by L. J. Smith
Jez still felt sick. But she knew what to say now.
“And what makes you think the Council is going to be around after the millennium?” She shook her head. “You’re better off going with Hunter. I’d bet on him against the Council any day.”
Morgead blinked once, lizardlike. “He’s planning on getting rid of the Council?”
Jez held his gaze. “What would you do in his place?”
Morgead’s expression didn’t get any sweeter. But she could see from his eyes that she had him.
He turned away sharply and went to glower out the window. Jez could practically see the wheels turning in his head. Finally he looked back.
“All right,” he said coldly. “I’ll join Hunters team—but only on my terms. After the millennium—”
“After the millennium you’ll get what you deserve.” Jez couldn’t help glaring back at him. Morgead brought out all her worst traits, all the things she tried to control in herself.
“You’ll get a position,” she amended, spinning the story she knew he wanted to hear. She was winging it, but she had no choice. “Hunter wants people loyal to him in the new order. And if you can prove you’re valuable, he’ll want you. But first you have to prove it. Okay? Deal?”
“If I can trust you.”
“We can trust each other because we have to. We both want the same thing. If we do what Hunter wants, we both win.”
“So we cooperate—for the time being.”
“We cooperate—and we see what happens,” Jez said evenly.
They stared at each other from opposite sides of the room. It was as if the blood sharing had never happened. They were back to their old roles—maybe a little more hostile, but the same old Jez and Morgead, enjoying being adversaries.
Maybe it’ll be easy from now on, Jez thought. As long as Hunter doesn’t show up to blow my story.
Then she grinned inwardly. It would never happen. Hunter Redfern hadn’t visited the West Coast for fifty years.
“Business,” she said crisply, out loud. “Where’s the Wild Power, Morgead?”
“I’ll show you.” He walked over to the futon and sat down.
Jez stayed where she was. “You’ll show me what?”
“Show you the Wild Power.” There was a TV with a VCR at the foot of the bed, sitting on the bare floor. Morgead was putting a tape in.
Jez settled on the far end of the futon, glad for the chance to sit.
“You’ve got the Wild Power on tape?”
He threw her an icy glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, on America’s Funniest Home Videos. Just shut up, Jez, and watch.”
Jez narrowed her eyes and watched.
What she was looking at was a TV movie about a doomsday asteroid. A movie she’d seen—it had been awful. Suddenly the action was interrupted by the logo of a local news station. A blond anchorwoman came on screen.
“Breaking news in San Francisco this hour. We have live pictures from the Marina district where a five-alarm fire is raging through a government housing project. We go now to Linda Chin, who’s on the scene.”
The scene switched to a dark-haired reporter.
“Regina, I’m here at Taylor Street, where firefighters are trying to prevent this spectacular blaze from spreading—”
Jez looked from the TV to Morgead. “What’s this got to do with the Wild Power? I saw it live. It happened a couple weeks ago. I was watching that stupid movie—”
She broke off, shocked at herself. She’d actually been about to say “I was watching that stupid movie with Claire and Aunt Nan.” Just like that, to blurt out the names of the humans she lived with. She clenched her teeth, furious.
She’d already let Morgead know one thing: that a couple of weeks ago she’d been in this area, where a local news station could break in.
What was wrong with her?
Morgead tilted a sardonic glance at her, just to show her that he hadn’t missed her slip. But all he said was “Keep watching. You’ll see what it’s got to do with the Wild Power.”
On screen the flames were brilliant orange, dazzling against the background of darkness. So bright that if Jez hadn’t known that area of the Marina district well, she wouldn’t have been able to tell much about it. In front of the building firefighters in yellow were carrying hoses. Smoke flooded out suddenly as one of the hoses sprayed a straight line of water into the flames.
“Their greatest fear is that there may be a little girl still inside this complex—”
Yes. That was what Jez remembered about this fire. There had been a kid….
“Look here,” Morgead said, pointing.
The camera was zooming in on something, bringing the flames in close. A window in the pinky-brown concrete of the building. High up, on the third floor. Flames were pouring up from the walkway below it, making the whole area look too dangerous to approach.
The reporter was still talking, but Jez had tuned her out. She leaned closer, eyes fixed on that window.
Like all the other windows, it was half covered with a wrought-iron screen in a diamond pattern. Unlike the others, it had something else: On the sill there were a couple of plastic buckets with dirt and scraggly plants. A window box.
And a face looking out between the plants.
A child’s face.
“There,” Morgead said.
The reporter was speaking. “Regina, the firefighters say there is definitely someone on the third floor of this building. They are looking for a way to approach the person—the little girl—”
High-powered searchlights had been turned on the flames. That was the only reason the girl was visible at all. Even so, Jez couldn’t distinguish any features. The girl was a small blurry blob.
Firefighters were trying to maneuver some kind of ladder toward the building. People were running, appearing and disappearing in the swirling smoke. The scene was eerie, otherworldly.
Jez remembered this, remembered listening to the barely suppressed horror in the reporter’s voice, remembered Claire beside her hissing in a sharp breath.
