Wild Fire

by Christine Feehan

  The moment she crossed the threshold of her bathroom, cool sea colors surrounded her with instant calm. The green slate beneath her feet matched the slate sea turtles swimming through an ocean of glossy blue around the walls.

  She always showered at night to wash the sea off of her, but after a particularly bad nightmare, the spray of the water on her skin felt like a healing wash across her soul. The water in the shower was already running, calling to her, and she stepped into the stall. Instantly the water soothed her, soaking into her pores, refreshing, her personal talisman. The drops on her skin felt sensual, nearly mesmerizing her with the perfection of shape. She was lost in the clarity and immediately zoned out, taken to another realm where all chaos was gone from her mind.

  Things that might ordinarily hurt--sounds, textures, the everyday things others took for granted--were washed away with the sweat from her nightmares or the salt from the sea. When she stood in the water, she was as close to normal as she would ever get, and she reveled in the feeling. As always, she was lost in the shower, disappearing into the clean, cool, refreshing pleasure it brought her, until, abruptly, the hot water was gone and her shower turned ice cold, startling her out of her trance.

  Once she could breathe without a hitch, she toweled off and dragged on her sweats, not looking at the scars on her calves and feet. She didn't need to relive those moments again, yet night after night the fire was back, looking at her, marking her for death.

  She shivered, turned up her radio so she could hear it throughout the house, and pulled out her laptop, taking it through the hallway to her kitchen. Blessed coffee was the only answer to idiocy. She started the coffee while she listened to the radio spitting out local news. She dropped into a chair, stilling to concentrate when it came to the weather. She wanted to know what her mistress was feeling this morning. Calm? Angry? A little stormy? She stretched as she listened. Calm seas. Little wind. A freaking tsunami drill?

  Not again. "What a crock," she muttered aloud, slumping dejectedly. "We don't need another one."

  They'd just had a silly drill. Everyone had complied. How had she missed that they had scheduled another one in the local news? When they conducted drills of this magnitude, it was always advertised heavily. Then again . . . Rikki sat up straight, a smile blossoming on her face. Maybe the tsunami drill was just the opportunity she'd been looking for. Today was a darned perfect day to go to work. With a tsunami warning in effect, no one else would be out on the ocean--she would have the sea to herself. This was the perfect chance to visit her secret diving hole and harvest the small fortune in sea urchins she'd discovered there. She had found the spot weeks ago, but didn't want to dive when others might be around to see her treasure trove.

  Rikki poured a cup of coffee and wandered out to the front porch to enjoy that first aromatic sip. She was going to make the big bucks today. Maybe even enough money to pay back the women who'd taken her in as part of their family for the expenses they'd incurred on her behalf. She wouldn't have her beloved boat finished if it wasn't for them. She could probably fill the boat with just a couple of hours' work. Hopefully the processor would think the urchins were as good as she did, and would pay top dollar.

  Rikki looked around at the trees shimmering in the early morning light. Birds flitted from branch to branch and wild turkeys were walking along the far creek where she'd scattered seed for them. A young buck grazed in the meadow just a short distance from her house. Sitting there, sipping her coffee and watching the wildlife around her, everything began to settle in both body and mind.

  She'd never imagined she would have a chance at such a place, such a life. And she never would have if not for the five strangers who'd entered her life and taken her into theirs. They'd changed her world forever.

  She owed them everything. Her "sisters." They weren't her biological sisters, but no blood sister could be closer. They called themselves "sisters of the heart," and to Rikki that's exactly what they were. Her sisters. Her family. She had no one else and knew she never would. They had her fierce, unswerving loyalty.

  The five women had believed in her when she'd lost all faith, when she was at her most broken. They had invited her to be one of them, and although she'd been terrified that she would bring something evil with her, she'd accepted, because it was that or die. That one decision was the single best thing she'd ever done.

  The family--all six of them--lived on the farm together. One hundred thirty acres, which nestled six beautiful houses. Hers was the smallest. Rikki knew she'd never marry or have children, so she didn't need a large house. Besides, she loved the simplicity of her small home with its open spaces and high beams and soothing colors of the sea that made her feel so at peace.

