Fire Within

by Ella M. Lee

  There was definitely more to what was going on here than I was understanding. This was a disagreement or feud that spanned more than a simple delayed council meeting.

  “Ciao, then,” Nicolas said, spinning me again gracefully and guiding me out in front of him with one hand at my waist and the other on my shoulder.

  Once we had exited the restaurant and the doors had closed behind us, his hands fell away from me immediately. I took a deep, shaky breath, still trembling.

  I’m really sick of being scared all the time, I thought.

  I was hoping he would hear me, but he didn’t even glance in my direction. His lack of reaction told me exactly how serious he was about his reputation in public. While I was relieved he hadn’t done anything worse to me in front of Derek, I was nervous about what that meant for me, trapped here with him.

  Chapter 9

  Once back in Nicolas’s apartment, I calmly walked into the bathroom and threw up everything I had eaten at dinner.

  I couldn’t help it. I was still scared, wondering about Gloria’s allusions and not quite knowing what parts of Nicolas’s statements were real or an act.

  To my relief, Nicolas waited until after I was finished before coming to check on me. Without a word, he placed a bottle of water on the floor next to me and handed me a cold, wet towel. I pressed it to my face as he left the room.

  Once I had collected myself, I went back out into the living room. Nicolas was sitting on the couch. With a tilt of his head, he invited me to join him. I didn’t have the energy to resist. I sat heavily, keeping several feet between us.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  I shrugged. I didn’t have an answer to that question.

  “You didn’t let Derek touch me,” I said.

  “I said I wouldn’t.”

  I studied him warily. I thought about how vague and circumspect he’d been in some of his statements, how carefully he had chosen his words and stances with me so far. He seemed like a man whose promises meant a lot to him.

  Another tiny piece of the puzzle that was Nicolas Demarais.

  “Thank you,” I said, putting my hands to my face in an attempt to beat back my tears.

  “I’m sorry for my unwelcome advances,” he said. “It was better to be as convincing as possible when it came to showing Derek my intentions with you.”

  “Still an act, I hope,” I said.

  Nicolas had an unnerving amount of talent when it came to shifting his tone and expression, and I still couldn’t tell if that was due to fantastic acting skills or genuine swings in his moods and personality.

  “Of course,” he said.

  His tone was clipped and mildly offended. His magic shifted uncomfortably, flaring out, startling me. All right, I would need to stop questioning his integrity; it clearly displeased him.

  “But I can see you are still frightened,” he continued, his tone gentler. “Tell me what is worrying you.”

  “Dinner was terrifying,” I whispered. “You don’t know what it’s like, with everyone looking at me as though I’m your next snack. Everyone impressed and congratulating you for doing this to me.” I waved at my face.

  “But you are strong, and you lived through it,” he said.

  “It was humiliating. And if your plan works, the one where you want me to join Water, then what will they think of me? That I’ve been abused and broken by you?”

  “No one in this clan is untouched by pain and suffering, especially not within my group,” he said. “I wouldn’t worry about that yet. There are more immediate concerns, like what to do about Derek, who was staring at you as though you’re his next snack, and who is making my life rather difficult right now.”

  “That’s another thing—” I started, but he held up a hand.

  “One discussion at a time, please,” he said, leaning back. “There are things you want to know, and I promised you answers.”

  I waited, watching him compose his thoughts. He looked tired and sad, all the light in his eyes now dimmed, all his magic wrapped up tight. His expression was grave as he touched the fingertips on both of his hands together in thought. I felt bad for raising my voice at him.

  “You’re afraid of me,” he started. “That’s understandable, but I’m not going to hurt you. Anything I say out there is for them. It makes sense to them that I’m going to make you suffer. It’s part of the reputation I have here, and I’m fine with that. So I’ll give them those implications, and I’ll take credit for that ugly bruise marring your face.

