Of Flame and Light: A Weird Girls Novel

by Cecy Robson

  By now, I’m spitting mad, kicking hard and scrambling forward. In the movies, the hero would strike one massive blow and break free. That’s why movies are movies and my reality sucks big hairy rhinoceros balls.

  The next five minutes consist of me inching forward, and them hauling me back, until I rather unceremoniously fall out of the hole and down a small embankment. I lay on my side, exhausted, coughing and spitting out more dirt. Zombies, bless their little shriveling hearts, don’t need much rest, despite their limitations and nasty diet.

  They spill out of the hole, moaning excitedly when they see me.

  “Christ,” I mutter, pushing myself up on my arms.

  I almost keel over when I make it to my feet, raising my arm, instinctively ready to fire. They stop a few feet away, tilting their heads with confusion as they take in my arm and fail to see so much as a flicker of flame. One of them leaves the group, limping forward and poking me in the arm. She expects the equivalent of a Dura flame. They all do. And as much as I want to bring it, it fails to appear when I summon it from my core.

  I shake out my hand, trying to stir the power awake in my arm when I can’t rile it from within me. The female pokes me again, her motions growing insistent. I jolt when her finger snaps off and falls at my feet, the gruesome sight inciting my arm to rouse its fire.

  Like a match being struck, my arm is encapsulated with white and blue crackling flames. The zombies scramble forward, shoving each other to be the first to touch my arm. I lift it, my body trembling from my need to release the mounting power.

  I should light them up like torches. Yet despite my growing need to unleash my magic, I can’t bring myself to do it. As much as they scare me, they don’t mean to hurt me. They simply see me as a means to end their horrible existence. So I can’t just aim and release.

  My eyes scan my surroundings, my stare fixing on an old dry log. It’s huge, yet far down the embankment and away from the other trees. I turn in its direction, landing on my ass when my arm—not me—sends a funnel of white and blue into the log. It shatters like glass, my fire eating away at the bits of bark and drying leaves.

  And my, don’t the zombies lose their shit.

  They race away from me and to the fire, flinging themselves in. It’s a good thing, I tell myself, not that it’s any easier to watch. I shake out my hand, extinguishing what remains of my fire. It gives me an excuse to turn away. But their moans . . . oh, I can’t take it. I hurry down the ravine, searching for where it levels off so I can find my family.

  I grip a protruding root to help me balance when I see Shayna, covered in slop and chasing after what might be a liver.

  Chapter Nine

  Why, yes! That is a liver my sister is chasing, said no girl, ever.

  This whole thing should give me pause, and don’t get me wrong, it does. But the pause isn’t as long as it once would have been. With a sigh, I stomp forward, ignoring the sting to my shoulders.

  Shayna, in her quest to shred the liver to pieces, doesn’t see me, bringing her sword down as she chases after the rotating thing. It takes me a moment to realize where it’s headed. My fire. It senses my fire and is trying to head home.

  “Shayna—Shayna!”

  Instead of stopping, or turning around, she races further away. “Shayna?” I squeak before tearing after her.

  Low hanging branches skim along the top of my head. My heart is racing from the stress and lack of recovery time following my near-death in the dirt tunnel. That doesn’t mean I can slow down.

  “Shayna!”

  I’m running fast, but she’s faster and it doesn’t take me long to lose her. I can’t see her anywhere, but somehow she cuts around and we ram into each other.

  We fall backwards, landing on our asses. She blinks back at me, her blue eyes unusually cloudy. “Taran?” she asks, as if unsure it’s me.

  “Yes,” I answer crawling slowly toward her. “Are you all right?” I ask.

  Tears streak down her cheeks, making me rush to her and cup her face. “Shayna—Jesus, what happened to you?”

  “I can’t see anything very well except for the zombies. I woke up in the woods almost completely blind. It’s only when I started stabbing them that I could make some things out.” Her voice trails. “T, I don’t know what’s happening.”

  My fingertips carefully push away the strand of hair that escaped her ponytail. “This is spell, Shayna. Meant to mess with your mind. Savana wants you to see her zombies to scare you. It worked, didn’t it?”

