by Harold Wall
A reluctant smile tugged up his mouth. "Don't scare him off."
"Please. I'm just the first line of defence. If he gets by me, he's got her big brother and that rabble of friends to deal with, and they have a much nastier bite. Wait until Sunny
brings home the first boy. You won't be so sanguine then."
"Sunny will not be bringing boys back any time soon," he said firmly. "I'll forbid it."
"That's a bold move. I'm sure teenagers must have something they find more tempting than the forbidden, but I'm struggling. Sleep, perhaps. Snapchat."
"Maybe you have a point." He took a thoughtful sip. "What's a snapchat?"
Oh dear. He was serious. "It's something you'll learn a lot about if you insist on forbidding boys."
"Explain."
Well, what the man wanted, the man got. "Pour me a glass. And pour yourself another one. You're going to want it."The
doorbell droned like the buzzer in a boxing match. And Celia had ringside seats for her mother versus Will, round one. She hoped he could hold his own; she only wanted one
knockout in the room, and that was her in her lace dress.
Sunny started humming Ride of the Valkyries.
"That's not funny," muttered Celia around the last coat of lipstick.
"You know it is. How do I look?" She swirled to her feet in a smooth motion; her French braid swished like a whip, stark against the floating wisps of the periwinkle dress. It bared
her shoulders and back in a plunging curve, contrasted by the zigzagged hem. In it, Sunny looked delicate and fey, and somehow dangerous too.
"Don't be surprised if Finn jabbers like a fool, that's all I'm saying."
Sunny slid on her flat pumps. "What do you mean jabber? He always talks a lot."
"He talks a lot to hide the fact his brain is oozing out of his ears at the sight of you." Celia paused from where she knelt, fastening her strappy heels on. "Tell me you realised he
has fallen madly, deeply and tragically in lust with you."
"He has?" She preened a little. "And he knows? About the demon thing?"
"What? No, of course not."
The gleam died in her eyes. "Oh. I thought Riose would have told him. You said Finn was his best friend." She cocked her head. "Isn't...isn't that a best friend thing, sharing
secrets?"
She was torn between racing downstairs to intercept her mother in full flow, and the utter pathos in that question, as if friends were merely an abstract concept Sunny had heard of.
"Normally. Except sharing your secret could get someone hurt. We'd never do that without your permission. But if you want Finn to know, tell him. He wouldn't care."
"Uhhuh." A world of scepticism in those words. "I've heard that before."
Oh god, that was her mother's voice downstairs, and she couldn't hear the words, which was even worse. Celia fiddled with her other shoe. "Sunny, I can't make you believe me.
Tell Finn, or don't. All the goofing about is a big front for the fact he's waiting for his life's great love. And trust me, when he meets that someone, he won't care if they're human or
demon or angel. When he falls, he'll fall heart and soul."
There was a dense silence, broken at long last by Sunny's sigh.
"What a love that would be," she whispered. "Like a thousand days of fire."
Clued in by the warm breeze that had appeared in the sealed room, Celia glanced up. There was a brilliance in Sunny's eyes, radiant in her skin, as if the mere thought of Finn's
perpetual devotion had flushed her with life.
There were a lot of reasons for someone to love Finn. But this wasn't on the list.
"Just remember that we like his heart and soul the way they are," she said sharply. "Unbroken."
There was something of the hawk staring down the mouse in her eyes. "Are you threatening me?"
"Warning you." She sighed. "Sunny, you're beautiful and mysterious and that's like – like crack to Finn. And most of the guys. But Finn's the one I don't want messed with, because
he's my friend. If you like him – really like him, not just the idea of him, you guys figure it out. But don't hurt him."
She looked up at the demon before her, bathed in the light of a world she couldn't see, burning with its cruel heat. It could so easily become a fight.
And the thought came to her: I'm so tired of fighting, and it's not even the weekend.
"Please don't hurt him," she said softly. "I can't stop you, but I can ask."