  “When it comes to protecting you from Derek or anyone else, I’ll do whatever seems appropriate for the situation. I’m sorry for that, because I don’t want to frighten you or violate you. I hope you trust me when I say that I’m always picking the safest option, and I have far more information than you do.

  “Here, behind closed doors, I won’t touch you. Not for sport, not to frighten you, not to tame you. Despite my reputation, I don’t hurt people for amusement. And when we’re out there? I’ll try my best not to do anything you wouldn’t like. You’ve been so good at your role even after only one day. Do you think you can keep it up?”

  I sighed. “Sure, why not?” I said, resigned to having no other options.

  He was studying me, but I kept my eyes averted. I was trying very hard not to throw up again, breathing as deeply and evenly as I could. Dinner had completely unnerved me, surrounded by so many people who more than likely would prefer I were tortured or dead.

  “You want to know what Gloria meant when she mentioned my past slaves,” Nicolas said, closing his eyes for a moment. “This is a good thing for you to learn because it has to do with Derek. Several years ago, there was a raid on one of Derek’s safehouses, much like the raid your group performed on mine. I happened to be in the area with another groupmate, so we came to Derek’s defense. The raid went similarly to yours, with losses on both sides. We ended up with two captives, two women from Wild Clan. They were the two that my groupmate and I fought. Derek and his groupmates had killed the other Wild members.

  “We argued over who would retain them. I contended that I had spared them personally and that they belonged to me. Derek contended that they had come to kill him, and therefore they belonged to his group for justice. I knew what would happen to them if Derek kept them, so I forced the issue and took them regardless.

  “Derek was enraged. A few nights later, he broke into my safehouse—not here, somewhere far less secure—while I wasn’t present and murdered them. He tortured them first, and they suffered merely so that he could send me a message.”

  Nicolas paused, not looking at me. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, his voice low and harsh. I felt terrible for him and for the women he had tried to protect. He had told me he wasn’t a monster, and I was beginning to believe him.

  “It was a mistake on my part,” he continued. “A massive, arrogant mistake, one that I can never take back. I couldn’t prove Derek had done it. It also involved captured slaves, so I couldn’t invoke any clan laws. But I knew it was him, and I knew they didn’t deserve what happened. There was so much I could have done to prevent their deaths, but I wasn’t thinking, wasn’t planning properly. All my information, all my abilities, and I had failed at this one important thing.”

  He sighed shakily. “I’ve always had a rather cold-blooded reputation here in Water, but this event was part of the reason I hardened my reputation even further, so that absolutely no one will fuck with me. I didn’t want to do it, but I want to be able to keep my people safe. If I can do that by taking on the burden of seeming cruel and cold, then so be it.”

  “Is it hard?” I asked. “Pretending to be something you’re not?”

  He hesitated. “It used to be,” he said. “It used to destroy me every day to walk around crafting perfect sentences and perfect expressions for every single situation, to formulate exactly the right impressions. Nowadays? It’s second nature. I’m basically method acting at this point, able to easily dig out the exa
ct emotions I need in every scenario to make my performance as believable as possible.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I asked, studying his pained expression. “Doesn’t it ruin whatever you’re trying to do with me if I know you’re not really a terrible person?”

  He surveyed me. “Just because I’m not a terrible person who will beat you and rape you in my spare time doesn’t mean I won’t hold firm to our deal. Water is my clan and my home. I obey our laws and protect our existence. You are an enemy captive. Your choices are still either proving your usefulness to me in some way or execution.”

  “Fair,” I whispered, shrugging.

  There were only so many times I could be told “you might be executed” before the shock factor wore off. Although it was an ever-present fact of my life right now, it was merely one more worry on top of all the other things compressing my chest—grief, fear, weariness, hopelessness.

  “Was Daniel with you when you went to Derek’s aid?” I asked, wondering why he hadn’t named the group member who had helped.

  “It was my previous lieutenant, Jackson,” he said. “This incident predates Daniel. He’s only been with me for about five years.”

