by Ben Hale
She'd gotten detention from the principal.
She'd gotten ice cream from her dad.
Had it really been eight months since that day? She'd just celebrated her fifteenth birthday when Jason had tried to put his hands where he shouldn't. Her absolute refusal had caused him to become sullen and angry, so she'd ended it.
They hadn't really spoken since the fight, but Tess couldn't blame him. His black eye had lasted for longer than her detention. She grinned in the darkness, realizing she was happy with the way it had worked out. Her parents and friends had been supportive and she'd moved on.
Now she had four months until she got her license, school had let out a week ago, and she hoped to get a job soon. The only black mark to her future was summer school. She groaned as reality returned and she put her dream aside.
She rose from her disheveled bed and paced from the room in search of breakfast, pleased at the hour. Her father would be up in a few minutes, and she rarely got a chance to see him before he went to work. She stopped in the bathroom to tame her hair, and raked a brush through the brown mess until it behaved. Wavy and thick, it was probably her best feature—when it stayed in line.
Once it was under control she looked at the face in the mirror. Brown eyes met her gaze, the flecks of gold enhancing their intensity. Her features were smooth, but couldn't overpower the steel in her eyes. She sighed and looked away. She thought of herself as attractive, but sometimes got the impression she inspired fear rather than allure.
An alarm sounded from the neighboring room, causing her to slip out of the bathroom and down the stairs. Feeling generous, she gathered ingredients and heated a pan on the stove. By the time her father clumped down the stairs the first ones were done.
"Pancakes?" her dad asked, a smile tugging at his lips.
She grinned, and slid two onto his plate. "I thought you could use a nice breakfast today."
He kissed her on the forehead and retrieved the syrup before sitting. "Why today?"
"Because it's Tuesday."
He laughed and took a bite. "I do look forward to Tuesdays."
Placing a pancake onto a second plate she sank into a seat across from him, and slid him the newspaper she'd collected from the front porch. Flashing a smile of gratitude, he opened it and began to read.
Despite the advent of technology, her father still preferred to read the paper. Her dad was not one to talk unnecessarily, and preferred actions over words. With black hair salted with white, he appeared older than he was, but it didn't detract from his looks. With a square jaw and bright blue eyes, he was more handsome than most of the fathers she knew. He worked for the government, in a capacity that kept him from revealing everything he did.
"Ready for school to start?" he asked. He didn't take his eyes from the paper, but his lips twitched like he wanted to smile.
She grimaced. "I'm going to spend my summer chained to a desk. How can anyone be ready for that?"
His smile won the fight as he met Tess's gaze. "Don't worry about it too much. I am sure you will get excellent grades."
She'd been forced to take summer courses for the last five years, but the sincerity in her father's voice was unmistakable. His blatant disregard of her track record may have been denial, but his unwavering confidence in her was one of the reasons she loved him.
"Of course, Dad," she said. He ignored her sour tone.
Before he could respond her mother strode into the room, already dressed in a skirt and white blouse. Trim and fit, she had a small figure that carried a subtle grace. Soft-spoken, she had a strength to her that appeared when she taught the second grade. Kids learned early that she was an excellent teacher, but not one to be crossed. Her deep brown eyes were warm with affection and concern, yet had the power to pin seven-year-olds to their seats.
"Jack," she said, kissing him on the cheek. Her fingers lingered on his shoulder.
"Kate," he replied with a smile, and lifted his chin to face her.
She bent down and kissed him. Breaking away, she quirked an eyebrow at Tess. "Breakfast? What's the occasion?"
"It's Tuesday," her dad replied before she could.
As her mom laughed, Tess realized the next pancakes were burning. Leaping to the stove, she frowned as she removed them.
"Just the way I like them," her mom said. With nimble fingers she grabbed a plate and caught them before Tess could dump them into the trash.
"I can make more," Tess protested, but her mom was already moving to sit beside her father. Adding syrup, she began to eat with a smile on her lips.