  A slight warning shivered down her body. She was not alone. Rikki turned her head and her tension abated slightly at the sight of the approaching woman. Tall and slender with a wealth of dark wavy hair untouched by gray in spite of her forty-two years, Blythe Daniels was the oldest of Rikki's five sisters, and the acknowledged leader of their family.

  "Hey, you," Rikki greeted. "Couldn't sleep?"

  Blythe flashed her smile, the one Rikki thought was so endearing and beautiful--a little crooked, allowing a glimpse of straight white teeth that nature, not braces, had provided.

  "You're not going out today, are you?" Blythe asked, then nonchalantly went over to the spigot at the side of the house and turned it off.

  "Sure I am." She should have checked all four hoses, darn it. Rikki avoided Blythe's too-knowing gaze.

  Blythe looked uneasily toward the sea. "I just have this bad feeling . . ."

  "Really?" Rikki frowned and stood up, glancing out at the sky. "Seems like a perfect day to me."

  "Are you taking a tender with you?"

  "Hell no."

  Blythe sighed. "We talked about this. You said you'd consider the idea. It's safer, Rikki. You shouldn't be diving alone."

  "I don't like anyone touching my equipment. They roll my hoses wrong. They don't put the tools back. No. No way." She tried not to sound belligerent, but she was not having anyone on her boat messing with her things.

  "It's safer."

  Rikki rolled her eyes. How was having some idiot sitting on the boat not diving alone? But she didn't voice her thoughts; instead, she tried a smile. It was difficult. She didn't smile much, especially when the nightmares were too close. And she was barefoot. She didn't like being caught barefoot, and in spite of Blythe's determination not to look, her gaze couldn't help but be drawn to the scars covering Rikki's feet and calves.

  Rikki turned toward the house. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

  Blythe nodded. "I can get it, Rikki. Enjoy your morning." Dressed in her running shoes and light sweats, she managed to still look elegant. Rikki had no idea how she did it. Blythe was refined and educated and all the things Rikki wasn't, but that never seemed to matter to Blythe.

  Rikki took a breath and forced herself to sink back into the chair and tuck her feet under her, trying not to look disturbed at the idea of anyone going into her house.

  "You're drinking your coffee black again," Blythe said, and dropped a cube of sugar into Rikki's mug.

  Rikki frowned at her. "That was mean." She looked around for her sunglasses to cover her direct stare. She knew it bothered most people. Blythe never seemed upset by it, but Rikki didn't take chances. She found them on the railing and shoved them on her nose.

  "If you're diving today, you need it," Blythe pointed out. "You're way too thin and I noticed you haven't gone shopping again."

  "I did too. There's tons of food in the cupboards," Rikki pointed out.

  "Peanut butter is not food. You have nothing but peanut butter in your cupboard. I'm talking real food, Rikki."

  "I have Reese's Pieces and peanut butter cups. And bananas." If anyone else had snooped in her cupboards, Rikki would have been furious, but she just couldn't get upset with Blythe.

  "You have to try to eat better."

  "I do tr
y. I added the bananas like you asked me. And every night I eat broccoli." Rikki made a face. She dipped the raw vegetable into the peanut butter to make it more edible, but she'd promised Blythe so she faithfully ate it. "I'm actually beginning to like the stuff, even if it's green and feels like pebbles in my mouth."

  Blythe laughed. "Well, thank you for at least eating broccoli. Where are you diving?"

  Of course Blythe would have to ask. Rikki squirmed a little. Blythe was one of those people you just didn't lie to--or ignore, as Rikki often did others. "I've got this blackout I found and I want to harvest it while I can."

  Blythe made a face. "Don't speak diving. English, hon. I don't have a clue what you mean."

  "Urchins, spine to spine, so many, I think I can pull in four thousand pounds in a couple of hours. We could use the money."

  Blythe regarded her over the top of her coffee mug, her gaze steady. "Where, Rikki?"

