He took two steps toward me, halting when I instinctively shifted back. His eyes were pained.
“Leila what’s going on? Are you okay? You haven’t been to school, you haven’t been answering my calls. I’ve been worried sick about you.”
I would have sobbed. The old Leila would have cried. With happiness that he cared about me. And ran into his arms. But this was not the old Leila. This Leila was a telesā. Who could fry the love of her life to a crisp. And make the earth open up to swallow his green truck. No, I was not the same Leila, and the sooner Daniel realized it, the better.
“Daniel, you shouldn’t be here. I’m fine, really I am. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve been a bit sick, but it’s no big deal and I should be back at school next week. You should go. I’m sure you have lots of stuff to do at the workshop.”
I tried to smile. Casually. But he wasn’t going to make this easy for me. Shaking his head, he took the remaining steps that separated us. I backed up again until I felt the wall behind me. He had me cornered. He put an arm on each shoulder, trying to look me in the eyes while I stared away.
“Leila don’t do this. What happened the other night, we need to talk about it. I need to know if you’re alright. I need to know what’s going on. Don’t shut me out like this.”
With fingers on my chin, he gently raised my face to his, his emerald-chipped eyes unwilling to let me hide.
I felt the heat of his skin on mine. I remembered what it felt like to drown in his kiss and it gave me the cold strength I needed. I leaned both hands against his chest and pushed him away firmly. “Daniel, this is ridiculous. What makes you think you can come in here and make me talk to you when I don’t want to? I’m not like one of your puppy dog rugby players ready to run and ruck whenever you tell them to. I have nothing to say to you. I want you to leave.”
I turned to go back up the stairs before the tears came. His hand caught me softly. “Nothing Leila? Do you really have nothing to say to me?”
I took a deep breath before rushing on. “Actually I do have something I want to say.” I faced him full on, composing my features in the blandest expression possible. “You’re a really nice guy, but, I’m sorry, I don’t think we should hang out any more. We both have … stuff going on, and it would be better if we just stopped this before someone got hurt. I mean, you told me so yourself, you’ve got plans and I don’t want to get in the way of that. And me, now’s not really a good time for me. I need to be spending time with my mother so she can help me with my … my problem. That’s the most important thing right now.”
The air was heavy and full when I stopped.
“That’s all you’re going to say about the other night? About what happened? That’s it?!” His voice was low and edged.
“Yes. That’s it. We both know that I’ve got a problem and I need help to fix it. I’m really glad that you helped me the other night and I would really appreciate it if you could keep it secret. I’m working on doing something about it.”
He looked exasperated. “Leila, I’m not talking about you bursting into flames! I’m talking about you and me. Us. Our friendship. We kissed. I’m talking about what’s going on between you and me. Don’t tell me to just forget about us.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. There is no us. We aren’t an ‘us’. You’re not my type. It’s impossible. And it’s the last thing I want right now so would you please just leave? Before I ask Netta to call the police or something?!” My voice rose to a semi-hysterical shriek as I felt the now-familiar prickle of heat creeping up my spine. The fire was coming and I didn’t want him to be anywhere near me. “Just get out okay. Go away!”
Without waiting for a reply, I pushed past him and ran out into the garden. He watched me go, with defeat in his stance. I ran blindly over the grass and into the forest trees, pushing through branches, ignoring their scratching, cutting grab. I ran and, as I did, the fire came. Pulsing like the adrenaline through my veins. Trampling through my insides, ripping through my pitiful defenses. With Daniel’s shocked, pained expression in my mind, I collapsed to my knees and let the fire out. I prayed that I was far enough away from the house that Daniel wouldn’t hear my anguished scream of pain. Or see the pillar of fiery smoke that seared the sky.
