[I'm outside your house, little Ren. Hurry up. ❤]
Clare's text lights up my screen—wait, did she really use a heart emoji? My stomach flips, but not in a good way. That little ❤ feels like a bomb exploding in my brain. It's my first patrol without Brianne, and Clare is… well, Clare. Calling her "outgoing" would be an understatement.
I rush down the stairs, nearly tripping over myself, and there she is—Clare, lounging in her fiery red sports car like a model on a magazine cover. She waves me over, pointing at the passenger seat—Brianne's usual spot.
«First patrol with little Ren! I'm so excited!» Clare beams as I slide into the seat, her voice electric with energy. Before I can reply, she leans over and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. Just a kiss. Totally normal.
«Y-yeah, me too,» I mumble, my voice betraying the storm in my head. Clare's smile is warm—maybe too warm. But her earlier words stick in my mind like an itch I can't scratch.
«Tonight, we're following a tip from Gin—something big is going down. I'll show you some real action!»
Real action? Wonderful. Should I be scared now or later, when it's too late?
My "patrols" have been glorified stakeouts, and I've never been in a real fight. What if I mess up? Or worse—get hurt?
And Gin? The loudmouthed schoolyard kingpin? What could he possibly know?
This screams "bad idea," but Clare's grin is so contagious I can't argue. I just hope I survive the night without embarrassing myself—or worse, dying.
I share my doubts, and Clare smirks like I've asked if water is wet.
At school, Gin LeBlanche is known as a delinquent—but that's just the surface. His crystal shot him to the top. He's basically the city's crime lord now, controlling everything.
I blink. Crime lord? Gin? The same guy who tried charging me "protection fees" for using the library?
Clare glances at me, her eyes alight with excitement and caution. «Gin heard about a meeting with a criminal group called the Black Jackets.»
«Black Jackets?» I ask, confused. «Brianne's never mentioned them.»
«Of course not,» Clare says, her smile fading. «Because of them, Brianne...» She stops abruptly.
«Brianne what?» I ask, curiosity gnawing at me.
She shakes her head, her smirk forced. «Forget it. Focus on the mission.»
I nod, though my curiosity burns like a lit fuse. Clare's face hardens as she takes a deep breath.
«The Black Jackets know about Crystalbringers—and they're hunting us.»
My stomach sinks. Fantastic—criminals hunting people like me. It's my first week as a Crystalbringer, and I already have a target on my back.
Clare glances at me, her eyes gleaming mischievously as she catches my nervous fidgeting. «Aw, is little Ren scared?»
«Who wouldn't be?» I start, but stop mid-sentence. Clare's hand lands on my thigh, warm even through my pants.
«Need me to help you relax?» she teases, her voice dripping with charm.
I almost jump as her fingers trail down my leg deliberately. My brain freezes, and I'm sure my face is tomato-red.
«N-N-No! That's not—uh, not necessary, thanks!» I stammer, waving my hands like swatting invisible bugs.
Clare sighs theatrically, pulling her hand back with a pout. «First time a boy rejected me. I must be getting old and losing my charm.»
The industrial area—our target—should be thirty minutes away, but Clare treats speed limits as suggestions. We arrive in under twenty. The factory looms ahead, massive and ghostly under faint streetlight glow.
It's larger than our high school, surrounded by an iron fence stretching endlessly. Clare parks her blazing red car far off the road, hidden from sight.
We move on foot, staying in the shadows like wannabe ninjas. «Alright, Ren, make an entry point,» Clare says casually, as if asking me to hold the door.
«An entry point?» I repeat, confused. «How am I supposed to do that?»
«Bend the bars,» she replies, as if it's the simplest thing ever.
I look at the fence—iron bars at least five centimeters thick. «Bend those? Seriously? Do I look like the Hulk?»
Clare folds her arms, raising an eyebrow. «Don't tell me you can't.»
«Why would I be able to do that?!»
Clare sighs, exasperated by my lack of superhuman strength. «You're a Blood Crystalbringer! This should be easy for you!»
If she says so… I grip the bars and pull with all my strength. The metal creaks, and after what feels like forever, I widen the gap by two centimeters. Clare looks unimpressed.
She sighs, shaking her head. «Step aside—I'll do it.» Clare steps forward, her face a mix of annoyance and focus. She points, and a thin jet of flames bursts out like a blowtorch.
In minutes, she melts three thick bars into smoldering stumps. I stare, amazed. Is this the Fire Crystal's power?!
Clare flips her hair. «Let's hope nobody saw the light show,» she mutters.
We step into the vast factory, swallowed by darkness. My eyes adjust quickly—Clare's, less so.
«I could use a flame, but we'd stand out too much,» Clare mutters, annoyed.