“It’s a kid,” Claire had said, grabbing Jez’s arm and digging her nails in, momentarily forgetting how much she disliked Jez. “Oh, God, a kid.”
And I said something like, “It’ll be okay,” Jez remembered. But I knew it wouldn’t be. There was too much fire. There wasn’t a chance….
The reporter was saying, “The entire building is involved….” And the camera was going in for a close-up again, and Jez remembered realizing that they were actually going to show this girl burning alive on TV.
The plastic buckets were melting. The firemen were trying to do something with the ladder. And then there was a sudden huge burst of orange, an explosion, as the flames below the window poofed and began pouring themselves upward with frantic energy. They were so bright they seemed to suck all the light out of their surroundings.
They engulfed the girl’s window.
The reporter’s voice broke.
Jez remembered Claire gasping, “No…” and her nails drawing blood. She remembered wanting to shut her own eyes.
And then, suddenly, the TV screen flickered and a huge wall of smoke billowed out from the building. Black smoke, then gray, then a light gray that looked almost white. Everything was lost in the smoke. When it finally cleared a little, the reporter was staring up at the building in open amazement, forgetting to turn toward the camera.
“This is astonishing…. Regina, this is a complete turnaround…. The firefighters have—either the water has suddenly taken effect or something else has caused the fire to die…. I’ve never seen anything like this….”
Every window in the building was now belching white smoke. And the picture seemed to have gone washed-out and pale, because there were no more vivid orange flames against the darkness.
The fire was simply gone.
“I really don’t know what’s happened, Regina…. I think I can safely say that everybody here is very thankful….”
The
camera zoomed in on the face in the window. It was still difficult to make out features, but Jez could see coffee-colored skin and what seemed to be a calm expression. Then a hand reached out to gently pick up one of the melted plastic buckets and take it inside.
The picture froze. Morgead had hit Pause.
“They never did figure out what stopped the fire. It went out everywhere, all at once, as if it had been smothered.”
Jez could see where he was going. “And you think it was some sort of Power that killed it. I don’t know, Morgead—it’s a pretty big assumption. And to jump from that to the idea that it was a Wild Power—”
“You missed it, then.” Morgead sounded smug.
“Missed what?”
He was reversing the tape, going back to the moment before the fire went out. “I almost missed it myself when I saw it live. It was lucky I was taping it. When I went back and looked again, I could see it clearly.”
The tape was in slow motion now. Jez saw the burst of orange fire, frame by frame, getting larger. She saw it crawl up to engulf the window.
And then there was a flash.
It had only showed up as a flicker at normal speed, easily mistaken for some kind of camera problem. At this speed, though, Jez couldn’t mistake it.
It was blue.
It looked like lightning or flame; blue-white with a halo of more intense blue around it. And it moved. It started out small, a circular spot right at the window. In the next frame it was much bigger, spreading out in all directions, fingers reaching into the flames. In the next frame it covered the entire TV screen, seeming to engulf the fire.
In the next frame it was gone and the fire was gone with it. White smoke began to creep out of windows.
Jez was riveted.
“Goddess,” she whispered. “Blue fire.”
Morgead ran the tape back to play the scene gain. “‘In blue fire, the final darkness is banished;/ In blood, the final price is paid.’ If that girl isn’t a Wild Power, Jez…then what is she? You tell me.”
“I don’t know.” Jez bit her lip slowly, watching the strange thing blossom on the TV again. So the blue fire in the poem meant a new kind of energy. “You’re beginning to convince me. But—”
“Look, everybody knows that one of the Wild Powers is in San Francisco. One of the old hags in the witch circle—Grandma Harman or somebody—had a dream about it. She saw the blue fire in front of Coit Tower or something. And everybody knows that the four Wild Powers are supposed to start manifesting themselves around now. I think that girl did it for the first time when she realized she was going to die. When she got that desperate.”
Jez could picture that kind of desperation; she’d pictured it the first time, when she’d been watching the fire live. How it must feel…being trapped like that. Knowing that there was no earthly help for you, that you were about to experience the most terrible pain imaginable. Knowing that you were going to feel your body char and your hair burn like a torch and that it would take two or three endless minutes before you died and the horror was over.
Yeah, you would be desperate, all right. Knowing all that might drag a new power out of you, a frantic burst of strength, like an unconscious scream pulled from the depths of yourself.
But one thing bothered her.
“If this kid is the Wild Power, why didn’t her Circle notice what happened? Why didn’t she tell them, ‘Hey, guys, look; I can put out fires now?’”
Morgead looked annoyed. “What do you mean, her Circle?”
“Well, she’s a witch, right? You’re not telling me vampires or shapeshifters are developing new powers like that.”
“Who said anything about witches or vampires or shapeshifters? The kid’s human.”
Jez blinked.
And blinked again, trying to conceal the extent of her astonishment. For a moment she thought Morgead was putting her on, but his green eyes were simply exasperated, not sly.
“The Wild Powers…can be human?”