"Since you are up, do you want me to drop you off at school?" her mom asked, not even cringing at the charred food.
It wasn't a bad idea. Jefferson High was a few minutes away, and even though she would be early to summer school (she shuddered at that idea) it would mean she wouldn't have to wait for the bus in the rain.
"Fine," Tess sighed, "but don't tell anyone I was early to my first day of summer school."
In sync her parents agreed, so Tess left to get ready. Changing clothes and filling her backpack, she tried not to let despair cloud her thoughts. It was still difficult to accept what she viewed as prison, but she knew it was her own fault.
From an early age she'd despised homework, especially in subjects that she regarded as nonessential. Math, science, and history were the usual culprits, but others had been known to join them. Every time she had to do work in those topics, she felt like she was tightening screws into her skull.
She shuddered, her resolve weakening, but she forced herself to lace her shoes. With a jerk of her head she stood and went downstairs. She found her mother reading a book in the living room, already wearing her coat. Together, they ran through the rain to the car. Cranking the air, her mother turned on the radio and listened to the news. Tess stared out the window.
Richmond’s rain-soaked streets slid past in a sea of concrete sprinkled with neat rows of trees and shrubs. Soon homes gave way to shops, banks, and grocery stores. The few people out wore coats and carried umbrellas, hiding their faces as they hurried on their way.
She only noticed him because she'd seen him before.
The man was tall and well built, and stood under an overhang to avoid the rain. Dressed in jeans and a leather jacket he seemed unassuming, yet as their gaze connected Tess saw power, like she'd looked into a blazing fire. Streaked with red, his black hair hung free to his shoulders. He looked middle-aged, yet there was an intangible air about him that seemed timeless.
She couldn’t break the connection, and only looked away when they had turned the corner. Why had he stared like that—like he was expecting her? She'd seen him on two prior occasions, and both had been in the last week. Words like stalker, crazy, and jerk came to mind, but none of them fit. The catch in the man's eyes harbored no animosity. Instead it conveyed concern—and understanding.
Regardless, the event was disturbing and she considered telling her mother, but they were already pulling into the school. Tess wished her good luck, but knew she didn't need it. Even in the summer program where she taught special needs children, her mother excelled.
"You too, honey," she replied, "and don't forget your bag." She flashed a smug smile and lifted Tess's backpack.
Her mother knew her too well. Although she'd tried the 'I forgot my books' tactic a few times, it had only worked once.
"Thanks Mom," Tess said, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.
"Bye," she sang.
Tess laughed and jumped out of the car. Dodging puddles, she hurried inside. With half an hour before the first bell, she headed to the library and browsed the books. Selecting a novel she'd read before, she plopped into a seat and shook out her hair. She flipped through the pages to a part she liked, but couldn't seem to garner enough interest to read. Her thoughts kept returning to the man in the rain.
Who was he? And why had he looked at her like that? Was he following her? Did it have something to do with her father?
Realizing she'd reread the same paragraph several times, she closed the book with a grunt and reshelved it. She returned to the hall and trudged to her classroom. Upon entering she was surprised to see someone already there. With his head on the desk, it took her a moment to recognize him as a hockey player from the previous summer.
Her lips thinned and she tiptoed toward a desk, not wanting to wake him. Last summer he'd been crude and made disparaging remarks about everyone in the class. She'd managed to keep her temper until he laughed at a disabled kid. She'd knocked the chair out from under him . . . and gotten detention . . . in summer school.
That time her dad gave her sprinkles on her ice cream.
Students trickled into the classroom, and each looked as despondent as she felt. When the teacher arrived Tess did her best to pay attention, but it didn't take long before she zoned out. She jerked awake when the bell rang for dismissal. The first hour of torture was over and she gathered her books, ready to be gone. She reached the door at the same time as the hockey player, but he paused to let her go first. She almost grinned but held it in check. Stepping through, she headed for trig.
