Free Burning Darkness by Jaime Rush

cared about. I could smell your anger and grief, like the salt of the ocean. Was having sex with him some kind of punishment?”
    Her mouth tightened, wanting to set him straight. Just what he wanted.
    “Tsk tsk, Aruda. Your skills won’t work on me.”
    It didn’t seem like the injury Eric had inflicted was slowing Westerfield down. He walked around, humming a song, moving things across the floor, perhaps, as he looked for them. Finally he stopped, and she sensed him below. She dared to look down, and between the board and the tank saw him looking up. He had that creepy smile on his face, as though he knew he would win but was enjoying the game.
    He raised a gun and aimed it at them.
    She shoved Eric forward, throwing herself against him. A bullet splintered the wood where she’d been standing.
    Eric lost his balance and jumped to the ground. When Westerfield aimed at her, Eric rushed him. The bullet went wild, hitting the tank.
    “Run!” Eric yelled at her.
    The two men wrestled, Eric with a grip on the gun, too. He shoved Westerfield against one of the columns. It didn’t seem to faze him. Fonda prepared to jump down, but not to run away.
    Eric rammed his knee into Westerfield’s stomach with the same result. Except the column buckled, tilting the platform she was on. She fell, grabbing onto the edge and swinging her body down. Using the momentum, she aimed her legs at Westerfield, sending him flying several feet to a pile of boards. She landed hard on her back, banging her head and seeing stars, then Eric’s face as he leaned over her and helped her up.
    The tank and platform it was on crashed to the ground behind them. Fonda and Eric moved to the side as boards skittered across the concrete floor. They spun to face Westerfield, who was still sitting. Though his shirt was cut and had dried blood on it, she saw no sign of the wound he’d recently sustained. He held out his hand, looking at Fonda. Her body lifted and she flew backward. She hit the ground with a thud and rolled, her insides tumbling.
    Don’t throw up. Get up.
    She lifted her head, which was aching without supernatural help. Eric had his hands around the man’s neck. With a gasp of pain, Eric dropped to his knees. Westerfield was clenching his hand into a fist aimed at Eric’s stomach. She started running toward them, but he threw out his other hand and sent her flying again.
    Eric’s face was red and he was writhing on the ground, his hands clutching his abdomen. “Stop!” she screamed, trying to get to her feet again.
    Stop time.
    But how?
    Eric’s groans grew more raw. The veins in his neck stood out, and his face deepened to a sick shade of purple.
    Focus. Time stops. Time stops. Freeze!
    She put all of her energy into freezing time, so much that she was gasping for breath and squeezing her eyes shut. Suddenly everything went quiet. No more groans. She opened her eyes. Both men were frozen. They broke out of the spell a second later, though now Westerfield was staring in surprise.
    Again, she told herself, and focused, her whole body tightening with the effort. The groans stopped, and she opened her eyes. Even the trees weren’t moving in the breeze. A bird was suspended in the sky. She got up and hobbled over to Eric, frozen in his contorted position.
    “Come on! Get out of here!”
    He was as frozen as Westerfield. Damn. No way could she haul him out of there. She didn’t have much time.
    Now’s your chance. Forget about Eric. Save yourself.
    Instead she pushed Westerfield over. He landed on the concrete with a hard thud, but she was already grabbing the planks of boards in the pile and throwing them onto him. She grabbed his gun and stuffed it into the waistband of her pants. She dragged the tank over by the board it was still attached to and dropped it on him.
    The sounds of birds started again. Eric looked around in bewilderment, gasping for breath.
    “Help me!” she said. “Throw boards on the pile.”
    “What—” But he