  She nods slowly, only to jerk when the liver rolls to a stop in front of her. “Don’t,” I tell her when she tries to stab it. “It’s searching for my fire.”

  While she keeps what remains of her focus on the liver, her voice picks up a little. “You made fire?”

  “Yeah. The zombies, or whatever remains of them, are flinging themselves into it, trying to free themselves from Savana.”

  She points to the liver with the tip of her sword. “So then why is this thing rolling around?”

  I think about it. “Not to sound like a prick, but in its defense, it doesn’t have eyes.”

  “I’ll give you that,” she responds, grimacing.

  “Come on,” I say, taking her hand and pulling her up with me. “I say we find Savana and light her shit up.”

  She nods, allowing me to lead her forward. Like some twisted pet, the nasty and dirt-coated liver follows behind us.

  Son of a bitch. I don’t remember Superman having to deal with this shit.

  I’m not sure where to go until I see more billowing smoke overtake the sky. “Damn it.”

  “What’s wrong?” Shayna asks, tightening her grip on her sword.

  “It’s Savana. I think she knows we’re free and is casting another spell.”

  There is no grace to our steps as I drag Shayna along, and as we reach the edge of the woods, I yank her to the ground.

  The liver proceeds ahead, the zombie it belongs to bending forward to lift it and shove it back into his cavernous torso. I barely see him, too busy gaping at the woman with long blonde hair and narrow face storming forward.

  Based on the photo we were given, I recognize her as Savana. She’s pretty, stunning even. But there’s nothing beautiful about what she does or what she holds in her hand.

  She lifts her staff. It’s gold in color, but instead of housing a stone, a small skull is fixed to the center. She brings it down hard on a zombie tending to the fire.

  I cringe at the sound of crunching bone when the zombie’s head caves inward. The poor thing falls at Savana’s feet, her spikey ice blonde hair smearing with black blood. She cowers, curling inward and moaning like she’s crying.

  My hand twitches and heat singes my core. “Taran . . .” Shayna begins. “I can feel your fire.”

  Instead of stopping, Savana lifts her staff again and brings it down on the zombie’s back, making her howl in agony.

  Again Savana strikes. The zombie shrivels inward, covering her head as another blow cracks her skull.

  “Taran,” Shayna warns. “It’s building.”

  She doesn’t know what’s happening, but it’s too late to explain. My arm darts out, a funnel of blue and white streaming forward. It just misses Savana, colliding into her house and erupting it in a giant fireball. The force of blast resonates in a massive heat wave, pitching us back. I fall on my injured shoulder, ignoring the jolts of pain and leaping to my feet.

  Once more, my fury gave my residual magic all the power it needed. I race onto the beach of drying bones, the small hairs on my arms and neck raised from the hot, electrified air. My fire hadn’t been the only power to stir. Currents of charged energy course from my core, sending bolts of lightning spilling from my fingertips.

  I’m determined to end this bitch but the collection of skeletons littering the beach slow my pace, altering my steps to resemble quick stumbles forward. Savana rises, pushing aside the pieces of smoldering house covering her.

  Rage darkens her eyes
as she watches her zombies pitch themselves into the burning house. Yet when only mere feet separate us, she looks at me and smiles.

  “Leone!” she screams.

  The earth trembles. Cracks web along the soil, out and around Savana, the force of the shaking ground sending me sprawling on my knees. My hands strike the ground, knocking out the charge of lightning as five giant gray lions break through the earth and attack.

  Bren, in his brown wolf form appears behind the first lion, taking him down before he can touch me. But he’s only one wolf and there are more of them than there are of us. I fling my right arm over my face to shield me. A lion bites down on it, his red glowing eyes widening when I scream in agony.

  My lightning releases along my arm, electrocuting his maw and charring his face. He releases me, swiping his claws across my back when I try to veer around and escape. My skin tears open in red-hot agony and warm fluid soaks my shirt. I curl into a ball as the sting in my back is replaced by that familiar burn from my core.

