Everywhere the lightning lands, the walls burn. Ahead of us, people scream, staring back. I see a sea of pale, frightened faces, and then they’re running away from us. No longer calm, just terrified out of their minds.
And not at the fire, but at us. Our little group.
My heart races. The lightning…it’s impossible. Inside a building. And seems to be coming from us.
Again, impossible.
Like last night, a voice nudges in the back of my thoughts.
But Aiden and Izzy aren’t done.
“What’s it to you what I do?” Izzy screams.
“Nothing!” he shouts back. “I don’t care!”
Hs eyes are wild, his face taut with frustration. It sure looks like Aiden cares.
I swear, it’s the most alive I’ve seen my twin look in four years.
More lightning explodes, hitting the walls in new places. But still, none of it touches us. Nor does the smoke affect us. In fact, even the heat of the fire barely registers in the back of my mind.
My heart starts racing. Something about this feels off. Like a dream...or a nightmare.
“Guys.” I push my way between them. “We’re about to die here.”
“No we aren’t!” Izzy glares at me.
I look at my brother, willing him to hear my words for once. “Aiden, look around us.”
At last, he does look around us. The flames dance in the green of his eyes, and his anger fades away. When he looks back at me, I see a soul-deep pain, a misery I know is always with him.
“You’re right,” he says, his voice no louder than a whisper.
Then it’s like something falls inside of Izzy. I see her expression change, and she glances around us, eyes wide.
“Oh my God, the building’s burning!”
“No shit!” Aiden says, but the anger is gone from his voice.
Not wanting them to start up again, I take her arm lightly and lead us toward the exit. On both sides of us, the walls are burning. Above us, the roof is consumed by flames. It all happened so fast. So fast that I feel my heart racing. Can we even get out of here in time?
And then as I’m about to start running, something strange happens. Out of the walls come shadows. People that I know in my heart are dead. They’re moving in the smoke, and I can almost convince myself it’s a trick of the smoke. Then I glimpse faces, and the shadows seem to solidify as they melt out of the wall. They gain color, life, solidity, as they move toward me.
“You guys see that, right?” I’m breathless.
“See what?” Izzy asks.
One of the dead, shadowy people smiles at me. “Hel, we’ve waited for you so long.”
“I’m seeing things,” I say, sweat dripping down my spine.
Suddenly, I feel Izzy pulling me along.
We’re all at a dead run, but the spirits keep up. Their laughter is all around me. They dance playfully in the flames, their movements graceful and strange.
We explode out onto the steps of the school. Soot-covered and frightened, students and teachers alike are knotted on the front lawn.
Behind us, the building groans. A second later, it crumbles.
Our little group turns as one and stares at the burning remains of the building. But my gaze is pulled to the shadowy spirits dancing in the smoke.
One of them approaches again. She bows before me, then rises. Gently, she places a silver crown on my head. “Hel, you were the queen of our Underworld. But this lifetime, you are a king. And you’ll rule us well.”
When she steps back from me, I reach up slowly. The crown is still there.
“Do I have a crown on my head?” I ask the others, my voice soft.
Izzy is the one to answer. “Yes.”
I turn slowly. All of them are wearing crowns.
“So do you.”
They reach up and touch theirs with the same look of shock on their faces.
“How is this possible?” Van asks.
“Last night,” I say.
My words quiet us all, and there’s nothing but the crackling of the flames.
A minute later, the sound of sirens come. Police and firetrucks pull up, and the firemen go to work, battling the flames as the crowd looks on in silence.
Suddenly, I feel Izzy at my side. Unable to help myself, I wrap an arm around her shoulders and feel an overwhelming measure of relief when she curls into me. Over her head, my gaze catches with Aiden.
I expect him to look jealous, maybe even angry, but instead he just looks…content. And that’s a word I’d never use to describe my brother. So, for once, I don’t feel the pressure of his emotions raging around me, which is strangely freeing. I release a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding and let myself enjoy this moment.
It’s been years since I touched Izzy. Years of having a wall between us that I was too afraid to try to break through. And even though this day has been one of the scariest of my life, it’s worth it just to touch her again.
“Are you okay?” she asks me.
It’s strange, because I am okay.
This isn’t like the last time. Then, I was younger. I’d never known loss or pain like that before, and the experience had changed me as a person. Probably in the worst possible way, other than that I’d learned to appreciate people, because you never knew when they might be gone.
This fire. These strange, unexplainable things…. I could handle them as long as I didn’t lose the people I loved. I could handle anything as long as they were safe.
“Reid?”
I look down at Izzy and wipe some of the soot from her face, gazing into her soft brown eyes. Those eyes have haunted me every night in my sleep. Izzy is the only woman I’ve ever loved. She was the only one for me from the time we were young. If I’d lost her today…I could never have forgiven myself. Especially because I’d never told her how I’d felt.
“I’m fine as long as you are.”
It wasn’t what I wanted to say, but it was the closest that I could get.
She reaches up and touches the crown on my head. The gesture feels strangely intimate.
