Of Flame and Light: A Weird Girls Novel

by Cecy Robson

  “Yeah, poor bastard,” I mutter.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he says to Celia, bending to kiss her lips.

  She smiles against his mouth. “Hey, wolf,” she answers, stroking his beard lightly.

  Emme inches away when Celia’s stare suggests the need for something more than breakfast. Aric, being Aric, returns that look with equal force. I start to laugh, not because of Celia and Aric, but because of Emme’s response. She’s glancing around at the food like she knows it’s going to end up splattered across Celia’s and Aric’s soon-to-be naked bodies.

  My laugh lodges in my throat when my right arm jerks as if shocked. Shayna lowers her fork. “You okay, T?” she asks.

  I shove my arm under the table. “Fine,” I say. I reach for glass of juice with my opposite hand, trying to stay calm. Celia and Emme didn’t notice my twitch, and I don’t think Aric did either, but something about me lures his attention away from Celia.

  He cocks his head, his nose flaring as if his alpha wolf has latched onto something. “Taran, what’s wrong?” he asks.

  Celia’s and Emme’s attention drifts my way. Shayna rises, fear crinkling her brow.

  “I’m tired,” I say dismissively, feeling my pulse start to race. I push my chair out. “I should head back to bed. I didn’t sleep much―”

  All at once, and without warning, pain burns its way across my affected limb, curling me forward in agony. My arm whips out, sending the table and all its contents soaring with freakish speed. Plates shatter on the floor as the table imbeds with a loud bang into the wall, directly above where Celia sat seconds before.

  I lift my head as the burn recedes, searching for her, panicked I harmed her. Tears of relief and residual pain slide down my face when I see Aric lower her to floor and far away from me. She and our sisters stare back at me stunned. But Aric? Holy shit, he’s pissed.

  “Taran, what are you doing?” he growls.

  I shake my head, knowing he’s angry I almost hurt Celia. “I’m not doing anything . . .”

  The burn returns and so does its torment. This time, I can’t bite back my screams. I stumble forward. Aric races to me. I don’t see him. I only feel his body and hear the crunch of bone when my arm flails and connects with his jaw.

  He crashes against the granite counter with a grunt as my arm jerks wildly and the burn increases tenfold.

  My vision fades in and out and my body thrashes, the erratic movements of my limb throwing me against the wall. I collapse, my arm still beating itself against the floor with enough force to splinter and punch through the wood. I’m not thinking. I can’t. Everything hurts.

  No. Everything burns.

  “Cut it off!” I scream.

  Shayna reaches for a knife, elongating it with her power and manipulating it into a deadly sword. She lifts the blade above my spastic arm, her expression torn. By now I’m sobbing, and all but clawing at my face.

  “Please,” I beg her. “Cut it off!”

  “I can’t,” Shayna chokes out. “I can’t do this.”

  “Pin it,” Celia yells. “Pin it to the floor!”

  With a flick of her wrists Shayna changes the sword’s position and brings the point down toward my raging hand. I barely feel the prick before the room erupts in a ghostly light and Shayna goes flying.

  Emme screams as Shayna collides into the far wall. Aric and Celia are scrambling forward, but all thoughts are lost in my torture. I’m retching with how hard I’m crying and from the anguish crawling from my arm and into my chest.

  Just as the burn reaches my heart and I begin to lose consciousness, a pale yellow light surrounds me. Slowly, very slowly, the heat charring my insides is replaced with a soothing chill I welcome like a draw of fresh air.

  My body shudders as the coolness spreads like a cascade of water from a gentle spring. My pain eases and my cries dwindle. It takes a long time for the ache to lessen, and even longer for my vision to clear. But eventually it does.

  Not that I like what I see.

  Blood cakes the side of Shayna’s face. She winces as the bone along her eye socket pops out and the cut above her eyebrow knits close. Bile churns my gut. If Koda hadn’t passed her a portion of his werewolf essence, I would have killed her. There’s no doubt based on the amount of blood coating her skin, and what her body had to do to heal her indented skull.

  I cover my mouth. “Oh, my God,” I gasp.

