Flame (Fireborn)

by Arden, Mari

  Malachi makes a sound to get their attention, baring fangs that glint in the artificial light. "I will be arriving in a month. Make sure the fire crystal is ready."

  He bows, desperate to leave.

  "Oh, and Rhys?"

  He pauses, turning back to face his commander.

  "Don't disappoint me," Malachi says with deadly calm.

  The invisible threat hangs in the air.

  "I won't."

  Chapter 10

  "Fire! Fire!"

  My scream vibrates against the walls as I shriek and jump out of bed. I scan the room wildly, looking for something to put out the sudden blaze that's consuming my bed sheets. An oversized coat hangs on my door, and I pull it, thrashing it against the fire that's threatening to take over my little corner of the house. I use the coat as a weapon, beating the flames like a boxer. Luckily, it doesn't catch on fire, but I wonder if it's enough. I scream when the coat is unexpectedly pulled from my hands, and sinks into the center of the blaze. A soft eruption signals its demise, and I panic, screeching.

  A flame jumps out at me, blocking my only path to the door. Gray smoke is gathering, attempting to leave, but there's nowhere to go. The fire has spread to an old wooden nightstand, and roars louder as it devours more energy.

  I swear, dodging another flame. I pound the thin walls with my fist.

  "Help!" I shout. There's no answer, and no movement, but I'm hopeful. Then I remember that it's Friday night, and no one is home but me. I cover my mouth and nose with the bottom of my shirt, and rush to the rectangular windows overlooking the street. They're all side-by-side, forming a makeshift balcony. I pick the one to my right, tugging it to open. We locked them in anticipation for the winter, but I use all my strength to crack it open anyway. The old locks resist me, and I heave, trying again and again.

  Finally, I give up, and punch the glass with all my might. I don't know what I expect to happen, but I don't wait for the pain to subside before I attempt it again, on all three windows. My knuckles literally feel like they are ringing underneath my skin, but that isn't enough to stop me from using my shoulders, and then my whole body against the glass. I can hear the fire behind me, and I don't glance back to see how big it has grown because then I might give up. I don't want to give up. If I did, my dad would too. Then our whole family would be gone. Given up to whatever flames life had thrown at us.

  With this last thought, a surge of energy quivers through me. I resume my concentration on the third window, grabbing the plastic chair next to me. Lifting it high, I slam it against the glass, praying it'll break into a million pieces. The sounds are not nearly as loud as the cackling of fire behind me, but I hear the crash of plastic and metal on glass like a drum. I follow the pattern over and over. A small crack forms on the surface, and I slam the chair down harder.

  The blaze is so close to me that sweat drops down my back, sinking into my shirt. Even though I have a plan, I can't stop the panic seizing my mind.

  "C'mon, c'mon, work, work, work! " I chant to myself.

  Out of nowhere, the window to my farthest left crashes. It literally splits itself into large pieces, like someone has thrown a boulder at it. When a figure breaks the remaining pieces with his hand, I realize that I might survive after all. I rush at him.

  "We have to get out!" I shout.

  He has a sweater over his mouth and nose. Glowing eyes blink in response, and Rhys gestures to the broken window.

  I crawl through it, not caring that all I have on are thin pajamas in the cold Minnesota night. I balance myself on the thin ledge underneath my window, inching my way to a tree branch, dangling tantalizingly close. I glance back to make sure Rhys is following me, and when his body brushes mine I breathe a sigh of relief. Together, and with painstaking slowness, we move forward, balancing on the thin ledge like tightrope walkers. I look down at the hard ground below, and hesitate. He nudges me onward, his body strong and reliable. When I reach the thick branch I swing my leg over one side, sliding backward until my butt touches the base of the branch. Then I maneuver my body around the trunk of the tree, and shimmy down. The rough surface scratches me, but the cold has already made me numb. When I'm less than two feet off the ground, soft hands touch my back, helping me jump off.

  "You okay?" Lenora's wide eyes are glossy in the night sky.

  I shiver, the adrenaline still pumping in my veins.

  "Is there anyone else in the house?" she asks with worry.