The heat seeped away. "And I can honour that." Sunny's smile wobbled. "But what if he hurts me?"
Even demons were afraid of heartbreak. That was reassuring, somehow.
"Then I will kick his ass," she said solemnly. "No one hurts my friends. Not even my other friends."
For a moment then, Sunny glowed with a light that was nothing to do with demons. All was well.
Except...
"Will!" she gasped, grabbed Sunny. "Downstairs, now!"It
was quiet. That was not a good sign. Quiet meant trouble. Quiet meant an absent boy or a speechless one. Celia paused outside the living room, smoothed her dress and donned
her mask of neutrality.
In they went.
"Wow." There was Will, turning from the family portrait, free of tears and anger. He sounded relieved. "You two look like fire and ice."
"You're here," she said, too astonished to remember manners.
"William has been telling me about your lab exploits," said her mother. "Apparently you have wonderful chemistry" She paused to take a sip of – wait, was that whisky? "lessons
together."
Kurt looked like he was trying not to laugh.
"He begs innocence on the subject of why so many women are duelling for his honour in the modern Colosseum that is the girls' bathroom." Her mother tilted a look at Celia's
scratches, which she had left bare. "I suspect it's a question you'll be asked a lot, so I'd prepare an answer if I were you. One better than William's just lucky, I guess."
Will shifted uneasily.
"Well, have a lovely evening," her mother chirped. "Don't be back too late."
What?
"Is that it?" said Will, equally startled. "Based on, uh, previous history, I was expecting more of a...Colditz feel."
"Oh. How descriptive. Well, you haven't tried to sing, and you had the sense to refuse a shot of whisky." Her mother's sideways scowl at Kurt explained that. "You managed a better
compliment than wow, your beams are on full, which was what the last one had to say, and you genuinely seem to like my daughter. I'm sure you want to..." To Celia's everlasting
horror, her mother whipped out some air quotes. "Get jiggy with it, or whatever the youth of today call making the beast with two backs, but that isn't your only concern. So
congratulations. You have my seal of approval."
Kurt had his head in his hands. Judging by the smothered sounds, he was laughing so hard he might rupture something.
"Go forth and multiply," said her mother with a negligent wave of her hand. "By which I mean, go forth and absolutely do not, under any circumstances, multiply. But enjoy it."
Will looked shellshocked. This was familiar territory.
"Thanks Mom," she said, accepting this Pyrrhic victory. A wicked idea struck her and before she could think better of it, Celia added. "We'll be back late. And as you've clearly got
one thing on your mind, don't seduce Mr S. I do not want to hear about any viewings of Crouching Tiger Mom, Hidden Shagging."
She heard her mother's gasp – and not the rest, because like Harrison Ford in The Fugitive, Celia was running for her life, Will and Sunny hot on her heels as they burst, laughing,
into the lush summer evening.By
the time they arrived, fashionably late, the buzz was beginning. Sunny saw it before she heard it; ribbons of gold and green and cherryred undulated in the sky, human passions
painted on the only canvas large e
nough to hold them.
Underneath the display, the barn seemed small. Ordinary. That suited her fine. As they drew closer, she felt the music in the balls of her feet, and her heart leapt in response. She
was here, at a party, and the only people who knew what she had become didn't seem to mind.
The wooden doors swung open to reveal a lowlit world pierced only by the webs of fairy lights that laced the walls and the glittering fog of emotion she was learning to ignore. A makeshift DJ booth was manned by one of the shapeshifters as he mixed and tweaked and polished the tracks on a pair of shiny laptops. Speakers flanked him, and while it was too
early for dancing, knots of people congregated nearby.
Finn bounced over and gave Celia an enthusiastic hug and Will a flinty stare. Sunny was expecting a hug too, but instead she got a weirdly formal handshake.
"You made it!" he crowed. "Grab a drink, someone's already dumped a bottle of rum into the virgin mojito and deflowered it. Sam's got an amazing set lined up, and I have got
some even more amazing moves to go with it."