  “It’s okay, T,” she says, as if I can’t see the pain tightening her small pixie face. “It’s okay.”

  No. Not at all, sweetie.

  Aric leans forward. Being a werewolf, and that of pure blood, his inner beast had healed him faster than Shayna. That didn’t mean I hadn’t made rubble out of his jaw or that hadn’t hurt him.

  Or that I won’t do it again.

  I had no control over my arm. None. Nor do I believe I have it now.

  Aric realizes as much. I don’t miss how he keeps Celia behind him, appearing to shield her and their child from whatever I’ll unleash next.

  “What happened?” he asks, his voice riddled with anger, and maybe something more.

  “I don’t know,” I respond, my voice trembling and my body strangely weak. “I felt pain and it-it went wild.”

  “Your arm?” It’s a question, but he’s not really asking.

  I nod as Emme’s healing light recedes and her hands withdraw from my shoulders. Her face is unusually pale. She swallows hard, struggling to speak. “It’s her fire,” she says, barely above a whisper. She looks at Aric. “It’s eating her alive . . .

  Chapter Two

  After a few phone calls (by Aric), lots of growls (collectively from the wolves), and plenty of swears (from me), I go from lying drenched in sweat on the kitchen floor, to drenched in sweat as I’m escorted out of the house and toward Koda’s ride.

  Aric and the wolves are transporting me to the nearest mystical healer. Emme kept me from burning to bits, but she can’t prevent what’s happening given that my fire is eating me alive!

  Who the hell says this shit?

  It hurts to admit that my power is doing anything and everything I can’t control. But to have it turn against me is the kick to the ovaries I hadn’t counted on. I curl inward remembering the pain along with the helplessness that came with it.

  “Do you want me to carry you?” Bren asks, keeping his voice low.

  I shake my head and gather my cardigan against me when the breeze sweeping in from Lake Tahoe picks up. It’s already spring and about sixty degrees. But even beneath the bright sun, I’m practically freezing despite the jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt I changed into, and the thick sweater draped around my body.

  Yet this chill beats that hideous burn and reminds me that, at least for now, I’m still alive.

  “I should go with you,” Emme says gently.

  Aric shakes his head in a way that halts her in place and keeps her from inching closer. When he’s certain she won’t move, he finishes typing the directions into her phone.

  “I want you with Shayna,” he tells her. “Give us a five-minute head start and then follow.” He lifts his gaze and addresses Shayna. “Stick to the speed limit, and stay outside the compound when you reach it. If you’re needed, the witches will summon you, and bring you to us.”

  “How will we know when we reach the compound if the wards protecting it make it invisible?” Shayna asks. She slides her hand down Koda’s long midnight hair to thread her fingers with his. It’s something she does when he’s angry and she’s trying to soothe him. And right now, hot Native American man is plenty pissed at yours truly.

  Koda’s thumb grazes over her knuckles answering her, all the while watching me like a ravenous wolf would a limp bunny. “The wards are strong enough to feel and warn you, baby,” he says. “Just listen to Aric and keep your distance.”

  She drops her hand away and whips around hard enough to flick her long dark ponytail. She starts to pace, only to stop abruptly, demonstrating her frustration. She’s n
ot happy, and neither is Emme. But when it comes to all things magic, the wolves know better than us, and we know better than to question their knowledge on all things supernatural and creepy. And given that this time, I’m the supernaturally creepy one, I keep my trap shut. At least for now.

  I want to flash my sisters an encouraging smile or that vixen grin they once knew so well. But I’m still trembling and weak. I’m not fooling anyone into thinking I’m fine.

  I climb into the middle row of seats in back of Koda’s Yukon when he tosses the keys to Aric, only for Bren to reach for my hand and pull me up. “Let’s sit in the third row, kid,” he tells me.

  He’s not really asking. My stare shifts outside where Aric leans on the front passenger side door, keeping Celia from climbing in. They want me as far away from her as possible.

  That’s awesome. Really.

  Koda is already in the rear waiting for me. Oh, and look, he’s glaring. I more or less slump beside him and snap my seatbelt in place, but it’s not until Bren lowers himself to my right that Celia is allowed in.

