Fire Starter (The Sentinels)

by David J Normoyle

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and showed it to him. “Don’t make me ring the police.”

  “It’s too late for them. Not that they’d help you in any case.” A dark mist rose from the grass and wrapped itself around him. The phone fell from my hand and I stumbled to a stop.

  When the mist cleared, the man was no more. In his place stood a creature out of nightmares. Blood thudded through my chest and I turned and fled, terror propelling my legs.

  Footsteps pounded behind me, coming faster and faster. I braced for impact, but instead of going straight for me, it burst past me on my left, the wind of its passing sending my jacket to flapping upward.

  I slowed, and my bare feet slipped on the wet grass. My legs went flying forward, and I thumped down on my backside.

  The beast’s snout twisted. Was that a smile?

  I scrambled back to my feet, turned and ran again. The beast dashed past me and this time, it struck out. My neck snapped to the side and pain exploded in the side of my head. I collapsed, then wobbled back to my feet.

  “I always like to play with my prey.” Its words came out as a series of rough snarls that I could just about understand. “A weakness of mine. But it’s time.” It leaped toward me.

  There was no escape. In its open maw and sharp teeth I saw death come for me. Resignation dimmed my spirits, but a deeper part of me roared defiance. If I died, it would be fighting.

  I threw my hands forward, trying to grab its neck, its face, something. Red light exploded outward, and the beast went flying back. I fell also, hitting my head against the ground, and spots danced in front of my eyes.

  I raised myself up with my arms. The creature was also on his backside, staring at me with wide shocked eyes. “I was told nothing about you,” it snarled. “Who sent you? What’s this all about?”

  I wished I knew. “Stay back, I’m warning you.”

  “And if I don’t?” it asked.

  I’ll probably die. “Don’t test me.”

  Despite my words, the beast must have picked up my uncertainty because its snout twisted. “It was a fluke.” It stood and prepared to charge.

  “It wasn’t.” It couldn’t be, because if it was, then I was dead. I wasn't sure what I had done previously but I focused on remembering and repeating it. Before the creature had a chance to get close, I thrust my arms forward and expelled.

  Red flames burst from my hands, forming a wall of fire between us. The beast yelped and retreated. The heat forced me backwards, but I continued to pour energy into the wall of fire and it grew in size.

  The creature snarled, still retreating. His eyes glittered as red light reflected off them. “I wasn’t paid enough for this.” It turned and raced into the trees, disappearing into the darkness.

  I lowered my arms and the wall of flame faded, then disappeared. I stumbled forward and put my hand through the air where it had been. Nothing. I grinned widely. I had created fire out of thin air. I had done real magic.

  Feeling woozy, my legs gave way beneath me and I collapsed into the grass. I couldn’t get any wetter so the dew didn’t bother me. I looked back toward the trees, relaxing as I decided the creature wouldn’t be back. If it did, I’d teach it to regret his return. I giggled. Perhaps I should have been frightened or shocked at what I had done, but it just made me giddily happy. I could do real magic. That could only be awesome.

  The wooziness in my head worsened. I rubbed my chest—something inside me felt weird. No, not weird, hot. I rubbed harder, then stuck my hand under my T-shirt and scratched at the skin of my chest. The heat inside me expanded, spreading outward until my whole torso felt like it was burning up. Beads of sweat popped onto my forehead and trickled down my face. I rolled over in the grass, but it didn’t cool me down in the slightest.

  I peered into the darkness of the gardens, looking for an attacker. But whatever was happening was coming from within. The heat clawed at me like something alive. I gasped as my insides burned.

  Think! I ordered myself. Figure this out.

  Whatever was inside me had something to do with magic, and I had just learned how to use magic. I remembered the sensation when I created the wall of fire, and I concentrated on trying to expel the heat. The heat inside me resisted.

  I thrashed back and forth in the grass. This was my body, and I was stronger than the thing inside me. The roof of the Collier Mansion swam into my vision. I lifted my arms and, with the full force of my will, I thrust outward. The heat disappeared from my body. I let out a long sigh of relief. My shoulders sank back into the grass, and a black weariness descended upon me.

