Kiss Of Fire (Imdalind Series)

by Ethington, Rebecca

  Oh, bother.

  “Wasn’t that so beautiful?”

  “Not really.”

  She looked at me like I had skinned her cat.

  “But, I don’t get into this stuff, Wyn,” I amended to make her feel a bit better.

  “But it was funny, and scary and gory, and romantic. It had something for everyone!”

  I chose not to reply to her; the whole movie was just silly.

  “What kind of movies do you like, then?” she asked in slight frustration.

  “Sci-fi, super-hero, action, and spy movies.” I rattled off, knowing full well I had just listed all of Ryland’s favorites. If she had asked me what my favorite video game was, however, I could have spouted off half-a-dozen racing games that I knew I enjoyed on my own. Ryland didn’t like to lose.

  “Super-heroes?” she said.

  “Yes! They are brave and fight bad guys, and tend to look very nice,” I said, fighting the blush that was rising to my cheeks.

  “A woman after my own heart,” Ilyan said as he fell back into his chair. “Which one is your favorite? I’m a Superman fan, personally.”

  “Iron Man.”

  “Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Robert Downey, Junior fan, or is it the comic books you prefer.”

  “Ugh. You don’t read comic books do you?” Wyn grumbled, sounding disgusted, but a smile still managed to creep onto her face.

  “No,” I said. Although Ryland had quite a collection, I had never touched them. “And, I don’t think it’s a Robert Downey, Junior thing. I think it’s just the fact that he takes something difficult and something that could destroy him, and makes it into something amazing.”

  Ilyan looked at me with something akin to reverence, while Wyn stared me down with a knowing glance.

  “It doesn’t have to define you, you know.”

  I flushed at Wyn’s comment, looking from brother to sister in panic. She had promised she wouldn’t talk about the mark again. Luckily, Ilyan looked confused and had no idea what Wyn was referring too.

  “Wyn,” I begged, my heart thudding, “please don’t.”

  Wyn huffed and sat back on the couch.

  “Do I even want to ask?” Ilyan said.

  “No.” I buried my head in the sleeves of Ryland’s sweater. Thankfully, the doorbell rang and Ilyan left to get the Chinese food.

  “Wyn,” I rounded on her the second Ilyan’s footsteps left the room, “please don’t bring this up. You promised.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said stubbornly, spinning her plastic bracelets.

  “Kung pow beef, anyone?” Ilyan said, handing out white containers.

  I opened my box of Mongolian Beef and dug in; it smelled and tasted so good. Wyn kept switching from staring at me to eating her food. Ilyan looked between us before flipping on another movie. I laughed out loud when he turned on “Iron Man 2”. Ilyan winked at me before turning back to his food.

  “Ugh, really Ilyan? You’re going to make me sit through this?” Wyn whined.

  “Well, we could talk, but you seemed quite content to be angry and stare off into space.”

  Wyn glared at him and went back to her food.

  “I apologize for my sister,” Ilyan began with an oddly regal air. “She can be quite stubborn at times.”

  Wyn sighed deeper at him. I laughed at her; she seemed irritated by him, and that alone was quite entertaining.

  “So, Ilyan. Where do you get your accent from?”

  He raised an eyebrow at me in obvious confusion.

  “Seeing as Wyn doesn’t have one... It’s just odd. That’s all.”

  “Oh!” Ilyan chimed, realization dawning on his face. “I lived in Prague for quite a few years before our father died. I left so I could help raise my sister.” While he didn’t sound sad because of the situation, there was something else in his voice that made the entire thing sound practiced.

  “Wow. Prague. That must have been amazing.”

  Ilyan opened his mouth to respond, but Wyn’s sharp tongue cut him off. “Don’t let him fool you it was all party-party, very little work.”

  “Work?” I questioned. “You must be quite a bit older than Wyn to have lived and worked there.” I thought I had stated something obvious, but Wyn giggled like I had given a lead-in to some inside joke.

  “Not really,” Wyn provided. “His mother still lives there. Our dad just got around a lot.”

