Phoenix

Bailed up

Amerie's footsteps were an echo of hers, slowing when she slowed, quickening when she sped up. It was as though the pixie was so afraid of losing her, she felt the need to trap the retreat of Ash's shadow underfoot.

As they approached Junction Bridge, Ash knew something was wrong—felt it before seeing it, like a desert ant senses a storm. She skidded to a halt and pressed herself against the shadow of a high-rise. Amerie only just managed to stop and do the same without crashing into her from behind. It made no difference. They'd already been seen. The LED footpath made sure of that.

Ahead, three cars spanned the width of Junction bridge, reducing the four-laned highway to three. They rolled forwards, neutral quiet, no headlights. Even at a distance, Ash could see they weren't normal cars. Their bonnets were dust-free, buffed and waxed, windows tinted almost black. They were Establishment issue, bullet proof, fitted with custom exhaust mufflers for added stealth.

Ash turned back in the direction they'd come, only to be stopped by Amerie's vice-like grip. The fire-twirler's arms were stronger than they looked and her fingers dug into Ash's scabs.

"Wait," Amerie said in a steady voice. "I have an idea."

Ash considered forcing her way out of the hold using one of the many dirty techniques she'd learnt at the orphanage, then thought again. She didn't trust Amerie for a second, but any idea was better than trying to outrun three Establishment vehicles. "This better be good," she muttered.

They waited for the cars to slow on the curb, close enough to endure a noseful of leather interiors as the doors swung up and over the sleek bodies like wings folding after flight. Ash had never seen cars so fancy and she couldn't help but wonder how many hours of work it would take to afford just the gold plaque of a bird on the front and back of each vehicle. More hours than she had in a lifetime, she supposed.

First to step out were the two policemen from the Palace, followed by the Director and Lydia. Ash noticed a small black hole in the Director's maroon tie where the coal had made its mark. Lydia scowled and pinched rivets in her eel gown.

The Madame stepped out next, a disco ball of jewels and sequins. She looked directly at Amerie and shook her head. Her face was a fiery red, no longer resembling a plump potato, but a nuke.

Amerie held up Ash's arm. "I caught her, dad. I chased her down for you."

This made Ash choke on her own spit. Not only for the bombshell that Madame was Amerie's dad, but because in the space of a few seconds, Amerie had saved herself and thrown her to the crows. She shouldn't have been so surprised. She should've known better than to accept help from a pixie.

A bitter taste swelled in her mouth and she added Amerie to the list of people she'd like to burn, right under the unremarkable man who'd groped her in the Palace.

The policeman stepped forward with a set of handcuffs. "You've done your city a service, young girl," he said, addressing Amerie. Then, turning to the Director, "What would you have me do, Sir?"

"Deliver her to Establishment headquarters."

"Not the state jail?" The policeman raised his eyebrows.

"I would like to conduct further questioning... myself."

The policemen looked apprehensive, but nevertheless, nodded. "As you wish."

Lydia advanced. "I don't like it. She committed an act of treachery to the state. We shouldn't give her access to headquarters. Let the police apprehend her in the usual manner."

The Director turned to Ash. His eyes seemed even darker now, the whites of them lit by the changing colours of the footpath. "I think you'll find it is in our best interests to find out all we can about this... girl." He continued. "From where I was sitting, it looked as though she could be one of them."

Lydia nodded. "A rebel? Of course she is. That's exactly what I was trying to tell you before."

"Not a rebel." His right hand moved to finger the black hole in his tie. "One of them."

Lydia was staring at Ash now, eyes wide and seeing. "Impossible."

In the silence that followed, Ash went cold, though her skin felt hot to touch. Then, her whole body started dripping with a fever sweat. Something about the way the Director was looking at her, confirmed what she'd suspected all along—that she'd made Amerie's fiery chains go out, that she'd conjured the flames that had devoured the boy.

In that moment, she had visions of being locked away in a heat-proof cell like a lab rat, prodded and poked with needles and electrodes, subjected to more electric shock treatment. Just the thought of the blinding white light and searing pain was enough to set her quaking. She wouldn't let that happen again.

The Director must've seen the change in her eyes, the slight shift in her weight as she prepared for a fight.

"Seize her," he said, voice losing all its musical charm.

Ash saw it happen in slow motion. The policemen with their handcuffs and the glint of their weapons still buckled to their belts. She had time. Using Amerie's hold on her wrist, she pulled the pixie off-balance, positioning her in front like a shield and twisting her arm behind her back so she couldn't move. Amerie cried out as the joints in her elbow strained under the pressure.

"Come at me and she's dead," Ash warned, taking a step back.

The policemen fumbled for their guns while the Madame shouted, "Don't shoot. That's my daughter."

Ash didn't wait to see what would happen next. In one swift movement, she pushed Amerie into the advancing policemen and stepped back, sweeping her arm up and over so that a wall of flames rose from pavement, curling and twisting into the air, shielding her from view. She didn't think, didn't wait to see how long the flames would sustain themselves, didn't even try to digest the enormity of what she'd done. Just turned and ran, faster than she'd ever run before, totally unaware of where she was going.

For a moment, there was no pursuit, the fire having shocked everyone inert. But soon, there was the sound of gunfire. Bullets plucked the pavement around her feet, one hitting so close that she felt concrete chips lodge in the skin around her ankles. But it wasn't enough to stop her from running.

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