  Chapter 9

  Thursday 04:10

  Sirens blared. My hand flopped across my chest. I turned my head to the side, and wet grass tickled my ear. I opened my eyes. Fire flickered in the corner of my vision and I jerked my head up.

  The Collier Mansion was ablaze. I stood and ran toward it, fell, got up and kept running. I couldn’t get too close because the heat beat me back. I was forced round to the front of the mansion and the flashing lights of the firetrucks and police cars.

  A teenage boy fought to get away from a fireman. “Let go!” he screamed. “My parents are in there, let me go.” The fireman clung to him tighter.

  A cracking sound came from the mansion and the walls shuddered. Thick arcs of water shot from the firetruck hoses and disappeared into the flames, but it was hopeless. The inferno drank the water hungrily.

  Beside the struggling boy, a teenage girl sat on the ground with a blanket wrapped around her shoulder and tears streamed down her face. When the boy kicked the fireman in the shins and got free for a moment, the girl reached up and grabbed the boy’s wrist. He stilled and turned to her. They looked at each other for a long moment as if in silent communication, then the boy knelt down and they embraced.

  I buried my head in my hands, knowing I had caused the fire. I had expelled the heat from myself and into the Collier’s Mansion.

  “What are you doing here?” I looked up to see a large barrel-chested man standing in front of me.

  “Nothing. The fire. Watching it.” I wasn’t able to make coherent sentences.

  “I’m Officer Connor Duffy.” He pulled out his wallet and showed me a shield, then gave a significant glance at my bare feet and wet clothes. “Tell me the truth. What are you really doing here?”

  Lying to authority figures was something I considered myself expert at, but at that moment the skill failed me and I resorted to the truth. “I’ve been staying in the treehouse on the grounds. I saw a creature... a beast.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Did this beast start the fire?”

  “No, I mean yes, I mean I’m not sure but he must have, right?” My truthfulness hadn’t lasted long.

  “Stay here.” Duffy pulled out his phone and dialed a number. “I have someone I need you to talk to. Don’t repeat what you said to me until after you see him.”

  I didn’t have the energy to do anything except sit and wait, ignoring the ever-growing heat.

  The internals of the mansion cracked and broke. Even distant treetops were bathed in flickering red light. Sirens blared. Emergency vehicles strobed blue lights.

  The turmoil of emotions inside me matched the external uproar. How does one deal with the knowledge that they are a murderer?

  I looked up at a shout to see that the policeman had returned and beside him stood a tall, thin man in a tan overcoat.

  Chapter 10

  Friday 22:25

  The full force of the returning memory faded away, and I saw the same man in front of me, only now sitting down in a dressing gown, sipping tea. The despairing emotions that had disappeared along with my memory buffeted through me with renewed force. “No.” I fell to my knees on the floor of Flavini’s shop. A flailing arm sent a row of fishing rods crashing to the ground. “That didn’t happen. You messed up my memory. Changed it.”

  “I’m not capable of changing memory,” Flavini said calmly. “The spell I cast on you only
works if it’s something that the person wants to forget. You burned through my magic pretty easy once you tried.”

  I shook my head, even as I knew what I had just remembered was the truth. I was responsible for the death of the Colliers. I had orphaned Alex and Jo and sentenced them to grow up in Gorlam’s. My mind shied away from the full consequences of that.

  “Duffy didn’t tell me much but I think I can guess what happened that night from your reaction. I’m glad I decided to let you in.” Flavini took a final sip of his tea, then placed his cup on the counter and stood. He moved toward the exit, stepping around the fallen fishing rods. “Curiosity satisfied, yet there are further chapters in this story, I think. I’m looking forward to finding out what happens next.” He opened the door. “For now, I’m sure you have plenty to think about.”

  I staggered to my feet. “You can’t just tell me what you just did and kick me out.”

  “I didn’t tell you anything. You just remembered. Nothing to do with me.”

  “Nothing? You wiped my memory to cover up what happened.”