  “He seems young for a lieutenant,” I said. “Unless he’s not nearly as young as he appears?”

  “Daniel is quite young,” Nicolas said. “He holds many records here in Water, including youngest lieutenant. I promoted him three months after I clanned him.”

  My eyes widened in surprise. Three months was an incredibly short amount of time. In Flame, three months usually meant someone would still be firmly wrestling to get their power bound properly to their body.

  Nicolas smiled at my reaction. “You may doubt Daniel—that’s fine, you don’t know him—but he is incredible. Talented at everything and a perfect match for my group and this life.”

  I eyed him incredulously. Could that be true? Could tiny, temperamental Daniel be a genius? Nicolas obviously trusted him beyond measure. I would have to make more of an effort with him if I wanted to stay here.

  “Too bad he hates me,” I muttered.

  Nicolas laughed. “Don’t worry about Dan. He’ll warm up to you. He’s understanding and compassionate compared to many people in Water. The others in my group will need more winning over, but all in due course.”

  He paused, folding his hands again. “I know it bothers you, but it’s preferable that you act as my obedient pet for now. If it makes you feel better, I don’t like pretending to enjoy your fear and pain. I’m taking the path that I think will work out best for you, and for my own plans.”

  “So what do we do now?” I asked, and his eyes flashed to mine at my use of “we.” I had surprised both of us with that slip of the tongue.

  “Rest,” he said. “You are exhausted and in shock, and I think I need a hundred hours of sleep to feel normal again.”

  He stretched and rolled his shoulders. He did look tired, and I was more exhausted than I’d ever been in my life. It was hard to believe Nicolas had only brought me out of my cell this morning—it felt like an eternity ago.

  Right now, I was upset and ill. Was I in shock? I wondered if I would ever feel okay again. It didn’t seem like sleep alone could cure me of anything. If anything, sleep was both wholly necessary and completely impossible right now.

  “Tell me, do I have to worry about you stabbing me in the back tonight?” Nicolas asked, studying me.

  “No,” I said, putting my head back in my hands.

  I must have looked miserable enough that he didn’t bother asking for elaboration. He merely said, “Excellent. Thank you.”

  He went to the bedroom and returned a moment later with a pillow and a couple of thick blankets. He handed them to me before turning away again.

  His tired voice drifted back to me from the bedroom. “Good night, Fiona.”

  But it wasn’t a good night. How could it have been? Despite being exhausted, my body refused to relax. I huddled under the blankets for a while, taking deep breaths to calm my shivering. Every time I found myself drifting into sleep, my mind would sound alarm bells that shot adrenaline through me painfully.

  Nicolas did not fall asleep immediately, either. I could see the glow of his phone through the open door and hear him shifting occasionally. It was only once he seemed to be asleep that my heart slowed a little, but I still couldn’t even close my eyes without my body panicking.

  I curled myself into a ball, trying to stave off nausea and a full-blown panic attack, but it didn’t help. Soon enough, I was up and off the couch, running to the bathroom.

  I vomited again several times, unable to stop even when my throat was raw and there was nothing left in my stomach except bile. Afterward, I pressed my cheek and hands to the cold tile and cried.

  How had I even managed to get this far? Why hadn’t I broken down last night or this morning? How had I pushed myself through this situation until now without falling apart?

  And how was I supposed to keep doing it?

  I had no idea how long it was before my tears trailed off into numbness, before my fear and anxiety and agonizing grief faded to nothingness.

  The people I loved were dead and gone, my brain kept reminding me, reigniting sharp pangs of sadness within me. Everything I’d worked toward for years had been destroyed. Not a single person here cared about me or my problems. No one was going to pick me up off this floor and take care of me except myself.

  But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t get my limbs to move, couldn’t bring myself to even shift. I suffered through the cold and the pain and merely tried to avoid focusing too closely on the ruins of my life.