The hours crawled by, and Tess occupied herself by staring at the clock. When the final bell rang she was the first out the door. She felt the urge to skip as she saw that the rain had stopped. It felt wonderful to step into the light and turn her steps toward Amy's house. None of Tess’s friends had failed their classes, but that didn't mean she couldn't spend time with them after school. With the sunlight lifting her spirits, she enjoyed the ten minute walk.
Amy must have been watching from her window, because she was standing in the door when Tess turned onto her driveway.
"How was class?" Amy asked. She laughed at Tess's expression. "Was it that bad?"
"Remember the kid I knocked to the floor last year?"
"Jared?"
"Yeah, he sits in front of me again, or at least he did until he saw where I was sitting."
Amy had been leading her up the stairs, but she whirled on her. "It was your first day! Please tell me you didn't do anything."
"Of course not," Tess said, offended. "Besides, he practically held the door for me when I left."
"I would too if you almost gave me a concussion."
"He's on the hockey team. Don't blame me if he's fragile."
Amy laughed, flipping her long blonde hair. Of the few people that Tess could call friends, Amy was the prettiest. Her full figure and bright blue eyes were irresistible to boys. She was popular as well, but not in the cheerleader sense. With countless clubs and organizations as part of her agenda, she knew everyone.
The afternoon passed quickly as they watched movies and talked. It had been a few weeks since they had found time around Amy's schedule, but their friendship was easy, like pulling on a comfortable pair of gloves. Despite that, there had always been a certain distance between them, preventing anything more than surface conversation.
"What time do you need to leave?" Amy said, her eyebrows pulling together as she looked at the clock.
Tess glanced at the time and blanched. She was late, again. She grabbed her shoes and slipped them on. "Ah, my mom's going to kill me."
"Your mom never kills you. She's too nice."
"Her look does enough damage," Tess said, rising to her feet.
Amy conceded the point. She'd witnessed the scathing disappointment before. "You'd better hurry."
They said their goodbyes and Tess rushed out the door. Pausing at the sidewalk, she furrowed her brow. The sun was setting, but she really didn't want to get into trouble on her first day. Grunting at the choice, she took the shortcut through downtown, ignoring the echo of warning from her dad. She silenced her concerns and told herself that he didn't need to know.
Ten minutes later she realized she'd left her backpack behind, but it was too late to go back for it. Frowning at the oversight, she resolved to pick it up tomorrow before school. She picked up the pace as she left the homes behind and entered the city.
Dodging behind a manufacturing plant to save time, she walked past its empty shipping doors. The chain link fence on her left kept dense foliage at bay, but left a solitary route to a dead end a short distance ahead. Not liking the feeling, she took the first right toward the main road, but came to a halt when she saw two people standing at the end.
Lounging against the sides of the alley, they were facing toward her—and both wore hooded cloaks. Alarm bells went off in her head and she changed direction. She could bypass them if she kept going around the next building.
Hurrying now, she went behind a warehouse until she reached the next alley. Two more, dressed in the same dark cloaks, faced her, fifty feet away. She felt a sliver of fear and tried to remember if she'd put her pepper spray into her bag. It had been a birthday present from her dad two years ago. She felt the urge to curse when she recalled where it was, on a shelf above her computer.
Then the men turned toward her.
Striding in her direction, their movements were focused, determined. The black hoods were pulled low, obscuring their features in shadow. She threw a look back and saw that the first two had appeared. She frowned, considering her options . . . and bolted.
Racing past the last building, she skidded to a stop as she saw that two more blocked the final alley. Her heart sank as she saw the trap, and she considered climbing the fence to her left, but the razor wire deterred her—for now. Instead, she sprinted into the cul-de-sac, hoping for a way out—but the brick wall at the end yielded no escape. Whirling, she faced her pursuers, her hands balled into fists.