"Just you?" said Celia, suspicious.
"Do I look the sort of man who works alone?" he demanded, throwing his arms wide. "Arch will be joining me for our inaugural interpretation of the 80s finest hits."
Sunny reevaluated her opinion of him. "I didn't know you could dance."
"Like nobody's watching," said Finn loftily. "Some have called it poetry in motion."
"Didn't Leanne throw up in her own hair after she said that?" enquired Will.
"That's not the point." Finn turned to her, and Sunny was surprised at the feelings that emanated from him – uncertainty mingled with hope, at odds with his confident smile. "Can I
get you started with a drink?"
"Mojito sounds good," she ventured.
"And tastes better." He steered her towards a table packed with plastic cups. As shapeshifters parted before them like the Red Sea, Sunny tried not to notice. Instead she focused
on the soft sensation of his nerves, fluttering on her skin like butterfly wings. "You look great, by the way. Did Celia tell you how these things normally go?"
"Not really. I think she was kind of distracted."
He wrinkled his nose. "Oh. Ratner. Well, he's not the worst guy she's dated."
"That's a rousing endorsement."
"I just think she can do better. And I wish she thought it too," he said a touch grumpily. "Want to see something cool?"
She slid him a sideways look. "Maybe. Is this going to be anything like when Mike said he had something amazing I had to see?"
His eyes widened. "Depends. Did the something involve him unzipping his flies?"
Sunny grimaced. "Yes. He wasn't too happy at what happened next."
"A swift punch to the crotch?"
"Worse, I think." His raised eyebrows were an invitation to continue. "I laughed. Quite a lot." She leaned in. "It wasn't very amazing at all."
A laugh burst from him. "Ouch. No wonder he was sulking all day. Talk about rough justice."
"So what did you want to show me?" she asked, thinking of Celia's words: all that goofing about's a big front.
He cupped his hands around her drink, and when he took them away, blue flames rippled across the surface.
Fire… Sunny stared at it, paralysed. Before, she had never minded fire – it was heat, light, it was marshmallows toasted on campfires, family evenings around a logburner,
birthday candles and barbecues.
Then she had been taken to the hollow place and she had learned the true versatility of fire. In the everchanging, shapeless void where the demons existed, fire was their greatest
weapon. They hated it, for it was all they were not, and so it was both their obsession and their greatest punishment. To stave off the darkness, they filled their world with flames,
and there was only one source of fuel.
She, who had defied them so long, came to know fire as a drowning man knows the strength of water.
She had learned how the pain of a burn would linger long after the flames were extinguished. She had learned how her skin looked as it was seared away, layer by layer. She had
come to hate her own body's power to heal because it meant there would only be more pain the next day; because she could not cease to hope for her humanity back, for Kurt and
Aurenna to save her from the future and what she would become.
She had come to within a petal's thickness of breaking; of scattering the pieces of her self like ashes because she could not bear to burn any longer.
Scarless, she stood with fire in her hands, and quivered.
"Sunny..." Concern, raw in his voice. His hands covered hers: and Finn drew her back into this world. His emotions were like a cool wind, tearing her ghosts into scraps of mist.
"Are you all right?"
Her voice was scratchy. "Please, can you put it out?"
His fingers flickered. The flames simmered into nothing.
"Thank you." Her muscles unlocked. Embarrassment came next – there were tears standing in her eyes, and no way to explain herself. What sort of demon feared the fire? What
sort of person froze in terror at a lit drink? "I'm sorry."
There was a gentleness to Finn then; he took away the drink and replaced it with another. She didn't know how to thank him for doing something she hadn't known would help. And
then he brought her a napkin so she could dab away the unwanted tears.
She cleared her throat. "Maybe you should have unzipped your flies."
"At least I'd have made you laugh," he sighed. "This doesn't normally happen."
"You were going to tell me what does normally happen," she prompted. At his hopeful glance, she managed a wavering smile. "Please?"