«You can see in the dark, right?»
«Of course,» I reply proudly.
Then—wham. Clare grabs my side, her hand sliding to my shoulder and gripping my arm. «Lead the way,» she says, soft but firm.
This place is a labyrinth—rooms, endless corridors, stairs leading everywhere.
We must be on the third floor—there's nowhere else to go.
Where are the Black Jackets? Just as I'm about to lose it, I see it—a faint light at the corridor's end.
The light glows behind a door with a small glass window. My heart pounds, fear surging through me. No matter how I try, my body won't stop trembling.
Clare notices, takes my hand, and gives it a comforting squeeze. «Don't worry, little Ren. I promised Bry I'd bring you back safe. If anything happened to you, she'd never forgive me—and she's terrifying when mad.»
Her soft words calm me a little. «Just follow my lead, and we'll be fine,» she says, winking.
I nod, swallowing the unease bubbling in my stomach.
We move forward, steps shallow and silent, as if the floor might betray us. Reaching the door, we peer through its small glass window. Beyond is a massive room—the largest we've seen so far.
It seems to have been a warehouse, now entirely empty.
In the center, six men stand around a small table. Five wear sharp black suits—definitely Black Jackets—and one has a white lab coat.
On the table is a black briefcase. Five meters separate us. Just five.
«Gin wanted me to investigate this,» Clare whispers softly. «He says it's big—something even most Black Jackets don't know. Stay quiet, little Ren.»
I nod silently, my heart pounding like a drum.
«Enough, Professor Brown. Show us how it works,» one Black Jacket says, impatience clear in his voice.
Professor Brown, visibly shaken, opens the briefcase, revealing a strange electronic device—like an oversized square smartphone.
A Black Jacket grabs it from the professor, inspecting it like a treasure.
«How do you turn it on?»
The professor points to a tiny button. The man presses it, and the screen lights up, emitting frantic beeping.
The men exchange confused looks.
«You said it works perfectly. Are you sure?» one asks, doubt lacing his voice.
«Y-Yes,» Professor Brown stammers.
«Good.» They draw pistols, aiming at our door.
Then, they open fire.
Shit! I grab Clare and dive to the floor, landing on top of her. The gunfire is deafening, the door shaking violently under the assault.
«How did they find us?!» I shout, panic in my voice.
«They started shooting as soon as they turned on that device,» Clare replies. «It must be… a Crystalbringer detector!»
The gunfire stops, and I feel a sharp, burning pain in my thigh. Damn it, I've been hit! Blood drips from the wound onto Clare, still lying beneath me.
Normally, this would mortify me—Clare's in a revealing dress, paired with leggings that highlight her curves. Lying on top of her, I feel every curve pressed against me. But neither of us cares right now. Bigger problems await.
The men in suits keep their guns trained on us, ready to fire at any noise. The radar must show we're alive, which explains why they haven't shot again.
Clare and I silently crawl away from the bullet-riddled door, slipping around the nearest corner. Even without the radar, the blood trail I'm leaving behind will eventually lead them straight to us.
«Little Ren, leave this to me—I'll take care of them,» Clare whispers.
«No way! I can't let you face all of them alone!» I argue.
«Take off your pants,» she commands, her tone dead serious—oddly so for such a request.
«Why are you asking me that?» I ask, already frazzled.
«You idiot! I need to check your wound!»
With Clare, misunderstandings are too easy! I obey. A deep bullet hole marks my thigh, blood steadily pouring out.
«Just as I thought,» she mutters, shaking her head. «A Blood Crystalbringer should heal this instantly. Why are you so weak?»
Her words cut deeper than the bullet. Weak? Me?
The door swings open, and five armed men march down the corridor, guns ready.
The air grows hotter. Flames swirl around Clare's hand, condensing into a brilliant sphere of fire.
«Watch closely, little Ren. Witness the power of the Flame Princess!» Clare announces proudly.
Flame Princess? Really? Does she need a superhero name?
The fire she summons blazes, lighting the factory like a fiery beacon.
«Shit, they're countering! Retreat to the warehouse!» one man shouts as the bright flames expose our position.
«Trying to kill me was a mistake—you'll pay dearly,» Clare says, her voice chillingly firm.
The fireball moves as if alive, rounding the corner and hurtling toward the men. A deafening explosion follows, the flames so intense they feel like they're scorching my skin.
I peer cautiously and see the Black Jackets and Professor Brown—burned and bleeding. A wave of nausea hits me.
Clare stands tall, flames dancing around her like a goddess of destruction.
«That's how you handle scum,» she says, her voice icy and firm.
I stand frozen, trembling, wondering what kind of nightmare I've just stepped into.