  “I was born in Prague in the ‘80s.”

  “So, still too old for you,” Wyn taunted.

  My head snapped to Ilyan who winked at me again.

  “Oh! I didn’t mean it like that!” I said, embarrassment creeping into my face.

  “Neither did I, Joclyn,” Ilyan said. “Don’t worry so much.”

  I ducked back down to my Mongolian beef and tried to focus on the movie, even though I had seen it a million times. It was still one of my favorites.

  “You need to be nice to her, Ilyan; she’s my friend, and if you scare her away, I’ll never forgive you.”

  “Fine, fine,” he said “Nezȁleží na tȍm, onȇ bude žít s tȁk brzy.” The words fell off his tongue like diamonds and pearls; I looked over at him, taken by the beautiful sound. It seemed familiar in my ears, even though I had no idea what language it was.

  “Ilyan,” Wyn pleaded.

  Ilyan stood before walking down the hall to the bathroom.

  “What language was that?”

  “Czech, it’s his home language.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I sighed. “Do you understand it?”

  “Enough to understand when he’s being rude,” Wyn said.

  I smiled and went back to the movie, sad that my food was almost gone. I would have to ask where they got this from; it was delicious. Ilyan returned a moment later, and I excused myself to the bathroom. The sun had gone down all the way now, and the first stars were beginning to twinkle from behind the frosted glass in the bathroom window. I sat down and grabbed the cell phone next to me without thinking. It wasn’t until I opened it that I realized, it wasn’t mine.

  The phone flicked to a text conversation. The name “Wynifred” covered the top of the screen above the thought bubbles of the conversation.

  I think we are wrong about him

  What do you mean?

  Well he says he wants nothing to do

  with it, but its more than that. He uses

  kouzlo on her all the time to calm

  her, help her, keep her safe. What

  I thought was her is really him, it’s

  the residual that he leaves behind to

  help her.

  Are you sure?

  100%

  Hovno. Ovailia se Nebude libit

  Don’t swear.

  Respect, Wynifred

  Sorry, My Lord.

  I looked at the last bit of conversation; it just didn’t make sense. My Lord? And who were they talking about? The whole thing was too much like something out of a Bourne movie. Besides, they didn’t seem the types to be involved in some sort of role-playing game. I reluctantly looked away from the screen at a soft knock on the door.

  “Joclyn,” Ilyan spoke through the bathroom door, “I left my phone in there. Can you bring it out with you please?”

  “Uh... yeah...” I answered washing my hands before opening the door to see him standing against the door frame. His long blonde hair hung straight and sleek around his face, his blue eyes sparkling. I was once again hit with the familiarity of them, like I had seen that exact color somewhere else.

  “Everything go okay in there?” he asked, hand outstretched.

  “Gross, Ilyan,” I chided and placed the phone in his hand.

  “Thanks.” He flipped the phone open to look at the screen before turning back to me with a smirk.

  A smirk like that would usually excite me and send my stomach swooping, but then again, a smirk like that was usually accompanied by Ryland. Coming from Ilyan, it made me curious; I fel
t like I needed to get to know him better. I shook the thought from my mind.

  Ilyan crossed his arms over his chest as he continued to stare into me. I couldn’t help but notice how nice his pastel dress shirt fit against him. He had a nice frame and the fabric clung to him in the right places. I could feel a blush rising to my cheeks so I ducked my head to look at my shoes, unsurprised to see Ilyan sporting another pair of ripped designer jeans. He must like the style.

  “Do I need to leave you and your shoes alone?” Ilyan asked with a deep chuckle.

  “No, I’m fine,” I retorted my head snapping up to meet his gaze.

  “Well then, are you ready to go home? It’s almost ten and I don’t want you to get in trouble with your mom.” He continued to lean against the door frame, trapping me in the bathroom.

  “Yeah, I guess I better.”

  “Good, I’ll go get my car.” he said before jogging down the hall.

  “Your brother is odd,” I announced as I sat down beside Wyn.

