Flash Fiction No. 59

#flashfiction

Picking Up The Pieces

She heard his screams from the other side of the mirror, but she couldn’t go back. Going back would rip her to shreds. The pieces were simply too small to pass through.

There was no way to save him from there. Without another mirror nearby or a pool of water, her elemental powers trapped her in the field. Fevered eyes stared back into the glass. A kaleidoscope picture flashed and died as the power of the other mirror finally broke into nothingness.

He had to make it.

They’d never meant to harm anyone with their powers. They had only ever tried to live a normal life. But perhaps people were right. Perhaps fire and water were never meant to be together.

His hand had slipped from hers as she’d passed into the mirror, locking him out of the safe escape. She gripped the frame and hoped an answer would surface somewhere. The monsters chasing them would have him, pulling him apart for his powers.

If she squeezed back through the glass she’d bleed to death on the other side…

The mirrored pieces melted in his too hot hands. He could meld the splinters together so she could find him, but he didn’t have enough time. Footsteps thundered and voices called along the alleyway, huge shadows spidering* along the walls.

It was too late. He would have to run and find her some other way.

Trainers skipped in the too shallow puddles, feet scudding along the blackened bitumen as he made for the stairs of a nearby fire escape. They clanged and clanked beneath his feet. He twisted, glancing behind him for the supernatural hunters.

To them, he and Shayla were just prey, nothing more. It made his blood boil. They’d laid low for so long, waiting it out, hoping that they would pass by unnoticed, but that bitch had handed him over.

She knew what she was doing. She’d told them everything she knew, bitterness consuming her just because he’d turned her down. What was it with women like that? Why did they have to destroy everything?

He breathed heavy, sinking into the gloom of a doorway. His hands readied at his sides in case he needed to scorch or flame his enemies. They were better trackers than the usual firms employed, but temperamental. Somebody was obviously willing to gamble to get hold of elementals.

After all, what sane being would employ werewolves?

The only step worse was vampires. The blood suckers were better trackers by far, but you couldn’t bargain with a vampire. They did what they liked – always had and always would.

A running figure stopped short, a blur in his eye line. It sniffed the air and found the acrid smoke scent that Bailey carried around. It was the curse of being a fire elemental. He clenched his hands in the dark, feeling his fingertips burn like embers.

Night vision eyes snapped on to him with a feral grin. Bailey braced himself and hoped he’d make it through to find Shayla in the nearest reflection.

*I realise spidering isn’t an actual word but it sounded so delicious I just had to use it. Sorry to those purists out there!

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Continued in Cinders…

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