Crossfire Novels & Stories

The marsh beyond the hollow walls stirred as if holding its breath. She felt everything. Rowan’s fury. Lucien’s hunger. Her own rising storm. She lifted her hands—fire and frost blazing in perfect symmetry. The marsh answered. Roots erupted through the floor in long, twisting spears. Fire burst from her palms in a column of gold, but frost intertwined with it—blue-white veins snapping through the flames like ice lightning. Wolves howled as frost sealed their paws to the stone, while the fire seared the air around them.

She smiled, pressed the final detonator. A white flash erased the barrier. The shockwave buckled asphalt, shattered concrete into shrapnel. The aberrations vaporized. The blast ripped upward, tearing the roof off the main building and hurling a fireball hundreds of feet into the sky. The three blasts merged into a perfect triangle of fire, scorching the map clean of Blood Fang. The burning triangle glowed against the night. Joanna pulled Briggs and RJ close on the snowy edge to watch. With no water to fight it, the firestorm would consume the city within days.

A Level 6 Apache helicopter hovered low, dangling a hunk of raw flesh, while countless zombies clambered over one another to pile into a mountain beneath it. Torrents of Universal Fuel poured down like a waterfall. Dennis pressed the launch button himself. A surface-to-surface missile screamed through the air. BOOM—!!! A second pillar of fire rose into the sky over the North District, answering the one in the East District from a distance — like two enormous candles seeing off this city of the dead. Watching the roaring flames, Dennis's grin grew wider, tinged now with something close to mania. "Burn. The bigger the better.

he promised. Across the city, sirens wailed. Thick black smoke curled into the sky, visible from miles away. The Wrenford Tower, the very symbol of the family’s empire, was now engulfed in flames. Xavier’s car cut through traffic at full speed. Through the window, his eyes locked on the glow of the fire drawing closer. His jaw tightened. Whoever was behind this would regret it for the rest of their life.

she assures me. Her words send her brother on a rant, almost as if she's triggered him: "They said they wanted a lit party! I give them a lit yoat and suddenly I'm not allowed in their club anymore?! And just because the yoat was in flames! I mean, people, calm down! Why you freaking out about a little bit of fire?! If you can't handle the heat, get out of the..." I tune him out. Instead, I place on my shades and close my eyes, pretending to listen to him while nodding here and there as if I care. All the while, my head is stuck on AJ. She must never meet Troy. She must never ever meet Troy.

My whole body still vibrates, carrying within it the echo of every touch, every bite, every word exchanged in fury. The game has changed again. It's no longer a question of truth to discover or possession to assert. It has become a total war, without mercy. And we have both just crossed, in the steam and the fury, a point of no return. The next step is no longer to seduce or to understand, but to survive the fire we have ignited.

I quiver and squirm. I kick him as hard as I can between the legs, and he falls backward onto the ground holding his crotch. He yells, and I run off again. I don’t get very far before I fall again, near a river, and a cliff-edge, with the men right behind me, their swords ready to kill. Instinctively, I throw out my hands, and a gust of wind knocks the men over. I imagine fire and fill a power surge through my body. My palms light up with a ball of flame hovering in each palm. I throw the fireballs at the men, and flames engulf them both. They jump into the river to extinguish themselves. The rest of their companions have reached us, and they watch on as their comrades heal their burns in th

This was senseless, his screams were long, and my curiosity overpowered my fear when I looked out the frosted window. My fingertips burned, my head pulsed, and I was so ashamed because I was so hungry, terribly hungry. My mouth salivated when I saw the driver pulled apart. Two masked men in large, white fur coats with mud on them, rubbed along their bodies to camouflage into the forest tore his ligaments apart.

I can't explain the trust I have for these men whose lifestyle I have been taught to fear my entire life. "We always have a cigarette after any battle," Fletcher explains from the back seat, "helps with the adrenaline rush we still feel and well there is a poetic symmetry to it, don't ya think?" Shocking us all, even Xander, who glances in the review mirror to make sure he heard right, Charity comments from the backseat. "Yeah, there is." "Well, fireball let me bring you to the darkside," Fletcher flirts, and I can practically hear the flirting in his voice, as he offers her one.

He brought his gun up and squeezed off a couple of wild shots. Cursing the chair Vlad rolled off of Petrov and tried diving away. He felt fire along his side as one of the bullets grazed his flesh. He continued to roll until he was standing in a crouch. There was no furniture in the room, nowhere to hide. He would be an easy target for Petrov's men.