  He shrugged, gesturing me out the door. “I owed a favor. Nothing personal.”

  I walked past him and out into the night. Magic had entered my life and turned me into a murderer. I remembered the brief thrill I’d felt when I’d first used magic and I shuddered. I didn’t know exactly what Flavini was, but I intended to close all the doors that led into the world of magic.

  “There won’t be any more chapters,” I told Flavini. “I’m never coming back here.”

  “So be it.” He closed and locked the door. The light in the back of the shop switched off, and darkness closed in on me.

  Chapter 11

  Saturday 01:05

  My legs, weary, bowed beneath me. I pushed open the gate to Ten-two and stumbled to the door. It wasn’t just the walk that made me tired but the weight I carried. The trip from Flavini’s shouldn’t have taken as long as it had, but my mind had wandered and I kept getting lost.

  Inside the living room, Tyler slept sitting up. I sat down on the couch beside him and gave him a shove.

  His mouth opened and closed a few times, and he wiped at some drool with the back of his hand, then his shoulders slumped back into the couch.

  “Wake up.” I shoved him harder.

  He toppled to the side, then jerked upright. “What is it? I didn’t do it.”

  “I did it,” I said.

  Tyler came to full awareness. “What are you doing here?”

  “I live here, remember.” I looked at the assorted rubbish lying on the coffee table. “Any weed around?”

  “You told me you don’t smoke,” Tyler said.

  “I don’t.” Too many of those who I knew from Gorlam’s ended up on drugs eventually. It never worked out well, and that had made me determined to avoid them. “But sometimes a person just needs to get wasted.”

  “Dude, you just described the way I feel all the time.” He picked a half-smoked joint from an ashtray. “Most of those who don’t imbibe remain forever closed to the truth.”

  “You mean things like werewolves and magic are real?” Maybe Tyler was more clued in than I thought.

  “Don’t be silly, dude. I’m not talking about children’s stories.”

  “Aliens?”

  He nodded seriously. “They are out there. I’ve seen proof on YouTube. Now that you are living with us, you’ll see the world as it really is.” Tyler slapped me on the back. “There’s hope for you. Maybe you aren’t so bad after all.”

  “Oh, I’m bad. I’m worse than bad.” I was a murderer. Parent-slayer. Orphaner.

  Tyler put the joint in his mouth, picked his lighter off the table and shook it. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Whatever you’ve done, someone else has done worse.”

  “I’m sure they have.” Hitler. Genghis Khan. Thinking about those who’d done worse wasn’t exactly comforting.

  A flame spouted from the lighter and Tyler lit the joint. He breathed in deeply, held, then slowly exhaled. I brushed the smoke away from my face and leaned back. I hated the smell of marijuana.

  Tyler took another long drag. “Some people do something bad, then they let guilt or despair from that eat them up from the inside. When heroin addicts waste away, it’s the drug that’s doing it to their body, but the blackness inside is the root cause. They think they deserve to rot.”

  That sounded about right. During the walk from Flavini’s, acid tore at my insides and I saw no end to the guilt. “Heroin, you say. Where can I procure such a fine solution to life’s problems?”

  “Dude, people do things they shouldn’t. Part of being human. Just have to accept it and move on.”

  I snorted. “It’s not that easy.”

  “What do you do with broken eggs? Make pancakes. Or scrambled eggs or whatever you’re having. No point in wishing the eggs were whole again. And what does guilt and obsessing about do? Just starts a downward spiral that only ends up with more smashed eggs.”

  “You are saying I should focus on making things better?”

  Tyler handed the joint across to me. “I’m saying forget about what happened and move on.”

  “How is that making pancakes?”

  “Pancakes, dude, what are you talking about?” Tyler leaned his head back onto the backrest of the couch and within moments was fast asleep once more.

  A thin trail of smoke drifted upward from the joint in my hand. I put the butt in my mouth, then glanced across at Tyler’s faintly snoring form. As usual, he wore his pink dressing gown and purple crocs. That wasn’t where I wanted to end up.

