and she collapsed.
"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked again.
She nodded just as Christian came running up. "Rose, I-" He started.
I glared at him. "Save it, Ozera," I said sourly. I turned back to the girl and found my eyes kept drifting to her cheek. "Freaky tattoo," I complimented her. "So what, are you a witch or what?"
She panted and sniffled, wiping her nose with a finger daintily. "No, of course not. My name's Sydney," She swiped her kerosene soaked hair out of her eyes. "I'm an Alchemist."
AN: Hi again guys (: I'm so glad you're back ;) I was really excited with my review last chapter! So thanks guys (: Review! It's not that hard ;-) So what do you think? Is Rose kick-ass or what? And are we forgetting something? Oh yes, who was mystery man who helped her up? Christian? Ten points for the person who guesses it! te-he.
But I am seriously lacking in motivation. Perhaps if people reviewed, I would not be! ;)
Have a fantabulous day people :D