  She was like a damn bulldog when she got going. "North of Fort Bragg."

  "You told me that area was dangerous," Blythe reminded.

  Rikki cursed herself silently for having a big mouth. She should never have talked about her weird feelings with the others. "No, I said it was spooky. The ocean is dangerous anywhere, Blythe, but you know I'm a safety girl. I follow all dive precautions and all my personal safety rules to the letter. I'm careful and I don't panic."

  She didn't normally dive along the fault line running just above the Fort Bragg coast because the abyss was deep and great whites used the area as a hunting ground. Usually she worked on the bottom, along the floor. Sharks hunted from below, so she was relatively safe, but harvesting urchins along the shelf was risky. She'd be making noise and a shark could come from below. But the money . . . She really wanted to pay her sisters back all the expenses they'd covered for her, helping her with her boat.

  Blythe shook her head. "I'm not talking about your safety rules. We all know you're a great diver, Rikki, but you shouldn't be alone out there. Anything could go wrong."

  "If I'm alone, I'm only responsible for my own life. I don't rely on anyone else. Every second counts, and I know exactly what to do. I've run into trouble countless times and I handle it. It's just easier by myself." And she didn't have to talk to anyone, or make nice. She could just be herself.

  "Why go north of Fort Bragg? You told me the undersea floor was very different and the sharks were more prevalent there and it kind of freaked you out."

  Rikki found herself wanting to smile inside when just seconds earlier she'd been squirming. Blithe saying "freaked out" meant she'd been spending time with Lexi Thompson, the youngest of their family.

  "I found a shelf at about thirty feet covered with sea urchins. They look fantastic. The fault runs through the area so there's an abyss about forty feet wide and another shelf, a little smaller, but still packed as well. No one's found the spot. It's a blackout, Blythe, uni spine to spine. I can harvest a good four thousand pounds and get out of there. I'll only go back when no one's around."

  Blythe couldn't fail to hear the excitement in her voice. She shook her head. "I don't like it, but I understand." And that was the trouble--she did. Rikki was both brilliant and reclusive. She seemed to take her talents for granted. Blythe could ask her to program something on the computer and she'd write a program quickly that worked better than anything else Blythe had ever tried.

  Everything about Rikki was a tragedy, and Blythe often felt like holding her tight, but she knew better. Rikki was very closed off to human touch, to relationships--basically to anything that had to do with others. She had allowed each of the other five women into her world, but they could only come so far before she shut down. She was haunted by her past--by the fires that had killed her parents and burned down her foster homes. By the fire that had taken her fiance, the only person Rikki had ever let herself love.

  "You had another nightmare, didn't you?" Blythe asked. "In case you're wondering, I turned off the three other hoses around your house."

  She didn't ask how the water had gotten turned on. The entire family knew water and Rikki went hand in hand and strange things happened when Rikki had nightmares.

  Rikki bit her lip. She tried a causal shrug to indicate nightmares were no big deal, but they both knew better. "Maybe. Yes. I still get them."

  "But you're getting them a lot lately," Blythe prodded gently. "Isn't that four or five in the last few weeks?"

  They both knew it was a lot more than that. Rikki blew out her breath. "That's another reason I'm going out diving today. Blowing bubbles always helps."

  "You won't take any chances," Blythe ventured. "I could go with you, take a book or something and read on the boat."

  Rikki knew she was asking if there was a possibility she would get careless on purpose, that maybe she was still grieving, or blaming herself. She didn't know the answer, so she changed tactics. "I thought you were going to the wedding. Isn't Elle Drake getting married today? You were looking forward to that." Another reason why the ocean would be hers and hers alone. Everyone was invited to the Drake wedding.

  "If you won't go to the wedding and you need to go to the sea, then I'll be happy reading a book out there," Blythe insisted.

  Rikki blew her a kiss. "Only you would give up a wedding to go with me. You'd throw up the entire time we were out there. You get seasick, Blythe."

  "I'm trying gingerroot," Blythe said. "Lexi says there's nothing like it."