  I threw the joint into a mug with black gunk congealing on the bottom. A few puffs wouldn’t turn me into Tyler, but I’d seen that using drugs to solve problems was a slippery slope.

  Would I be able to, with time, forget what I had done? Perhaps I could leave Lusteer and gain some distance that way. Only Duffy and Flavini knew my crime, and I didn’t think Flavini would tell anyone. Duffy, on the other hand, would have no hesitation blackmailing me.

  A thought popped into my head. Why had Duffy been there that night? Everything I knew about him told me that he wasn’t the kind of cop who did night duty or responded to calls.

  If he was there, it was because he was involved. The two main gangs in the city were the Reds and the Whites, and he was thick with both of them. It had to be him who had sent Williams that night, probably because of that article that Jo found. John Collier had wanted to write about supernatural enforcers, and one had been sent to shut him up.

  I spotted a pen underneath the coffee table and picked it up. Green ink but it worked. With no paper on hand, I ripped off a section of cardboard from a pizza box. Making a list of problems was an old-fogey type of thing to do, but desperate times and all that. I wrote.

  1. I murdered John and Alice Collier.

  2. Alex and Jo Collier are orphans in Gorlam’s.

  3. I promised the orphans I’d find their parent’s murderer.

  4. Duffy has leverage on me.

  5. I can do magic.

  6. Werewolves are real.

  7. I just confessed my crimes on the back of a pizza box.

  I decided to deal with them in reverse order. The last problem could be solved by burning the pizza box. I crossed it off. The next two: werewolves and magic. Clearly a hidden world existed that most knew nothing about and I had stumbled into it. I had lived my whole life without crossing paths with that other world, so it shouldn’t be too hard to avoid it in the future. I had found out enough about magic to know that I should stay well away from it in the future. I crossed out four and five from my list.

  Next one, the problem of Duffy and his hold on me. Duffy might think I owed him, but I knew he was involved in that fire. I also had access to that article that he wanted to remain out of the public domain. Blackmailing him would be dangerous, but I was determined not to become one of his stooges. I crossed out number four.

  Number three, finding the murderer for Alex and J
o. A stab of guilt constricted my stomach. Could I tell them the truth? I shook my head, unable to imagine myself doing that. However, I also knew that Williams and Duffy were involved. Perhaps I could satisfy Alex and Jo with part of the truth.

  I didn’t cross off that one off the list, but ideas had begun to circulate, the beginnings of a plan. I moved to number two on the list, Alex and Jo being in the orphanage. I nodded to myself. I had lived in Gorlam’s and I knew the system—I could figure out a way to help them.

  I came to number one. I killed John and Alice Collier. Instead of crossing that one out, I circled it several times, digging the point of the pen into the cardboard. That was the one I couldn’t so anything about. The Colliers were dead and it was my fault. I had to learn to live with it or let it eat me up inside.

  I took Tyler’s lighter and lit the corner of the cardboard. A small flame sprung into life and crept across the green-colored writing. As I watched it burn, I was taken back to that night and seeing the mansion burn. In my head I heard screams.

  The tips of my fingers flared with pain and I jerked my hand away. The burning cardboard fell on the ground and I stamped on it to put out the fire.

  The cardboard was reduced to black flakes. The green-ink confession was gone. My crime never would be.

  But perhaps I could make amends. Of sorts.

  Chapter 12

  Saturday 11:50

  I shoved open the door of Bibi’s doughnut shop. Heads snapped around as Duffy’s men all turned toward me. I charged straight toward Duffy in the corner. Chairs toppled over as the men scrambled to their feet, drawing their weapons.

  Ignoring the guns pointed at me, I stopped in front of Duffy’s table. “We need to talk.”

  “So talk.”

  “In private.”

  Duffy’s chair creaked as he leaned back. The guns pointed at me caused an itch in the back of my neck that I desperately wanted to scratch. I held Duffy’s gaze. The silence hung heavily in the air until Duffy finally nodded. His men retook their seats though several didn’t reholster their weapons, instead placing them on the table.