  “He’s an idiot; don’t let him fool you.” She continued to bird peck at her food, not looking at me.

  “Hey, Wyn,” I ventured; I hoped this didn’t give my spying away. “What does kouzlo mean?”

  Her head snapped up in alarm, and her food almost slipped out of her hand. So much for being discreet.

  “Where did you hear that word?” she said. I exhaled, probably better to lie, even though Ilyan would give me away eventually.

  “Just something Ilyan said to me in the hall.”

  She watched me, and I recognized the same look in her that I often had myself when I was talking about my dad. She was deciding how much of the truth to tell me.

  “It’s Czech,” she said. “It means charm.”

  I guess that made sense. “He was using his charm on her all the time”; it fit anyway.

  “Oh, that makes sense.”

  “What did he say to you?” Wyn asked, that same alarm lacing her voice.

  “It’s nothing. It was just an odd word, so I was wondering what it meant…” That seemed to pacify her, so I left it at that. But still. I knew that face; it gave me the nagging sensation that she wasn’t being entirely truthful. The sooner I got home and to a search engine, the better.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I had stayed up way too late last night trying to find the translation for “kouzlo” on the internet. The closest thing I found for a long time was “kozlo” which meant “goat”. Why someone would give someone a goat to protect them I didn’t know. I finally found the translation I was looking for, and it did say that “kouzlo” meant “charm”, but I still felt like Wyn was keeping something from me. After all, why would she have that reaction to the word charm?

  Due to my prolonged internet searching, I was nowhere near ready when my mom burst into my bedroom the next morning, fully dressed, breakfast in hand, ready for our full day of shopping. She set the breakfast down and danced out of the room saying she would wait for me in the living room.

  I ate my breakfast, Fruit Loops and toast, as I tried to wake up. I had finally gotten to sleep at 3 a.m. and now my mom had me up at 10 a.m. Seven hours should have been enough, but I still felt like I was dragging. I set my breakfast on the kitchen counter across from the bathroom, as I made my way to a nice, warm shower. The hot water did the trick and after a few minutes my body felt alive and energetic.

  I dressed in my red birthday shirt and my only pair of jeans that weren’t ripped before making my way to the mirror to figure out something to do with my hair. I slipped Ryland’s necklace over my head and slid it into its normal place under my shirt. I was reaching for my hairbrush when my eyes fell on the bright, purple bead. It looked so innocent just lying there on my dresser. I stared at it as something clicked in my mind. Kouzlo. Hadn’t my father used that word in his letter?

  I whipped around to look at the small wastebasket next to my dresser and cringed to see it empty, the letter long gone. My life was turning me into a lunatic. Crazy father, hopeless crushes, and bizarre foreign friends; no wonder I was losing it. I had made something out of nothing. I grabbed the bead and shoved it into my pocket before pulling my hair up in a half-ponytail, making sure to leave enough hair down to fall over my ears and cover the mark.

  I blotted on some lip gloss, blush and a little bit too much eye shadow before leaving the bedroom and declaring myself ready. My mom turned off the TV and turned to face me. She brought her hand to her mouth, her eyes glossing over. Great, she was going to be crying all day.

  “Mom,” I said. I already felt out of place – I didn’t need to be cried over.

  “Oh, honey,” she said, “you are so pretty.”

  Her arms encompassed me in a big motherly hug; I could feel her body shake just a little bit as she leaked out tears of joy. I returned the hug, my arms hanging awkwardly on her back.

  “Thank you,” she whispered in my ear before pushing me away from her. “Forgive your blubbering mom, will you? I’m just a little bit excited to show off my beautiful daughter.” She smiled before grabbing my hand and dragging me out the door.

  We drove straight to the biggest mall in the city and wandered first into one of the few main department stores, much to my disappointment; I always enjoyed the smaller boutiques more. She led me straight to the misses department and began loading me up with graphic T-shirts and peasant tops. It was then that I realized what this trip was. I had been trapped in Dress-Up-Your-Daughter Day. I groaned, but hoped that I could finagle at least one pair of jeans out of her.