  I can’t see anything in this position, but I feel a great deal: the weight of the beast on my back and his body falling away from me in charred chunks. I crawl forward and rise, my vision sharpened by the amount of magic coursing through me as fire engulfs my form. I should draw it back, save the energy this much flame is leeching. But I can’t control it, my arm is appearing to take over.

  Flames surround me, refusing to let go. Through the smoke I make out Shayna.

  Her eyes ram shut as she uses her senses to take on the lion circling her. “He’s behind you!” I scream, rushing forward.

  “I know,” she answers.

  She whirls in a circle, driving her sword into the lion’s chest when it leaps. Her feet press into his stomach as she falls onto her back, allowing his weight to impale the lion while using her legs to keep him from crushing her. The lion flails, clawing at the air.

  “T, go!” Shayna yells. “Find Emme.”

  But Emme is already here. A lion jets over my head like a rocket, smashing into what remains of the house as more zombies pour out from the woods to hurtle themselves toward their freedom. Emme leads a cluster of small zombie children, the smallest one holding her hand. She’s covered in blood, her nose is bleeding, and scratches litter her dirty face.

  I stagger toward her, my body horribly weak and my soul aching to see her like this. Another lion appears, rushing her. But like I mentioned, Bren is protective and no way in hell will he let that beast hurt Emme.

  Bren tackles him. Rolling along the beach with him as they fight. Emme urges the zombie children forward, her tears spilling like raindrops as they hurry toward the fire. Their hands reach out as if embracing a loved one, despite the agony the flame appears to cause them.

  Emme leans forward, placing her hands on her knees to keep from pitching to the ground. “Taran, you have to get Savana,” she calls to me, the fatigue in her voice as evident as the blood coating her face.

  I compel my feet to move to where I feel Savana’s dwindling pull. But this fire won’t leave me, the energy it’s taking from me making every move forward as arduous as treading through wet cement.

  I round the giant inferno that used to be the house. The flames surrounding me withdraw, only to resume along my arm in an odd mix of charged lightning and fire.

  “Behave,” I beg my arm, recognizing how badly it’s clashing with my magic then.

  I catch site of Savana, standing on a makeshift raft with a sole zombie woman in long brown dress beside her. The zombie digs a long pole into the water, using it to maneuver them across the lake and toward the opposite shore. She sobs openly, crying in that mournful way.

  With all the energy I have left I call forth my fire from my core. Instead of increasing my fire and withdrawing my lightning, the flames extinguish, leaving only the building energy of lightning. I jolt when a small wave of water touches my foot and reverts the charge back to me.

  “Son of bitch,” I mutter, glancing between me and the mere yards that separate me from Savana.

  I give up trying to manipulate the magic from within my core and lift my arm, focusing on the skin and ignoring the bind containing its temper. “Burn,” I tell it. “I need you to burn.”

  To my total shock, fire ribbons around it. I take a breath and point. But as I fire, another small wave of water splashes at my feet and my flame morphs back to lightning.

  Electrified energy zaps every last cell in my body, rattling my teeth as a blue and white bolt of lightning stream in a rush toward Savana. It misses her and crashes into the water. She lifts her staff, vanishing in a funnel of gray smoke as I soar into the air.

  ~ * ~

  Gentle yellow light flickers across my lids, coaxing me awake. I’m in the damn woods. Again. I’m not sure how long I’ve been out, but it couldn’t have been too long seeing how the fire eating away at the house continues to rage.

  Bren watches me in his human form as he tugs on his jeans. “Fuckin’ A Taran. That was some heavy shit.”

  Emme shakes her head as she drops her hands away from my face. My head is cradled against her lap, but I’m not exactly comfortable seeing how there’s a shard of bone sticking me in the ass.

  “You shouldn’t have risked your life that way,” she tells me as I lift off her. “When I found you, your heart was beating in irregular spurts.”

  Shayna drives her sword into the dirt beside me. Her eyes, mercifully clear again. “Yeah, T,” she agrees. “What you did was the equivalent of getting shocked by a defibrillator.”