“It suits you,” she says.
I feel an unexpected smile tug my lips and run fingertips along her crown, then down her hair. “You should wear yours every day.”
She gives a snort-laugh that I find adorable. “Yeah, like a freaking princess.”
“Guys.” Van’s voice holds an edge of steel.
I look at my friend. It’s got to be one of the few times in my life I’ve seen him look dirty and ragged. Even as a kid, he was expected to look perfect at all times.
And yet it isn’t just his disheveled appearance that makes me stiffen; it’s that the unshakable Van looks worried. So, I follow his gaze to where the students and teachers have begun to gather around a handful of policemen. Suddenly, dozens of fingers are pointing at us.
Fuck.
It’s hard to swallow as the police look in our direction.
“This isn’t good,” Izzy whispers.
It isn’t at all.
“You think?” Aiden says, but even he fails to sound sarcastic.
I don’t know what the hell is happening to us. Maybe we’re losing our minds. But the last thing we need is police right now.
“No one mention any of this weird stuff,” I say, already desperately forming a plan in my mind. “We didn’t do anything. There was a fire in the lab. That’s it.”
Everyone nods in agreement.
But somehow, I don’t think it’ll be that easy.
Chapter Seven
Izzy
The police officer enters the interrogation room, and I stiffen in my chair. He closes the door softly behind him and walks the few steps toward me. I study him, wishing like hell that I could get a read on him, but he’s as expressive as a rock with a mustache. An older cop, he must have enough experience to know better than to give anything away to his suspects.
Normally it’d be kind of interesting to see a cop this awesome at his job.
But it’s not so cool when I’m his suspect.
“Water?” he asks, his voice soft.
I nod, grateful.
He sets the cup down in front of me, and I sip from it eagerly. My eyes lock onto his weathered hand that rests on the edge of the table. Again, I can feel him evaluating me. Probably looking over my soot-covered skin and clothes, and noticing that there’s not a single piece of evidence that I breathed in smoke or was that close to blazing flames.
I should’ve died in those flames. Instead, I seem to have a mildly dry throat. Does he find that fact as strange as I do?
When he thumps an evidence bag down on the table between us, I jump, my gaze going to it. The spires of the crown tent the plastic bag. Just the sight of the strange crown makes my heart race. How am I supposed to explain the appearance of the crown to this police officer when I can’t explain it to myself?
“At first,” he says, “I mostly wondered why you would burn down your high school. And how. But I have to admit, right now I’m mostly wild with curiosity about how you ended up in possession of a solid gold crown.”
My heart drops in my chest. He’ll assume I stole it. Everyone always assumes that foster kids are thieves.
“It’s a prank,” I say, my voice coming out smooth, surprising even myself. “Our friend Van is ridiculously wealthy and ridiculously committed to a theme. We’re all dressing up as Norse gods for Comic-Con coming up in San Diego this summer.”
Wow. That came out...easily. And Norse gods? The only thing I know about Norse gods is that Thor is a hottie with a hammer.
“And the fire?” he presses. He almost seems convinced by my Comic-Con story. “Was that a prank too?”
“I don’t know what happened,” I say. “One minute we were in Chem, and the next the building was going up in flames. I think there must have been faulty equipment. We were lucky to get out alive.”
“Everyone says you and your friends were in the thick of it.”
“Friends?” I’m not sure I’d call us friends.
In fact, Aiden and I were in the midst of a pretty intense argument when the lightning started. I frown, thinking that over. We were fighting when the lightning began to rage through the building. Like...exactly when the lightning started exploding around us.
Something tickles the back of my thoughts. Lightning inside isn’t possible. None of what we saw in that building was possible. And yet, I can’t seem to explain it away.
“Yes,” the officer continues, and there’s a strange note to his voice, “the four young men who--”
Someone knocks on the door, and the police officer gives me official side-eye before he goes to the door. But instead of just answering it, he slips outside.
Once again, I’m left alone to marinate in my worries.
I’m definitely getting kicked out of my home. There’s no way my foster mom is going to cope well with the possibility that I set the school on fire.
And there’s something weird going on. Really weird. Something more than just the real possibility that I might be arrested. Something that feels like a fantasy.
Which isn’t possible. Right?
The police officer pushes open the door, his pale eyes blazing with aggravation “Come on, Isabelle. You’re free to go.”
“I am?” I’m already on my feet so fast that I bump into the table.
“Take your…” He makes an exasperated gesture toward the ridiculous crown as words fail him. “They’ll have the rest of your stuff at the front desk.”
“Thank you!” I could hug him, I’m so thankful to be getting out of here, but instead I grave the bag with the crown and hold it against my chest. But wait, am I still in trouble? Maybe if they’ve realized we’re innocent, word won’t get back to my foster mom. Somehow. “Is this...it?”
He raises his hands in the air, his voice coming out high and irritated. “I just work here. But, apparently, the fact that we have a number of witnesses who say you’re guilty of starting the fire doesn’t matter. It’s not going to be jail for you.”