  I’ve always protected my sisters. Scratch that. We’ve always protected each other. I never thought I’d see the day where they would need protection from me.

  Aric starts the Yukon with a roar, attempting to zip past our elderly neighbor Mrs. Mancuso without incident. However, bitchy and drama-filled incidents typically surround my encounter with the old battle-axe so of course, she doesn’t offer a friendly nod our way, or God forbid pretend not to notice us. She’s been glaring at me since I stepped out of my house, waiting for the right time and the right way to acknowledge me. And she doesn’t disappoint.

  A stiff and angry middle finger waves as we pass. Mrs. Mancuso barely glances up from where she’s planting her impatiens, but her fury remains intense, her response quick, and her hand gestures ridiculously agile for someone whose neck skin flaps in the wind.

  “Don’t worry,” Bren mutters, stretching out against the seat. “She’ll fix you right up.”

  He’s not referring to Mrs. Mancuso. That doesn’t mean I like the “she” he’s speaking of.

  Thankfully, he doesn’t say “her” name. But anything with fangs, claws, and the ability to hex knows who she is. I’d like to say I’m on my way to see a doctor with distinct abilities, or maybe some kind of shaman who specializes in the “weird” that is my magic. But no, I’m headed to see Genevieve, the stunning woman who glides instead of walks, who dresses in formal maiden gowns, and who turns heads everywhere she “glides”. She’s better known to supernatural locals as the Lake Tahoe region’s head witch.

  I know her best as the head of the coven who tortured my sister, and the slut in Disney princess clothing who tried to steal my man. Do I like her? In a word, “no”. I hope she gets scabies.

  Aric, to his credit, didn’t freak-out and go all wolf on me following my arm turning psycho. Yet he also didn’t give me a choice. “I’m taking you to Genevieve. If anyone can help you, it’s her,” he said, making it clear there was no point in arguing.

  And trust me, I was ready to argue.

  My hand pushes aside my messy hair as the large SUV barrels down the highway. But I’m so anxious, I can’t keep still. Having singed off my gloves, I tug on the sleeve, trying my best to cover my hand. But those freaky white fingers and blue nail beds poke through, reminding me that I’m stuck with what I have.

  I don’t know if my limb was somehow angry or if it reacted to Celia’s presence. I don’t want it to be the latter. But if it is, I’d rather it burn me than hurt her. My sister has suffered enough. And maybe I have, too. But I don’t want anyone harmed as a result of what I’ve become.

  “So we’re going to the hag squad,” I mutter, the humiliation at having to swallow my pride trickling into my voice. I don’t think anyone can blame me. This is the same coven that regards me as a “thief” who steals magic from the earth and who, more than once, has tried to pick a fight with me and my family.

  “Yup,” Bren answers, not bothering with more. He knows I can’t stand them, and that the majority of the coven wouldn’t bat an eye if something big and scary put a hit on me.

  Speaking of big and scary. My stare lifts to meet Koda’s, but it’s brief. The last thing I want is his fuzzy side thinking I’m challenging him. Except for those moments when Shayna is near, Koda is about as cuddly as a Pitbull whose bone was snatched away. His body is angled to face me, glaring at my arm like it snatched said bone.

  Bren scratches at his scruffy beard, appearing relaxed. I know better given he’s eyeing my arm, waiting for it to go all Paranormal Activity.

  Bren, what can I say? This wolf has been more family than friend since the day we first met him. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t tear my arm off at the socket if he had to.

  Koda stiffens beside me as I adjust my hand beneath my sweater. Like Bren, he’s ready to “subdue” me. That was Aric’s word for it. But having werewolves subdue you is the equivalent of having what remains of your ass spit out beside your severed feet.

  “Problem?” he asks when I readjust my arm, his deep voice only one octave above a snarl.

  “No,” I say.

  His nose flares and so does Bren’s, trying to sniff out any lies I might be spewing. But I’m not lying, at least I don’t think I am. With this limb . . . who knows what will happen.

  The engine revs as the SUV accelerates up an incline and onto a small county road. Again, I push my hair away from my face, pausing when the perspiration along my brow moistens my fingers. Was it that long ago I used to be feared and not so afraid?