Revealed by a single floodlight attached to the roof above, the six men materialized from the dark. They advanced until they blocked her path, and then stopped short. Tess had been building her strength to yell, but their hesitation surprised her. What were they waiting for? She was about to demand answers but another figure appeared. Striding through the line, he slowed as he approached. Large and broad shouldered, his very posture felt like a threat.
A swirl of thoughts and emotions cascaded through her. What's going on? What do they want from me? Foreboding and menace laced her mind, but she gathered her resolve to fight. Her heart jack-hammered in her chest, flooding her body with adrenaline as he neared. Then he raised a hand toward her.
This close to him the light was sufficient for her to see the lower half of his face. His smile was smug, as if he expected her to be an easy catch. Her anger exploded, erasing her fear in a burst of heat. Thundering through her body it pounded into her skull, snapping her hesitation like a stick. Deep down it felt like something thick and heavy broke as well, like a rubber band had burst within her.
Taking a step forward she threw her arms at him, intending to knock him sprawling . . .
—Fire erupted from the ground between them. It exploded into view and caught the man's outstretched hand, searing a line across it. The man cried out in pain and recoiled—but the fire was spreading. Flooding to the line of hooded men, it sent the flames to the fence on her right, and to the building on her left. Stumbling to escape, her would-be assailants withdrew. Bringing up the rear, the leader cradled his arm and disappeared from view.
Tess stood frozen, her arms still outstretched as the inferno raged in front of her. At this proximity the heat should be scorching, but her body felt as cool as if she faced an A/C vent. Unsure of herself, she slowly lowered her arms.
Then another figure appeared.
Flames licked and curled on his body as he strode through the blaze, oblivious to its attempts to consume him. As he neared she recognized the red streaks in his black hair. Stopping at the edge of the fire, he waited, but Tess couldn't seem to find her voice.
"Did you do this?" she finally managed.
His smile was sincere. "No Tess." He gestured at her. "You did."
Chapter 3: Stranger
Tess stared at the man, unable to comprehend his words. What did he mean . . . her? Since no rational explanation seemed to fit, she questioned her sa
nity. Had she lost it? Had her mind snapped and this was the resulting hallucination? If so, why was the stalker in it? Or was she still asleep? Maybe at any moment she would wake up still at Amy's house. . .
"You are not asleep," the man said, amusement coloring his tone, "—or crazy."
"Of course I am," Tess forced the words out, wondering why she was arguing with the dream—or hallucination—or dream.
"Do you mind if I . . ." He swept his hand at the flames. "We don't want to call any more attention to you."
She shrugged at him, but despite herself felt a spark of interest.
He made a gesture with his hand, and the fire shrank in response. In seconds the blaze had evaporated, leaving steam rising from the blackened concrete and scorched bricks. Tess blinked at the diminished light . . . stunned at what she had just witnessed. Then she pinched her arm.
"Ow!" she said, surprised that it had hurt.
"Satisfied?" he asked. A grin threatened to appear on his face.
"No," she growled, "I may not be dreaming—but what just happened? Who are you? And how do you know my name?"
"You may call me Hawk." A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, as if he were recalling something humorous. "And I know your name because someone tasked me with protecting you."
"That's ridiculous."
He laughed and said, "It might be best if we start at the beginning."
"That's usually a good place to start," she said, unable to keep the acid from her voice. How much did he have to explain? She felt a flash of irritation at herself. This guy had probably just saved her life, and she was treating him like a stick of dynamite.
Her tone didn't seem to faze him, and his smile remained. Gesturing at her hands, he said evenly, "You might want to cool off, though. Fire may not be the only thing that comes out now that your binding is broken."
She looked at her fists hanging at her sides—and blanched. Small flames curled from her hands and up her arms, tracing jagged lines across her skin before sinking back into her body. Astonishment flooded her, overpowering her anger and fear. As if in response to the shift in emotion, the fires faded and went dark.