I swallow, hard. “So I’m free to go?”
A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Not exactly. It seems someone powerful has an alternative for you.”
“Someone powerful?”
Who could possibly care about getting me out of the situation? My thoughts run through every possibility, and turn up nothing. I can’t think of a single person powerful enough to get me out of here, that would also care about me in the first place.
And what the hell does he mean by “alternative”?
He shrugs. “That’s all I know.” But as I move to pass him by the door, he touches my arm. “Be careful.”
“Why?” My heart beats faster.
“That guy…” he trails off.
Who could possibly make this cop nervous?
“Just stay out of trouble,” he finishes, looking away from me.
“I’m trying,” I promise, feeling unsettled.
And I mean it. Before today, I never imagined my goals in life would include staying out of jail, but things have changed pretty rapidly. Now, I’ve added the damn goal to my list. To the very top of my list.
I sign my stuff out from the front desk and stuff the crown into my backpack. The lobby of the police building is quiet, and I wonder where the guys are. I wonder more than I want to. Did some strange man get them out of jail too?
They don’t need a mystery man to get them out. They have parents who care.
When I walk out onto the front steps, dusk is falling. I frown, trying to figure out where I am and how I’m going to get home. I’ve never been to the police station on this side of the country before.
“Well, good evening, Loki.” It’s a low warm voice near my ear.
I turn to find a man standing unsettlingly close to me, and I take an anxious step back. He’s tall, impossibly tall, and I can’t quite guess his age. His face is smooth, almost ageless, but his eyes have the kind of experience that I usually see in people far older-looking than him.
I’m not sure where he came from. I didn’t see him in the lobby a second ago, and he must have moved silently to be by my side.
“No greeting?” He crosses his arms over his chest, drawing attention to his impeccable suit, the kind of tailored gray suit that I don’t usually see around here. He smiles. “It’s good to see you again.”
Again? This guy definitely has a few marbles loose. Better to get away from him as fast as possible.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” I say, heading down the stairs, putting some space between the two of us.
“I’m the dean of Godfrey Academy,” he says. “And I certainly don’t think we’re strangers. I paid an inordinate amount of money to get you and your friends out of that pickle… to give you an alternative to jail. You humans do love your money.”
“We humans?” I stare, my stomach flipping.
“You know what I mean.” His intense blue eyes hold mine.
My mind jerks away from his words, not wanting to think too much about them right now. “Where are the guys I was with?”
“Their parents came to pick them up.”
I don’t know why, but my chest aches at his words. So, they got picked up. And they left me here. That isn’t really a surprise to me. I’m no one to them, no matter how much the last couple of days have confused things in my mind.
“Is there anyone to pick you up?” He looks around. “I understand the police did call your guardian.”
I stare, heart in my throat. So, my foster parents know. “Where are they?”
“I think we both know the answer to that.”
They didn’t come. Figures. My palms feel sweaty. As long as I still have a place to sleep when I get to their house.
“I’ll take you home,” he offers.
“No offense, but you are sketchy as hell,” I tell him. “I’ll walk.”
He laughs at that. “You’re not wrong, Loki. But you’re safe with me.”
“Why are you call
ing me that?”
“Sorry.” He flashes me a warm smile. “Spoilers. For now, let’s get you home.”
Home. The word makes me wet my lips nervously. If the police already called my foster mom, and she didn’t come to get me, then I can only assume the worst. Better to expect that anyway. Might as well steel my heart for rejection.
“I’ll wait,” I tell him, fishing in my purse for my cell phone. “Someone will come get me.”
“Of course.” He produces a brochure from behind his back that looks almost like a shiny college brochure. “This is the brochure for my university. I hope you and your friends will join us beginning with the summer session. Take a look.”
“University?” I stare at him in confusion.
“Your next step from here,” he says, sounding unbelievably confident. “It’s something of a, well, reform school. But it’s not like any other reform school you’ve ever heard of.”
Just those two words—reform school—make my stomach clench. “The police said someone...you…convinced them I was innocent.”
His smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. “I can unconvince them just as easily, Izzy. I want you at my school. And I do tend to get what I want.”
He shakes the brochure at me, and I reluctantly come up the steps to take it from him. “I was planning to go to our community college in the fall. It’s too late for me to apply to another college.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “We have a very flexible admissions policy for special young people like yourself.”
I snort at that. Special’s never been on the list of adjectives anyone would apply to me.
“Make sure you don’t delay in coming to my school, Izzy,” he says.
I wave at him over my shoulder as I turn, texting with my thumb, trying to figure out which one of the boys is most likely to pick me up without annoying me.
“After all, your sister is depending on you,” he adds.
I spin, but he’s already gone.
Chapter Eight
Wilder
When I pull up outside the police station, Izzy is sitting on the steps. Her chin is propped up on her hand, and she looks so sad. Miserably sad. My heart lurches at just the sight of her, and something twists inside of me, knowing that she must have texted me because she had no one else to ask.
Magic For Dummies: A Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance (God Fire Reform School Book 1) Page 5