He perked up. "Well, first, we mingle. You dazzle the men with your beauty, and I dazzle them with my witty remarks and debonair style."
Her smile firmed. "I can't be witty or debonair?"
"Of course. But with this hair, I can't be beautiful, so you have to leave me a virtue or two." He held up a lock of ginger hair for scrutiny. "Then we drink, we dance, we have a
great time, and everyone lives happily ever after. Until they wake up tomorrow and realise just how much rum Marcus tipped into the mojitos." He paused. "Think you can handle
it?"
"I don't know." She took a deep breath. "But there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"
o0oPeople
were staring. A lot. They stared, and they were talking in that low fast way that meant Celia couldn't hear anything but the familiar cadence of her name. She felt the
scratches, lurid on her skin, felt the bruise she had almost hidden under artful curls.
"So how much trouble will you be in when you get home?" said Will, grinning at her.
"Depend how funny Mom thought it was. She tends to award points for style. Billy once got away without a grounding when he broke her phone because he was juggling a
cantaloupe and a leg of lamb at the same time." She shrugged at his startled look. "She said her stupidity in watching it cancelled out his stupidity in doing it. And he tenderised the
lamb pretty well."
He laughed. "Your family seem really tight." His eyes were wistful. Celia only knew what little he'd told her about his family from comments in labs – divorced parents, a
disinterested mother in another state, attentive but highflying dad. "If a little nuts."
"A little?" She linked her arm with his. "Please. My family's so full of nuts there should be an allergy warning on the front door."
They were spotted by some of Will's teammates. Time dissolved in banter and conversation and a carousel of brightlycoloured drinks. She tried to ignore the flick of eyes to her
wounds; no one asked, but everyone looked. To her relief, Sunny joined them, and some of the attention slid to her.
Butterflylike, Finn darted from group to group, playing host. He was in good fo
rm from the looks of it, swallowed up in hugs galore from girls, and enjoying every moment.
No Riose, but that was usual. He would be late because he'd squeezed in a catnap to ensure he was awake until the bitter end.
Chatter flowed over the music. She reckoned a good third of the school had turned up, packing the place to the gills. She was starting to relax when beside her, Will stiffened.
"What's up?" she said, following his gaze. There was a girl loitering by the drinks, watching them. A senior, she thought.
"I do not believe her," he muttered. Then he glanced down, mouth bent in a frown. "Cee...god, this is awkward. She's my brother's ex. She keeps – hassling me. I cracked, I said I'd
give her something of his. She was supposed to collect at the end of the night, but…do you mind if…?"
"No, go," she said easily. "I can amuse myself."
He cracked a smile. "I told you you're amazing, right?"
Will was absorbed into the throng. For a while, she peoplewatched, grinning at the sight of Sam Sheldon, normally so shy, defending the makeshift DJ booth like the wolf he was.
Finn was, as always, first on the dancefloor with Arch. Their rhythmic flailing was enough to persuade others to cast dignity and decorum to the wind. Even Sunny joined in, coaxed
by a couple of the football team. As friends, friends of friends and friendstwiceremoved continued to slip through the doors, the buzz of conversation was soft counterpoint to the
beat.
She glimpsed Phi's russet hair among some of the shapeshifters. Jo was there too, looking icily glamorous in a silver dress. Tentative, Celia approached – until Adrian Reynard gave
her such an unfriendly look that she stopped, feeling hot and cold all over.
Things with Jo still weren't smoothed over, then, and this wasn't the place. Tonight, she didn't want to dredge up the past, didn't want to feel it coating her again like grease she
couldn't wash off. She wanted to dance and chat and laugh and just be.
Then she felt other eyes – curious, wary, a dozen different gazes sweeping her like laser beams. Celia was too conscious of the scratches on her arms, redpink through the makeup.
Too aware of the bruises dull beneath her skin, like a cheetah's blotches. She felt alone and exposed. And she wanted out, away, now.
