Chapter 13: Ice and Fire
The scream came from the alley behind the Torch office.
I slammed the brakes. The borrowed truck fishtailed on wet pavement, tires screeching. I was out of the cab before it stopped moving, running toward the sound with everything I had.
Chloe.
The alley was dark, lit only by the orange glow of a streetlight at the far end. I saw them immediately—Chloe pressed against the brick wall, Sean Kelvin's hand wrapped around her wrist. Frost spread up her arm like living crystal, and she was screaming, thrashing, trying to pull free.
"LET HER GO!"
Sean's head turned. Those empty eyes found me. His lips curved in something that might have been a smile.
"More warmth. Good."
He released Chloe—she collapsed against the wall, cradling her frozen arm—and came for me instead.
[THREAT ENGAGED. CRYOKINETIC OUTPUT: EXTREME. RECOMMEND: MAINTAIN DISTANCE.]
No chance.
I met his charge head-on.
The impact was like hitting a wall made of ice and hate. Cold radiated from Sean in waves, cutting through my clothes, my skin, straight into my bones. My hands closed on his shoulders and I heaved, throwing him back with everything the System could give me.
Sean flew ten feet, crashed against a dumpster, and was up again in seconds.
"You're warm," he said. "Burning warm. I want it."
He moved faster than before. His fist caught my jaw—not the punch itself, but the cold that followed it. My face went numb. I swung back, connected with his ribs, felt something crack.
It didn't slow him down.
We traded blows in the narrow alley. Every hit I landed shattered frost. Every hit he landed stole more of my heat. The System screamed warnings I barely registered.
[CORE TEMPERATURE: DECLINING. METABOLIC COMPENSATION: ACTIVE.]
My body was fighting back—I could feel it, that internal furnace I'd discovered at the lake roaring to life. But Sean was draining faster than I could generate.
Need to end this. Now.
I grabbed Sean by the throat and threw him. Not a controlled toss—a desperate heave that sent him through the storefront window of an empty shop across the street. Glass exploded. Alarms triggered.
"Cole!" Chloe's voice, shaky but alive. "Cole, we have to go!"
She was right. Sean was already moving in the wreckage, already pulling himself up. I couldn't beat him here. Not like this.
I grabbed Chloe—carefully, mindful of her frozen arm—and ran.
Not human speed. The System's enhanced output, burning through energy I couldn't afford to lose. Buildings blurred. Streetlights became streaks of orange. Chloe gasped against my chest, clinging with her good arm.
The diner. People. Witnesses. He won't attack in public.
The Smallville Diner was two blocks away. I burst through the doors, set Chloe in a booth, and collapsed onto the seat across from her.
The other customers stared. A waitress dropped a coffee pot. Somewhere behind us, sirens began to wail.
"What—" Chloe's teeth were chattering. "What the hell was that?"
I couldn't answer. My hands were shaking too badly, blue-white at the fingertips. Frost clung to my jacket, my hair, my eyebrows. Every breath felt like inhaling razor blades.
[CORE TEMPERATURE: CRITICAL. IMMEDIATE WARMING REQUIRED.]
"Sir? Miss?" The waitress approached cautiously. "Are you... are you okay?"
"Hot chocolate," I managed. "Two. Please."
She fled toward the kitchen.
Chloe was staring at me. Her arm was blistered, angry red beneath the melting frost, but she wasn't looking at her injury. She was looking at me.
"You're not human," she said quietly.
"I'm human." The words came out slurred. "Just... more."
"You threw that thing through a window. You ran here faster than a car. You—" She stopped. Swallowed. "You're on the Wall of Weird."
The hot chocolate arrived. I wrapped my hands around the mug, let the heat seep into my frozen fingers. Chloe did the same, though her eyes never left my face.
"Probably," I admitted. "But I'm not the one trying to hurt people."
She considered this. The color was returning to her cheeks. Behind us, the diner filled with the normal sounds of late-night customers, oblivious to the impossibility that had just stumbled through their doors.
"That thing—Sean Kelvin, right? From school?" Chloe's journalist brain was already working. "He went into the lake. Came out... wrong."
"Meteor-affected. Like me. But worse."
"And you... you saved me." Her voice cracked slightly. "You ran into that fight knowing what he could do, and you saved me."
I took a sip of hot chocolate. It was too sweet and slightly burned, and it was the best thing I'd ever tasted.
"You would have done the same."
"No." Chloe laughed—a shaky, disbelieving sound. "I would have called Clark and hidden behind a dumpster. That's the sane response." She reached across the table with her good hand, touched my wrist. "Cole. What are you?"
The question hung between us.
I thought about lying. About deflecting, about making excuses, about protecting the secret I'd held since arriving in this world. But Chloe Sullivan had almost died tonight because of that world. She deserved something.
"Tell me everything," she said.
I met her eyes.
"Some of it."
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