Morgead smiled suddenly—a smirk. “You really didn’t know. You haven’t heard all the prophecies, have you?” He struck a mocking oratorical pose. “There’s supposed to be:
One from the land of kings long forgotten;
One from the hearth which still holds the spark;
One from the Day World where two eyes are watching;
One from the twilight to be one with the dark.”
The Day World, Jez thought. Not the Night World, the human world. At least one of the Wild Powers had to be human.
Unbelievable…but why not? Wild Powers were supposed to be weird.
Then she thought of something and her stomach sank.
“No wonder you’re so eager to turn her in,” she said softly. “Not just to get a reward—”
“But because the little scum deserves to die—or whatever it is Hunter has in mind for her.” Morgead’s voice was matter-of-fact. “Yeah, vermin have no right developing Night World powers. Right?”
“Of course right,” Jez said without emotion. I’m going to have to watch this kid every minute, she thought. He’s got no pity at all for her—Goddess knows what he might do before letting me have her.
“Jez.” Morgead’s voice was soft, almost pleasant, but it caught Jez’s full attention. “Why didn’t Hunter tell you that prophecy? The Council dug it up last week.”
She glanced at him and felt an inner shiver. Suspicion was cold in the depths of his green eyes. When Morgead was yelling and furious he was dangerous enough, but when he was quiet like this, he was deadly.
“I have no idea,” she said flatly, tossing the problem back at him. “Maybe because I was already out here in California when they figured it out. But why don’t you call him and ask yourself? I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.”
There was a pause. Then Morgead gave her a look of disgust and turned away.
A good bluff is priceless, Jez thought.
It was safe now to move on. She said, “So what do the ‘two eyes watching’ mean in the prophecy?”
He rolled his own eyes. “How should I know? You figure it out. You’ve always been the smart one.”
Despite the heavy sarcasm, Jez felt a different kind of shiver, one of surprise. He really believed that. Morgead was so smart himself—he’d seen that flicker on the TV screen and realized what it was, when apparently none of the adults in the Bay Area had—but he thought she was smarter.
“Well, you seem to be doing all right yourself,” she said.
She had been looking steadily at him, to show him no weakness, and she saw his expression change. His green eyes softened slightly, and the sarcastic quirk of his lip straightened.
“Nah, I’m just blundering along,” he muttered, his gaze shifting. Then he glanced back up and somehow they were caught in a moment when they were just looking at each other in silence. Neither of them turned away, and Jez’s heart gave a strange thump.
The moment stretched.
Idiot! This is ridiculous. A minute ago you were scared of him—not to mention sickened by his attitude toward humans. You can’t just suddenly switch to this.
But it was no good. Even the realization that she was in danger of her life didn’t help. Jez couldn’t think of a thing to say to break the tension, and she couldn’t seem to look away from Morgead.
“Jez, look—”
He leaned forward and put a hand on her forearm. He didn’t even seem to know he was doing it. His expression was abstracted now, and his eyes were fixed on hers.
His hand was warm. Tingles spread from the place where it touched Jez’s skin.
“Jez…about before…I didn’t…”
Suddenly Jez’s heart was beating far too quickly, I have to say something, she thought, fighting to keep her face impassive. But her throat was dry and her mind a humming blank. All she could feel clearly was the place where she and Morgead touched. All she could see clearly was his eyes. Cat’s eyes, deepest emerald, with shifting green lights in them….
; “Jez,” he said a third time.
And Jez realized all at once that the silver thread between them hadn’t been broken. That it might be stretched almost into invisibility, but it was still there, still pulling, trying to make her body go weak and her vision blur. Trying to make her fall toward Morgead even as he was falling toward her.
And then came the sound of someone kicking in the front door.
CHAPTER 11
“Hey, Morgead!” the voice was shouting even as the door went slamming and crashing open, sticking every few inches because it was old and warped and didn’t fit the frame anymore.
Jez had jerked around at the first noise. The connection between her and Morgead was disrupted, although she could feel faint echoes of the silver thread, like a guitar string vibrating after it was strummed.
“Hey, Morgead—”
“Hey, you still asleep—?” Several laughing, raucous people were crowding into the room. But the yelling stopped abruptly as they caught sight of Jez.
There was a gasp, and then silence.
Jez stood up to face them. She couldn’t afford to feel tired anymore; every muscle was lightly tensed, every sense alert.
She knew the danger she was in.
Just like Morgead, they were the flotsam and jetsam of the San Francisco streets. The orphans, the ones who lived with indifferent relatives, the ones nobody in the Night World really wanted. The forgotten ones.
Her gang.
They were out of school and ready to rumble.
Jez had always thought, from the day she and Morgead began picking these kids up, that the Night World was making a mistake in treating them like garbage. They might be young; they might not have families, but they had power. Every one of them had the strength to be a formidable opponent.
And right now they were looking at her like a group of wolves looking at dinner. If they all decided to go for her at once, she would be in trouble. Somebody would end up getting killed.
She faced them squarely, outwardly calm, as a quiet voice finally broke the silence.
“It’s really you, Jez.”
And then another voice, from beside Jez. “Yeah, she came back,” Morgead said carelessly. “She joined the gang again.”
