Kitchen fires are vicious things, grease and gas combining to accelerate combustion in violent ways. This one was rapidly spreading upward, smoke already pouring out of a second-floor window.
Two windows to the left, the glass suddenly broke as a chair came flying out, only to be replaced by a panicky face. A young girl looked out, a tiny boy in front of her.
The firefighters started to unhinge the ladder from the back of one of their trucks and I was about to just climb the damned building when I felt him.
He was here… somewhere behind me… somewhere back in the crowd.
The fire suddenly went out—completely out. Roaring like the flames of Hell one moment, then just gone. Waves of heat rose in the air and then they too suddenly disappeared. The thick white smoke began to stream out of the second-floor window in a twisted cord like the body of a python, emerging from the building in a never-ending rope the color of soot.
The entire window frame where the children were standing suddenly ripped itself free from the building and shot off upward like it had been fired from a catapult. Before they could so much as blink, the two tiny children were just floating in midair, descending silently to the ground. I say silently because the entire crowd had gone quiet, firefighters and cops included.
The waitress rushed to the kids just as a paramedic reached them. I turned and looked behind me, back at the edge of the crowd. Most people were watching the building and the kids, but two of the cops holding the barrier line were clearly focused on the slim man and the giant black and tan wolf standing in front of them. The wolf and man, in turn, were both looking at me, one pair of black eyes and one pair of blue. Then they were moving, and the cops wisely didn’t attempt to stop them.
Declan wore a gray sweatshirt with the hood up, loose blue jeans, and flip flops. People noticed Awasos immediately, something about a pony-sized wolf commanding their undivided focus. The nondescript fellow following him drew very little attention—at first. But most New Yorkers seem to be proud that Team God Hammer lives in the Big Apple and this group figured out who he was in seconds.
“You hurt?” he asked, eyes locked on my bloody spot. ‘Sos checked for himself, big black nose pushing the military guy out of the way as he sniffed for damage.
“It’s nothing,” I said. Declan’s eyes studied mine as our bond hummed. He was calm, super calm, deceptively calm. He hugged me, hard and tight.
“Why did you burn down the building and shoot yourself?” he asked, pulling back to look in my eyes. He was also ignoring the police detectives who were approaching us with intent expressions. They had arrived in an unmarked car a few minutes ago and I had seen them inspecting the dead grenade guy while paramedics worked on the wounded cook and the other two shooters.
“Wise ass,” I said.
“What happened?” the first cop asked, stepping in close, sharp eyes taking in every detail.
Military Guy pulled a credential case from his back pocket and held it up to the detective, whose eyebrows rose as he read it.
“This have something to do with you… Agent Calhoun?” the cop asked, his partner looking over his shoulder at the creds.
“Likely. I suspect Miss Reynolds and her associate were just here by happenstance, as they seemed to be in disguises,” the newly identified agent said, looking my way to see how I would respond.
“Just here for the pad thai,” I confirmed.
“And I suppose you just got here?” the second cop asked Declan. Gotta love the cojones of New York cops.
“I was awakened by Omega. He transported ‘Sos and me here.”
“Yeah? Supercomputer woke you up and delivered you across Manhattan? Let me guess, Amazon package delivery?” the first cop asked.
“Omega drone,” Declan said, pointing upward. The round orb of an Obliterator-class drone hovered silently over a building across from the restaurant.
“And then you just put out the fire?” Detective One asked, eyes still locked on the black deadly aircraft that suddenly shot straight up into the clouds, disappearing without a sound.
“Yeah.”
The cops looked at him for a moment or two, struggling manfully to keep their expressions unimpressed.
“And the kids?” the other one asked.
“She was about to start climbing,” he said with a nod my way. “Seemed like a good way to keep everyone on the ground.”
“Yeah?” the second cop said, glancing around at the second floor of the burned building. “Where’d the window go?”
“Up,” Declan said.
Both cops’ brows rose and they shared a glance. “And should we expect to see it come back down anytime soon?” the first asked, politely sarcastic.
Declan shook his head. “It’s gone. Nothing but ash.”
They both just looked at him, as did Agent Calhoun. My witch was quiet for a moment, then he shrugged. “It made a handy target for dumping some of that heat energy,” he said, raising his right hand. Smoke rose from his fingertips, which glowed an inhuman red. Gradually the color faded back to pink and the smoke dissipated.
Even New Yorkers have limits. In the face of the unbelievable but undeniable, they had no verbal response. Instead, both cops nodded and turned to the agent. “Perhaps you could step over this way and help us understand why the DoD was involved with some kind of organized hit, Agent Calhoun?” Detective One asked.
Calhoun looked back at me and Kristin, nodded at Declan, and finally glanced at ‘Sos, who was sitting almost on my right foot in guard position. Then he stepped over to the cops, all three angling their bodies to keep us in sight.
“You alright, Kristin?” I asked.
“Me? I’m fine. I didn’t do anything. It was like you just exploded and then