  After I came out in my first shirt, I began to wonder if my mom was going to be able to turn off the waterworks at all today. She gushed at me in a bright, blue T-shirt emblazoned with Hello Kitty in camo gear on the front. Not the shirt that would be one to induce tears. I ran back into the dressing room and ripped the shirt off. It was cute, but I would never forget her crying over Hello Kitty-Goes-Army.

  “Mom,” I begged from behind the door, “you can’t cry over everything I put on, please?”

  “I know,” her sniffles breaking her voice a bit. “It’s just… I have always waited for this day...”

  “Mom..,” I pleaded.

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  I tried to ignore her and picked out my next shirt. I could hear her rummaging through her purse in the search for tissues.

  “Oh! I almost forgot, Ryland sent this for you.” Her hand appeared above the door holding a small envelope.

  I finished putting on an embellished tank top before reaching up to take the envelope from her. I ripped it open, trying to ignore the flip of my insides. A VISA gift card was inside; a small slip of heavy-weight paper rested against it. The paper that the card was attached to announced that there was an available balance of $1,000. Leave it to Ry.

  Please, ignore that this is a large amount of money.

  I want to spoil you. Buy yourself a pair of pants (or two!) and at least one hoodie.

  See you tonight ♥

  I shouldn’t have smiled, but I did anyway; I couldn’t help it. As a result, I exited the dressing room grinning like a madman. My mom took that to mean that I liked the shirt, and I just let her think that. It was a nice shirt, and I wasn’t in the mood for a “stay away from Ryland” lecture.

  I was pushed from dressing room to dressing room as my mom shoved shirts, pants and even skirts and dresses in my direction. I took it all in stride; what else could I do? She was so happy, and seeing her smile was addicting. I paid for most of our purchases with Ryland’s card, ignoring my mom’s prying to find out how much he had given me; probably the equivalent of a week’s salary, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. She would freak out.

  We came out of the last store before our lunch break laden with bags of shirts, dresses, skirts, pants and jewelry. Mom made out with more than enough to compliment her stingy wardrobe, and I had even convinced her to buy shoes that didn’t have non-slip soles. I had purchased more pants than I had ever owned before. We sat down to food co
urt pizza and soda, setting all the bags to the side of us.

  “How’s school?” Mom barraged into her monthly question-and-answer session. One of the joys of having a mother who worked so often I never saw her, every once in a while she would start in on the standard twenty questions. It drove me crazy.

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Did anyone say anything when you showed up without a sweater on?” She was eager, making me feel bad for deceiving her.

  “Not really. I got looked at a bit more than usual but nothing big.”

  “Really?” she asked. “Any of them cute guys?”

  “No, mom. This isn’t a good thing. I don’t like being looked at – it makes me uncomfortable.” I wanted to shiver at the thought.

  “Well, one thing at a time, I suppose. At least we got you out of those hoodies,” she smiled; I cringed at the thought of reminding her that the deal was up tonight so I let the thought fall.

  “Sooo...”

  Since this was going to keep going, I took another bite of pizza.

  “Wyn’s brother, he’s quite the looker.”

  “Ew, mom!” I cringed. “He’s like ten years older than me or something.”

  “Really? He didn’t look that old.”

  “Some people are blessed with good genes, I suppose.”

  “Hmmmm... Well, would it be considered cradle-robbing if I tried to hook up with him?” She grinned so I knew she was kidding but the thought still made me sick.

  “Gross, mom. I can’t believe you even said that.”

  “Well, can you blame me? I am a tad bit lonely after all. I could use a...”

  “Stop right there, mom, please. Besides, I thought you were still in love with dad.”

  Her face changed, her joyous smile slipping away to make room for an odd scowl. She looked almost, I don’t know...mad.

  “I am. And speaking of your father, why didn’t you tell me that he sent you a letter?”

  My face paled and my pizza crust dropped down to my plate. The empty trash can suddenly made sense; my mother never did household chores.

  “I didn’t want to upset you,” I whispered.