  Koda growls beside me when I try to hide my hand again. This time I do narrow my eyes at him. “Believe it or not, I’m not trying to hurt anyone.”

  “Maybe, but you still managed,” he reminds me.

  I straighten in my seat. Shayna had washed the blood from her face and changed her clothes before he arrived. Yet he still scented traces of blood lingering on her skin. It wasn’t anything anyone could see. But it was enough that he recognized his mate had been hurt, scared and had bled, and that I was the cause.

  “Fuck off, Koda,” Bren tells him, beating me to the punch. He keeps his tone light as he drapes an arm around me and pulls me closer, ready to act in my defense.

  Aric’s growls erupt from the front, despite the gentle squeeze he offers Celia’s hand. “I didn’t bring you two along to fight,” he snaps. “You’re here to ensure everyone stays safe.”

  Aric doesn’t flex his alpha-ness among his friends often, but when he does, anything in the general vicinity damn well listens.

  “You heard him,” Bren says, shooting Koda a smile that’s about as inviting as barbed wire. “Down, boy.”

  I’m not afraid of Koda—never mind, he scares me shitless. Especially the way he’s managing to snarl at Bren with his freaking eyes, a rare and impressive feat to his credit. But like Aric, I don’t want any trouble, especially around Celia.

  “Are you sure we shouldn’t see Makawee?” I ask, keeping my voice low because it’s easier to feign courage when you’re not yelling, and courage is something I could really use now. It’s not just Koda or how his beast appears so close to the surface that sends my heart beating out of control. It’s mainly due to my situation and life being so out of control.

  Aric being a were, and Celia, having the heightened senses her inner tigress provides, have no problem hearing me from the front. “Makawee will be away for the next few weeks,” he answers, making a left at a small intersection. “We can’t wait for her to return, and I’m not calling her back unless I have to.” He waits, then adds, “But even though were magic helped regenerate your arm, your power and that from the earth played a large role. For something like this, Genevieve’s our go-to in our Omega’s absence.”

  Okay, this more than sucks. At least Makawee likes me. Vieve . . . I’m not sure exactly what she thinks. But I can guess she and her buddies like me about as much as I like them. In my defense, I’ve never done anything to
harm them. Can’t say the same in return, or that I won’t attack if provoked. Hurt me once. Shame on you. Hurt those I love, I’ll char you to embers and make it look like an accident.

  “Where did Makawee go?” I ask, adjusting my weight against Bren.

  I think it’s an easy question. But he seems to take too long to answer. “Aric?” I press.

  “She’s on assignment in Colorado,” he responds.

  Celia’s long hair sweeps over her shoulder as she turns his way. Oh, yeah, he has our attention now. “What is she doing in Colorado?” she asks.

  He slows as he pulls onto a dirt road leading past an old farm. “Getting the house ready for you and the baby,” he answers quietly.

  Here’s the thing, when a baby in the supernatural world is expected, it’s not so different from that of the human world, even though the human world doesn’t realize the rest of us freaks exist. You pick out furniture. Paint the nursery. Play around with names. You even get a shower. But Celia is pregnant with the first child prophesized to tip the scales to the side of good and rid the world of an evil that has steadily risen since my sisters and I were “outed” to the mystical community.

  So no, Makawee the Pack Omega, with more magic in an eyelash than a clown car stuffed with witches, isn’t off preparing the baby’s room. If she’s gone for weeks, she’s reinforcing what will be the labor and delivery room, and the baby’s first home, with powerful protection spells.

  Celia’s hand begins to slip away from Aric’s, but he holds tight, lifting it to his lips for a brief kiss. “You’re safe, and so is our child,” he promises. “I’m only assuring it stays that way.”

  She tosses me a worried glance over her shoulder, whispering something I can’t hear, but Aric’s response tells me enough. “We’ll keep her safe. Don’t worry.”

  My pulse has steadily increased since the moment Emme’s healing light rescinded and I was “encouraged” to get into the SUV. Now it’s slowing to a steady thud that rams my chest like a hammer set on puncturing a nail through my sternum. Celia is pregnant. With everything she’s been through, the last thing she needs to worry about is me.