I had been dreading the return of the fire, hoping and praying every day that I wouldn’t explode. And yet, as I stood there in green forest and burned, I felt better than I had all week. Nothing seemed to matter much anymore. Maybe because when you’re standing in the middle of an inferno, things like a broken heart seemed kind of trivial. Or maybe it was because when I was on fire, I technically didn’t have a heart anymore. I felt free. Unchained. Released. Unstoppable. That day in the forest after Daniel left was very liberating. I was alone in a forest that for miles around had no-one in it. There was no-one to hurt. To burn up. No-one to hear me. No-one to see me. No-one with a heart to break.
It was with wondrous awe that I stood and let the flames ripple over me. Then I started running, and what a rush that was. I could train for years and never run as fast or as powerfully as I could when I was on fire. My power seemed to give added speed to my feet, they literally skimmed above the ground. I don’t know how long I ran like that, running like lightning through green trees, making sure to take all my fire with me. I was beginning to be aware of the flames. Where they ended, where every spark and cinder landed. Aware enough that I mentally collected them as I ran, unwilling for any errant spark to set the forest ablaze. I only stopped my wild rush when I came to a pool. Not as beautiful as our pool. Me and Daniel’s pool. But similar enough to make me to pause and catch my hot breath. Daniel, where are you now? What are you feeling now? What do you think of me now? But no, I must not allow myself to think of him. He did not belong to my world now. I must remove any piece of him from my thoughts. Scourging them, burning them like a cauterized wound. I gave myself over to more experimenting, playing with my powers. Kneeling, I dipped my hand into the water. It felt cool. Could I change that, I wondered? Eyes glinting, I stilled my hand and focused, breathing deeply. The water started to churn and steam rose to fill the clearing. I laughed. Coldly. Ha. I barely had to even exert myself at all to do this. This was baby stuff! The pool began to boil, bubbling up and over its rocky circle. I laughed some more. Until the fish floated with the bubbles. Dead. And baby crayfish. Dead. Abruptly, I jerked my hand away. Death, is that all I would be capable of causing with this power? Would any good come from it?
Tears flowed. But they were useless and I was tired of wasting my time on them. I ran on through the forest. And as I ran, I danced. Delighting in the fiery patterns my hands drew in the air. If nothing else, I was beautiful. In the fire, I was beautiful. And I would need no-one. Not even a boy called Daniel with laughing, green eyes.
EIGHT
When night fell, I crept back home. Tired and spent. I had run for miles. But at least I was too exhausted to cry myself to sleep. My mother did not bother to even ask me about Daniel’s visit. Netta had probably briefed her. She merely mixed me an extra dose of the medicine I needed. Which I drank without hope. I didn’t believe it could really do anything for me anymore. And if I didn’t have Daniel, I didn’t care what happened now.
She regarded me quietly over breakfast the next morning. My black-circled eyes. The lank unbrushed hair. She wrinkled her nose at me. “Leila, this has to stop. This infatuation for a boy has got you completely in disarray. I’ve given you time to sort yourself out, but I think this moping has gone on long enough.”
I stared at her dully. She forged on. “You must realize that these emotions you are experiencing, they are but childish things. Once your power fully matures, you won’t be plagued with such trivialities. You will understand better our world and your place in it. It may be difficult to accept now, but trust me when I tell you that in a few short months, your feelings for that boy, they will be but a brief memory. You must embrace who you are and unchain yourself from all transient things. Men
– all men, are unnecessary. Amusing, yes. And some even likeable. But they cannot even begin to comprehend what we are and what we are capable of. You must start practicing now to be less easily swayed by them.”
Her eyes contained nothing but kindness. She truly did believe what she was saying. And the jagged pieces of my heart longed to believe her. I didn’t want to love Daniel. I didn’t want to hurt like this. Like I could never laugh again. My dad had died and left me incomplete. Daniel had not only filled that void – he had carved a whole new world in mine. One where joy lived. And contentment. Completeness. How could I forget that?
I sat at the breakfast table and cried. Instead of hugs and empty platitudes, my mother took me outside. “Come, I think it’s time we began your training.”