  "She'd know."

  Lexi knew everything there was to know about plants and their uses. If Lexi said gingerroot would help, then Rikki was certain it would, but Blythe was not going to sacrifice a fun day just because she feared for Rikki's safety. Rikki's life was the sea. She couldn't be far from it. She had to be able to hear it at night, the soothing roll of the waves, the stormy pounding of the surf, the sounds of the seals barking at one another, the foghorns. It was all necessary in her life to keep her steady.

  Most of all, it was the water itself. The moment she touched it, pushed her hands into it, she felt different. There was no explanation for it. She didn't understand it, so how could she explain to someone else that when she was in water, she was at peace, completely free in her own environment.

  "Blythe, I'll be fine. I'm looking forward to going down."

  "You're spending too much time alone again," Blythe said bluntly. "Come to the wedding. All of the others are going. Judith can find you something to wear if you'd like."

  Rikki had a tendency to go to Judith for advice on what to wear or how to look if she was going to anything where there would be a large group of people, and Blythe obviously mentioned her on purpose in the hopes that Rikki would change her mind.

  Rikki shook her head, trying not to show a physical reaction, when her entire body shuddered at the horror of the thought of the crowd. "I can't do that. You know I can't. I always say the wrong thing and get people upset."

  She had met Blythe in a grief counseling session and somehow, Rikki still didn't know how or why, she'd blurted out her fears of being a sociopath to the others. She never talked to anyone about herself or her past, but Blythe had a way of making people feel comfortable. She was the most tolerant woman Rikki had ever known. Rikki wasn't taking any chances of doing anything that might alienate her or any of her other sisters. And that meant staying away from the residents of Sea Haven.

  "Rikki," Blythe said, with her uncanny ability that made Rikki think she read minds. "There is nothing wrong with you. You're a wonderful person and you don't embarrass us."

  Rikki tried desperately not to squirm, wishing she was already at sea and as far from this conversation as possible. She adjusted her glasses to make certain she wasn't staring inappropriately. Sheesh. There were so many freakin' social rules, how did people remember them? Give her the ocean any day.

  "And you don't need to wear your glasses around me," Blythe added gently. "The way you look at me doesn't bother me at all."

  "You're the exception, then, Blythe," Rikki snapped,
then bit down on her lip hard. It wasn't Blythe's fault that she was completely happy or completely sad, utterly angry or absolutely mellow. There was no in-between on the emotional scale for her, which made it a little difficult--whether Blythe wanted to admit it or not--for her to spend time with other people. Besides, everyone annoyed the hell out of her.

  "I'm different, Blythe. I'm comfortable being different, but others aren't comfortable around me." That was a fact Blythe couldn't dispute. Rikki often refused to answer someone when they asked her a direct question if she didn't feel it was their business. And anything personal wasn't anyone's business but hers. She felt her lack of response was completely appropriate, but the individual asking the question usually didn't.

  "You hide yourself away from the world, and it isn't good for you."

  "It's how I cope," Rikki said with a small shrug. "I love being here, with you and the others, I feel safe. And I feel safe when I'm in the water. Otherwise . . ." She shrugged again. "Don't worry about me. I'm staying out of trouble."

  Blythe took a swallow of coffee and regarded her with brooding eyes. "You're a genius, Rikki, you know that, don't you? I've never met anyone like you, capable of doing the things you do. You can memorize a textbook in minutes."

  Rikki shook her head. "I don't memorize. I just retain everything I read. I think that's why I seriously lack social skills. I don't have room for the niceties. And I'm not a genius; that's Lexi. I'm just able to do a few weird things."

  "I think you should talk about the nightmares with someone, Rikki."

  The conversation was excruciating for her, and had it been anyone but Blythe, Rikki wouldn't have bothered making an effort. This conversation skirted just a little too close to the past--and that was a place she would never go. That door in her mind was firmly shut. She couldn't afford to believe she was capable of the kinds of things others had accused her of: setting fires, killing her own parents, trying to hurt others. And Daniel . . .