  I shake my head.

  She moves me to the side, and nods to the figure behind me. "There's no one else in the house. We need water or something, Rhys! Or else the fire will just continue to burn--" She barely finishes before he sprints off through the front entrance.

  Smoke continues to pour outside, covering part of the house with fog. I run after him. He hears my footsteps, and turns to catch me in his arms.

  He's incredulous. "What are you doing?"

  "Helping you help me!"

  "Go back. You'll get hurt."

  "You can, too," I retort.

  "Not me. I'm Golden Eyes."

  Is he serious right now!

  Lenora grabs me from behind before I can move. "You can't go in, Kenna!" she wails. Her eyes are frantic.

  I turn back to Rhys, but he's disappeared into the house. Frustrated, I push past Lenora with more aggression than she expects, and she falls back. I unwind the garden hose. Please work, please work. I turn the knob to open the water. Someone above is listening because water sprays out with a gurgle, and I aim it as high as I can, wanting to drench the whole outside of the house. I settle for my bedroom window.

  "Here." I shove the hose toward Lenora. Wrapping my legs around the tree, I tell her, "I'm going to climb back up. Hand me the hose when I'm high enough." She looks ready to argue, but she doesn't, and dutifully does what I ask once I'm back on the branch.

  When the firefighters finally arrive, there isn't much to do. We had already contained the fire, and Rhys emerges with dirt and smoke on his face and hands, still looking like a million bucks. I'm embarrassed I notice, and push the thought away.

  "Are you okay?" I ask him, thankful and I'm relieved for what he's done.

  He nods. "Yeah. You?"

  I nod back. I'm suddenly aware I'm dressed in an Angry Bird shirt and a matching pajama pant. I tell myself they probably don't even know who Angry Bird is, so I shouldn't feel too mortified.

  "How'd you find me?" I ask. He looks uncomfortable. Belatedly, I realize I just insinuated he was searching for me. As if he has a reason to, I remind myself.

  "We were at our head-" He stops. "Head work place a block from here." He gestures behind us. "We drove by and saw a fire."

  "You work this late into the night?" That explains why his eyes always storm whenever I mention work.

  "Yes."

  "Where are your parents?" Lenora asks. "We should probably let them know."

  I rub my forehead. "I'll let Dad know when he comes home." I had to. He'll notice the black soot marks covering part of the house. Not to mention a broken window and a half, and a burnt bedroom.

  Neighbors come to ask how I am, but Rhys and Lenora don't leave my side. Maybe they notice the numbness slowly choking me every time I look at my house. I know how close to death I was. I relieved, but I can't stop my teeth from chattering and my body from shaking. Abruptly, vomit rises up my throat, and without warning I run. I hear footsteps behind me, but I don't slow down. When I'm behind a tree, I pour out everything inside me: terror, fear, and my relief I've survived. It tastes like chicken and processed cheese.

  A hand pulls my hair back, and it's gentle, rubbing soft circles around my back. "Easy," Rhys whispers. "It's ok," he says. I shake my head. Doesn't he realize what could've happened?

  "My dad can't live without me."

  "He doesn't have to," Rhys says.

  I don't notice I've spoken out loud until Rhys answered. My shaking has dwindled, but his hands don't leave, and they continue to stroke my back.
>
  "I'll always be here. I'm not going to let you die," he says. I look up. "I've done a pretty good job of saving you so far, haven't I?" He grins. "I am Golden Eyes after all."

  Even though I'm still anxious from the fire, I'm slowly melting inside from his smile. You save everyone, I think tenderly. Out loud I say, "Eh. Superman would've gotten here faster."

  "I doubt it. I can beam pretty quick."

  Remembering how he saved me from the truck yesterday morning, I ask, "How did you save me from the truck so fast yesterday?"

  "Some of us can move a little faster than humans."

  "I'd say a lot faster." His small smile tells me I'm probably right.

  "Isn't it human custom to thank the person who saves your life?" he suddenly asks.

  "Thank you."