So that was how my first day of learning to be a telesā started. We stood under a blue sky and she made me kneel. “Place your hands on the earth. Shut your eyes. I want you to tell me what you feel. What you can hear. What you can see.”
Because I was past feeling, I didn’t feel ridiculous. Instead, I listened. And beneath my fingers, I felt it. I heard it. A humming. Like breathing. Like a heartbeat. Like a being.
My eyes flew open and I jumped back. “What is that?!”
Her voice was triumphant. “It’s fanua. Earth. She hears you. She speaks to you. She has waited a long time for you. And she rejoices at your return, your awakening to your gifts. Now, let us see if we can tame this fire of yours.”
I hated to admit it, but Nafanua was a good teacher. But then I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised. She had been teaching telesā for decades. She was patient but firm. I had to start by calling the fire into the palm of my hand – without exploding. It was frustratingly difficult. The rush of heat that came in answer to my thoughts didn’t want to be tamed. It didn’t want to only speak through a single fingertip. It wanted to rage and burn and tear up the air, combusting every molecule of oxygen it could find. Nafanua asked for a single flame from my hands and I could only set my whole body alight, destroying yet another set of clothes.
“No, Leila not like that. Turn it off and try again.”
“I can’t.” I whined, feeling like a mistreated toddler. “It’s impossible!”
“No, it’s not. You must speak to it softly, but with strength. You must learn to summon your gift with strength and NOT with anger or temper. Otherwise, the fire will always control you. Now, call it again.”
I stopped wearing clothes to our lessons. What was the point? I came in a lavalava and let it go when the surge of flames came. A week of practicing and still I had come no closer to any kind of control. If anything, the fire seemed to get angrier as the week progressed, as I got more frustrated with myself. And my teacher. The one thing I was happy about was that my lessons went a long way to distracting my mind from its torment over Daniel. Because, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t vanquish my feelings for him. At day’s end, tired and sweaty, with burn circles on the lawn, I would tramp heavily upstairs for a shower and bed. Tired but not tired enough to sleep without dreaming. Of auburn-edged hair and dancing eyes. A crooked smile. A scar-flecked eyebrow. Sweat trickling down a tattooed bicep. I cried a lot. Silently. Unwilling for Nafanua to detect that I was still not over my ‘childish things’ so unbecoming of a telesā.
The lessons were hard but I poured my soul into them. I desperately wanted them to work. Because then if I could control the fire, I was one step closer to getting rid of it entirely. If I could tell it what to do – then surely I could tell it to go away and never come back?
The week drew into two and then three. I could call the fire now, as easily as flipping a light switch. I didn’t need to get angry or emotional for the burn to start. Now, I reached out with my mind and felt for the raw ingredients that needed to mingle and combine for fire to live. It was scientific. For all Nafanua’s spouting on about earth and nature, summoning fire was like a chemical reaction ignited by my thoughts. There was my favorite – oxygen molecules. They were delightful little things that rushed into my lungs with every breath. Adhering to red blood cells, best friends. All they needed was a spark to burst into happy celebration. The party would start in my blood then bubble out like champagne in a victory dance. It would then draw on more O2 in the air around me and everyone would join in, ejecting CO2 as we partied on. My fire was all about energy. Energy that started with me then multiplied as it mingled with the energy all around me. In the air. Even the earth beneath my feet. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend the energy store in the ground that could theoretically fuel my fire. It was still unpredictable though. If I didn’t get enough sleep. Or even if I didn’t eat regularly. Then I couldn’t guarantee that flashes of fire wouldn’t rip from my hands, my eyes, at the most unexpected of moments. I couldn’t go anywhere. Nafanua made sure no-one but her and Netta were ever at the house.
My days were fire lessons with Nafanua. The nights were on the internet, poring over chemical equations and science websites. I still couldn’t ‘see’ the sense of me. I was the catalyst that set the equation in motion. And where the spark came from confounded me. But the rest of it – the fire I could breathe. And throw. The fire I could wrap around trees and ripple along the grass. It all made sense, chemically. Nafanua thought I was wasting my time on fripperies.