  I stand, wishing I didn’t have to. “It wasn’t on purpose,” I confess. “My lightning and fire were switching back and forth.”

  Bren frowns. “I thought you had it under control. You seemed to when you were fighting.”

  I shake my head, wishing it didn’t feel so heavy. “No. Most of it was luck, at best.”

  Bren pulls the T-shirt out of the backpack Emme had left on the rowboat. It’s then I notice the gash from his navel to his throat.

  “Bren!” I say gasping. “What the hell happened to you?”

  He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I catch the traces of his lingering anger. “Savana saw me as the strongest and thought I’d make a great sacrifice. Woke up in human form shackled to a table.”

  My eyes widen at the burn marks on his wrists. She must have bound him in cursed gold, the supernatural equivalent of kryptonite.

  “To raise more zombies?” Shayna asks, her typically friendly tone clipped as she takes in Bren’s blazing red gash.

  “That’s my guess,” he says, glancing back at the burning house. “The bigger the sacrifice, the more bang for the buck when you’re raising the dead.”

  “Is this common?” Emme asks, glancing around at the cluster of bones littering the beach.

  “No,” Bren thankfully admits. “I never heard of witch who could raise the dead like this. Usually, it’s one or two zombies at best—sometimes an army for battle, but that’s rare and something most witches can only manage for a handful of hours. But this . . .” He shakes his head. “If I had to wager a bet, I’d say her other magic was perceived as weak because her skill at necromancy overshadowed it, making it appear abysmal in comparison.”

  “Okay,” Emme says softly. Like the rest of us she seems relieved, but more than a little troubled. She moves slowly toward Bren, placing her palms over his chest. “It’s a bad cut. Let me help you heal,” she offers gently.

  He covers her hands, lifting them off him and putting some space between them. “I’ve got it,” he says in a low growl that takes us all aback.

  “Bren,” she begins, sounding confused.

  He whips around as if shocked by his own response. “Didn’t you say you woke up at the bottom of a well to those zombie kids pelting you with rocks?” he asks tightly.

  Her eyes rounded. “They didn’t want to hurt me,” she insists. “They were being forced, just like the rest.”

  “I know that. But they still busted up your face,” he sna
ps. “The power you used to heal you and Taran alone—not to mention all the shit you had to do to get out of the damn well was more than you’re used to. Save your strength, my wolf’s got this.”

  I cross my arms, ready to argue and remind him that Emme’s used more power than this in the past. But his hesitation to let her draw too near is odd and stops me. He’s never been afraid to let any female touch him. Why is he acting like he needs to stay away from her?

  “Bren,” I finally say. “Just let her help you—”

  “No,” he snarls, meeting her stare. “She’s already been through enough.”

  He stomps away, leaving us standing there. “The hell?” I say.

  Shayna rubs my back. “His wolf’s just cranky, T,” she reasons. “Can you blame him after what Savana put him through? Come on, let’s head back to the Jeep, peeps. We have to call our weres and give them the lowdown on Savana so they can break it to the witches that she’s more hell cat than helpless kitten.” Sympathy replaces the exhaustion along her small features. “You’ll have to go to Genevieve,” she adds.

  “I know,” I say, biting the words out. No matter how hard I tried, and regardless of everything we endured, it doesn’t matter. I’m still obliged to bend to Vieve’s will.

  “Maybe Aric can talk her, again,” Emme says, her focus skimming toward Bren as we make our way across the skull beach. “I mean, this wasn’t exactly a fair test. No one could have predicted what Savana was capable of. Maybe there’s another way you can prove yourself.”

  “I wish that were true, Emme,” I say. “But bottom line, I had no control. And even if I did, I didn’t complete the task as per our agreement. No way is Vieve going to let me out of this.”

  I tilt my head when I see that zombie Savana was beating with her staff sitting on a rock and staring at the flaming house. “What’s she doing?” I ask.

  “I don’t know, dude,” Shayna says. “She’s been there for a while now. I think she’s afraid to jump into the fire.” She grimaces. “It frees them, yeah, but it hurts them, too. Did you hear them? They were in pain.”