  I'm so close to him I can feel the heat from his body. His hands are still rubbing circles on my back, and the soothing motion has the opposite effect he's intending it for. My heart accelerates, pounding harder. I notice something small and black on his face. Debris maybe? I resist the urge to touch him and wipe it off.

  "It's not safe here anymore, Kenna."

  My stomach plummets. Last night I'd watched a report on World News Tonight about a religious group who vowed to kill every Saguinox on Earth. When questioned by Diane Sawyer, their representative responded aliens on earth are unnatural. God created each of us for different worlds, and we shouldn't mix. When Diane asked for a response from her T.V. audience, someone immediately twittered: God shouldn't have given aliens the intelligence to build space traveling ships then. #insteadofhatingweshouldgetsmarter.

  Gazing into Rhys's worried face, I wonder what he's hiding. Has there been an investigation about the incident yesterday? Is it part of a larger conspiracy? "Do you and Lenora have to leave?"

  He hesitates. "Sort of."

  What does that mean?

  His hands find mine, and my fingers curl around his. It feels so good, and I hold on even when the static shocks us. We ride out the small bolt before he takes a breath, making a decision.

  "Come on." He says it with such authority that I follow him. When we get back to Lenora she's waiting next to her expensive car. She seems nervous.

  "Ready?" she asks.

  "For what?" I'm confused. But I don't think she's talking to me.

  She moves closer until she is inches from my body, and the glow in her eyes brightens. Violet spots glare, growing luminous.

  I suck in a breath, staring at the dizzying lullaby. Her smile is angelic, and I can't help the grin fluttering on my lips.

  "Get in the car, Kenna."

  I do as she says because I can't bare not to. Something in my mind is rumbling. I rub my hands on the smooth leather interior. I want to sleep on it. They've closed the door, but her voice drifts into my ears from outside.

  "I'm not sure I can do it," I hear her confess.

  "It's okay if you're nervous. Turn it on as long as you can," Rhys instructs her. "Can you do it?"

  "Okay."

  A second later Rhys slides next to me, and I realize I'm cold. I reach for him, and he lets me hold his hand for a moment. He squeezes my fingers, then he's fumbling with something, and I'm suddenly afraid to look. Warning bells sound in my head, and I know this isn't a good idea. I open my mouth to protest. Lenora is behind the wheel, and turns toward me.

  "Kenna." Her irises are all purple now, and she's calming me down because my whole body becomes limp. I start to panic. My eyes refuse to leave hers though, and mauve colors dance in front of me swaying like seaweed on an ocean floor. "Time to go," she whispers. Her voice is hypnotizing, and I blink.

  I'm frozen, and when Rhys sticks a needle into my vein, I realize I've made a big mistake.

  Chapter 10

  "Fire! Fire!"

  My scream vibrates against the walls as I shriek and jump out of bed. I scan the room wildly, looking for something to put out the sudden blaze that's consuming my bed sheets. An oversized coat hangs on my door, and I pull it, thrashing it against the fire that's threatening to take over my little corner of the house. I use the coat as a weapon, beating the flames like a boxer. Luckily, it doesn't catch on fire, but I wonder if it's enough. I scream when the coat is unexpectedly pulled from my hands, and sinks into the center of the blaze. A soft eruption signals its demise, and I panic, screeching.

  A flame jumps out at me, blocking my only path to the door. Gray smoke is gathering, attempting to leave, but there's nowhere to go. The fire has spread to an old wooden nightstand, and roars louder as it devours more energy.

  I swear, dodging another flame. I pound the thin walls with my fist.

  "Help!" I shout. There's no answer, and no movement, but I'm hopeful. Then I remember that it's Friday night, and no one is home but me. I cover my mouth and nose with the bottom of my shirt, and rush to the rectangular windows overlooking the street. They're all side-by-side, forming a makeshift balcony. I pick the one to my right, tugging it to open. We locked them in anticipation for the winter, but I use all my strength to crack it open anyway. The old locks resist me, and I heave, trying again and again.