“Why seek a Western explanation for it? You will not find it in their limited understanding of life and creation. Your fire is from earth. From Pele. From the mother of us all. You are telesā. What more do you need to know?”
But still I persisted. I had never been fond of mysteries. And I didn’t like being one. I even began exploring Nafanua’s gift. If lightning was a giant spark of electricity – that meant it was energy. Jumping between clouds. But energy nevertheless. So, theoretically, it was energy that I could harness. Capture for myself and convert to fire? I asked Nafanua to hit me with bolts of her gift when I was aflame. She was unwilling. But interested too in the results. We made a strange sight there on the lawn that day. Like two gunslingers in a western movie showdown. I made the first move. Taking off my lavalava to stand naked in the sunlight for a brief moment before exploding into my jeweled conflagration. I had grown to love that feeling, the pleasure out-ruling the pain as heat surged through me.
Then Nafanua made her move. A flick of her wrist and the giant zigzag spark leapt from the sky. A thirty-million volt charge of pure electricity – enough to light a small town for several months. I focused. On widening my chemical reaction. Converting energy into fire. All energy. I was afraid but determined. I told myself that if my experiment failed and I was fried to a black crisp – then at least that solved my problem of being in love with a boy I could never have.
The lightning strike knocked me back about fifty meters. Smashing me into trees and winding me. But though I ached everywhere from the impact, the actual lightning hadn’t hurt. I was jubilant. The days melted into a pattern. Every morning we would practice. After lunch Nafanua would leave for work, usually returning late in the evening. The afternoons I would spend carrying out my own little experiments. Seeking the limits of my fire. Making little volcanoes in the back yard. That had Netta pursing her lips in disapproval as she tried to do her gardening. I would always remember the first time I summoned the fire and it came gently. Without setting my whole being alight. Without pain. When it was but a light ripple of flame that swayed in the palm of my hand, dancing over my fingertips. I was in awe. I had dropped my lavalava before I called the fire, sure that it would again erupt everywhere. Yet here it was, just a little light in my hands. I stood there naked in the afternoon sunlight and cried, cupping the flame in my fingers. Sinking to my knees in the grass, I wept tears of relief. Of gratitude. Yes, thank you! I could control the fire. I could make it do what I wanted. I didn’t have to be a killer. This was the first indication that I could walk among regular people again. Without setting them all ablaze at the slightest mild annoyance.
That night was a happy one at Nafanua’s h
ouse as she joined in my elation.
“Netta, see what my daughter can do. Finally, she is becoming what she was destined to be, a daughter of the earth. Leila, tonight we will go out. We will celebrate!”
We laughed together and I felt a little of the cloud of despair rise. Just a smidgeon. I hardly dared to engage that whisper of hope. If I could control the flames, then maybe, just maybe I could go back to school? I could see Daniel? Not go too near him, no, I wouldn’t risk that, but at least see him? Hear his voice without the need of any voicemail recorder? When Nafanua brought me an outfit to wear for our celebration, I put it on eagerly. I hadn’t left this place for three weeks now. The thought of going somewhere, anywhere, was dizzying. The dress she brought me was like nothing I had ever worn before, but I doubted jeans and a t-shirt would pass muster for our outing. Netta came to help me with my hair at Nafanua’s bidding. I tried to refuse – I wasn’t a child who needed help with her hair! But, as always, Netta spoke few words and did exactly what she pleased. Expertly, she worked her way through the tangled mass that was my neglected hair, coiling it up into a graceful swirl. A fuchsia bloom completed the ensemble. A glance in the mirror had me gasping. That wasn’t me. It couldn’t be. I hadn’t looked at my reflection since that nightmarish first morning.
Telesa - The Covenant Keeper Page 28