  Get up, I told myself over and over again, but it didn’t happen.

  Would it be better if I were dead? It would be so nice to feel nothing—no throbbing headache, no misery and heartbreak crowding the pit of my stomach, no fear vibrating my skin uncomfortably.

  It didn’t matter how kind Nicolas had been to me today, how many reassurances he had given me that I’d been doing well. He still held a guillotine blade above my neck, and I wasn’t going to forget that merely because he said everything was okay.

  Everything was not okay.

  I tried to remind myself that he’d healed me, was taking care of me, and was giving me a chance, but it didn’t work to stop my brain from summoning up frightening images of him hauling me back down to my cell. Or worse, hauling me to some dimly lit room full of sharp objects and strapping me to a table.

  I had no idea how I had managed to impress him so far, but right now I had nothing left with which to fend off hopelessness. I was done, shredded, run through.

  A quote came to me from a favorite poem by Rainer Maria Rilke:

  She was already loosened like long hair,

  poured out like fallen rain,

  shared like a limitless supply.

  He had been writing about the dead Eurydice, condemned to the underworld twice: once by death and a second time by her lover Orpheus’s mistake.

  It felt much like I had died once, captured in Vienna, consigned to the same fate as my friends.

  Was this my second death? Here? Giving up because it seemed like there was no way to continue? Any determination I had briefly felt was gone, drained. All the strength and verbal wit and quick thinking I’d shown to Nicolas earlier was unreachable right now.

  Dawn came, golden and lovely yet still not enough to inspire me. I didn’t want Nicolas to find me on the floor of the bathroom, so I moved back into the living room. I wrapped a blanket around myself and went to sit by the windows with a bottle of tea in my shaking hands. I was so tired I could hardly think, so cold and numb that nothing seemed to matter anymore.

  It was fully light out when Nicolas finally emerged from his bedroom. I didn’t move, sitting with my head in my hands, wondering if I was so detached from this situation that I could view it with dispassion from afar, like it was someone else’s pathetic life.

  I noticed Nicolas studying me in my peripheral
vision, but I didn’t turn my head, didn’t greet him. I didn’t care what he thought of me, and he didn’t share his opinions. After a moment, he continued on to the bathroom.

  He didn’t say a word to me as he went about his day. I watched him calmly go through a yoga routine and several core exercises with earphones in. He was beautiful and feline and graceful—a top-notch fighter. My eyes lingered on the smooth muscles of his arms and shoulders as he moved.

  I reminded myself dully that those muscles had hurt me and killed my friends, but my traitorous eyes still studied them.

  After his light workout, he sat at the large dining room table and typed on his laptop. The most interesting minutes were when he took a brief phone call in Cantonese. He stretched out on the couch languidly, his features more expressive than usual as he smiled faintly at whatever was being said to him.

  He had done all of that as well as showered and changed clothes, and I still hadn’t moved, my eyes barely focused on the distant buildings. I was so zoned out, in fact, that I jumped, completely startled, when Nicolas kneeled at my side later.

  With careful motions, he placed a mug of tea next to me on the floor. His eyes met mine for a brief moment, light and concerned in the morning sun. I looked away.

  Only after he had gotten up and returned to the bedroom did I bring my eyes down to the mug of tea, eyeing it warily. It was a much gentler offering than I would have expected from him, but he had so far defied all my expectations, leaving me wondering what to do here and how to develop a relationship with him.

  Nicolas, who had threatened me. Nicolas, who had taunted me in front of his clanmates. Nicolas, who had implied all the horrible things he had done in the past and would do to me if he was forced.

  Nicolas, who had healed me when he didn’t have to. Nicolas, who had explained more about himself and his motives than I would have ever expected. Nicolas, who had made me tea. Nicolas, who seemed to be trying to give me as much space as he could.

  Nicolas in public versus Nicolas in private. The key to this game, it seemed. If I could manage to summon any energy, I thought maybe I could work with that.