  Finally, I give up, and punch the glass with all my might. I don't know what I expect to happen, but I don't wait for the pain to subside before I attempt it again, on all three windows. My knuckles literally feel like they are ringing underneath my skin, but that isn't enough to stop me from using my shoulders, and then my whole body against the glass. I can hear the fire behind me, and I don't glance back to see how big it has grown because then I might give up. I don't want to give up. If I did, my dad would too. Then our whole family would be gone. Given up to whatever flames life had thrown at us.

  With this last thought, a surge of energy quivers through me. I resume my concentration on the third window, grabbing the plastic chair next to me. Lifting it high, I slam it against the glass, praying it'll break into a million pieces. The sounds are not nearly as loud as the cackling of fire behind me, but I hear the crash of plastic and metal on glass like a drum. I follow the pattern over and over. A small crack forms on the surface, and I slam the chair down harder.

  The blaze is so close to me that sweat drops down my back, sinking into my shirt. Even though I have a plan, I can't stop the panic seizing my mind.

  "C'mon, c'mon, work, work, work! " I chant to myself.

  Out of nowhere, the window to my farthest left crashes. It literally splits itself into large pieces, like someone has thrown a boulder at it. When a figure breaks the remaining pieces with his hand, I realize that I might survive after all. I rush at him.

  "We have to get out!" I shout.

  He has a sweater over his mouth and nose. Glowing eyes blink in response, and Rhys gestures to the broken window.

  I crawl through it, not caring that all I have on are thin pajamas in the cold Minnesota night. I balance myself on the thin ledge underneath my window, inching my way to a tree branch, dangling tantalizingly close. I glance back to make sure Rhys is following me, and when his body brushes mine I breathe a sigh of relief. Together, and with painstaking slowness, we move forward, balancing on the thin ledge like tightrope walkers. I look down at the hard ground below, and hesitate. He nudges me onward, his body strong and reliable. When I reach the thick branch I swing my leg over one side, sliding backward until my butt touches the base of the branch. Then I maneuver my body around the trunk of the tree, and shimmy down. The rough surface scratches me, but the cold has already made me numb. When I'm less than two feet off the ground, soft hands touch my back, helping me jump off.

  "You okay?" Lenora's wide eyes are glossy in the night sky.

  I shiver, the adrenaline still pumping in my veins.

  "Is there anyone else in the house?" she asks with worry.

  I shake my head.

  She moves me to the side, and nods to the figure behind me. "There's no one else in the house. We need water or something, Rhys! Or else the fire will just continue to burn--" She barely finishes before he sprints off thro
ugh the front entrance.

  Smoke continues to pour outside, covering part of the house with fog. I run after him. He hears my footsteps, and turns to catch me in his arms.

  He's incredulous. "What are you doing?"

  "Helping you help me!"

  "Go back. You'll get hurt."

  "You can, too," I retort.

  "Not me. I'm Golden Eyes."

  Is he serious right now!

  Lenora grabs me from behind before I can move. "You can't go in, Kenna!" she wails. Her eyes are frantic.

  I turn back to Rhys, but he's disappeared into the house. Frustrated, I push past Lenora with more aggression than she expects, and she falls back. I unwind the garden hose. Please work, please work. I turn the knob to open the water. Someone above is listening because water sprays out with a gurgle, and I aim it as high as I can, wanting to drench the whole outside of the house. I settle for my bedroom window.

  "Here." I shove the hose toward Lenora. Wrapping my legs around the tree, I tell her, "I'm going to climb back up. Hand me the hose when I'm high enough." She looks ready to argue, but she doesn't, and dutifully does what I ask once I'm back on the branch.

  When the firefighters finally arrive, there isn't much to do. We had already contained the fire, and Rhys emerges with dirt and smoke on his face and hands, still looking like a million bucks. I'm embarrassed I notice, and push the thought away.

  "Are you okay?" I ask him, thankful and I'm relieved for what he's done.

  He nods. "Yeah. You?"

  I nod back. I'm suddenly aware I'm dressed in an Angry Bird shirt and a matching pajama pant. I tell myself they probably don't even know who Angry Bird is, so I shouldn't feel too mortified.