Flames in the Midst (The Jade Hale Series)

by Reckenwald, Sarah

  Flames in the Midst

  Sarah Reckenwald

  Copyright 2011. Sarah Reckenwald and its licensors, all rights reserved.

  Cover Art Designedby Musion Creative, LLC | musioncreative.com

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 1

  My first year on my own officially ended with my last exams earlier in the day. To celebrate, my friend and foster brother, Zach, threw a party at his apartment. To be truthful, Zach would throw a party for just about any reason. My final classes were just another excuse to fill his apartment with music and underage drinking. I arrived around ten and pushed my way into the living room. Sweaty bodies crowded the room, all grinding to the music in a mass of flesh and color. Several couples pressed themselves closer together than the rest. The music already screamed in my head, and I hadn’t even had a drink yet. I made my way to the kitchen bar, and Zach passed me a red plastic cup.

  “Jade! My latest creation!” he boasted above the roar of a hip-hop song I didn’t know.

  “What is it?” I yelled back. Zach just grinned, which meant I had to try it before he was going to tell me. I brought the plastic to my lips. The icy-cold mixture of rum, pineapple juice, and pureed berries swirled over my tongue. Even in the midst of a keg party, Zach had to be a health nut. I smiled.

  “Not bad!” I screamed, a little too loud since the song changed at exactly the same moment. The lull in the deafening beat lasted only a second, but I cringed at the volume of my voice.

  “It’s a rum and fruit smoothie!” Zach called out as he turned back to pour drinks for the girls gathered in the tight space around him. I left Zach to his following. The girls around him were all ordinary college girls. I sipped on my drink and sat down on the worn arm of the couch. The potent concoction tasted like a gourmet dessert. I felt like I had been watching the bodies dancing for only an instant when I realized I had emptied my cup. I sighed and decided one more would not be a bad thing tonight. I had been keeping my guard up for an entire year of living on my own. I could always crash on Zach’s couch if I couldn’t drive to my apartment. I had no pressing plans for that evening, or the weekend for that matter. I never did.

  I spotted Zach on the makeshift dance floor, in the center of three different girls, each with a cup like mine. Zach’s blond hair fell over his face just a little. Even though we were no longer near the ocean, he kept up the appearance of a sun-bathed surfer. I made my way to the blender and squeezed past a couple making out by the keg. The mixture did not look at all appetizing, a purple color on the verge of being brown. I poured the last drops into my cup and took a big gulp. The coolness went straight to my head as I realized this portion contained more alcohol than the last. Zach was probably looking out for me when he poured my drink. He knew I came here alone. He probably thought some guy might try to take advantage of me. Zach didn’t know just how capable I was of taking care of myself, and I preferred to keep him and everyone else in the dark about that.

  That was also why I lived solo in a tiny apartment. Crowded dorms really prevented a girl from having a completely private life. Zach and I were friends, but I didn’t have any others. I convinced myself friends would only complicate my life. Of course, I knew this concept contradicted my desire to be normal. The delicate balance of my life kept me on continual alert.

  By the time I finished my second cup, the colors on the dance floor began to blend together. The red cups mixed with auras of blue, gold, green, and pink. I thought I saw black in there as well, but it must have been the alcohol. A dark color like that would not make sense. On clothes, on furniture, on people, fine, but not in the air like that. I hadn’t seen a color that dark in the air since, well, it had been a very long time. I had been able to read people’s auras since I was very young, but no one knew about it. It wasn’t the kind of thing you used as a party trick, especially when you were trying to be normal. Besides, you couldn’t exactly prove a gift like aura reading. I just kept it to myself. Over the years, I had become pretty good at interpreting the colors I saw. Darker colors indicated a darker spirit—whether from depression or dark purposes was sometimes harder to tell, but when I factored in people’s body signals, speech and eye contact, I could generally figure it out.

  The two drinks flooding my system made it more difficult to distinguish which aura matched which person. I felt the alcohol going to my head, and it felt good to let go for once. Usually, I preferred not to drink at Zach’s parties, but I had made it through my first year with no catastrophes. Tonight, just this once, I could let loose.

  Despite the fact I abhorred the existence of my gift, it still could entertain me. I spent my free hours observing people’s auras. On the living room floor at Zach’s party, the colors continued to blend, the red cups streaking through them in the air. I didn’t see a black aura anymore, so I must have been wrong.

  I got up from the couch and almost stumbled over a girl sitting on the floor. She giggled and lifted her cup to her mouth in a clumsy arch, spilling half of her beer as she did so. I saw the red color of the cup flowing through the air as icy beer hit my leg, just above my sandaled foot. Yuck. I wiggled my toes in my now squishy sandal and thought about the pair of shoes I kept in Zach’s closet for when we went running together. I made my way to Zach’s room. He kept it locked during parties, but I knew where he hid the key in the tiny hall closet. On the top shelf, I found the key inside the Transformers washcloth folded and placed back towards the wall. I sometimes teased Zach about holding on to this remnant from his childhood, but really, I was jealous. I hadn’t held on to any remnants from my childhood.

  With a furtive look around, I unlocked the door. Another couple stood in a tangled knot, engrossed in each other’s lips nearby, but they didn’t notice as I replaced the key and slipped into the room. I locked the door behind me. As I expected, an empty room greeted me. I could hear the music reverberating through the apartment, slightly muted by the wall and the closed door. I took my soggy sandal off and then the dry one and threw them in the corner of Zach’s room, next to his dirty laundry. I grabbed my sneakers. No socks, but better than beer soaked sandals. I had no idea how important it was that I had a good pair of shoes on this particular night.

  As I bent down to lace the shoes, I felt strange. The laces seemed to have an aura of their own. Everything in the room seemed to have an aura and all of the auras were spinning and blending together. The blue of Zach’s laundry hamper shimmered and blended with the creamy gray of his carpet. The white of the closet doors flashed through the navy of his comforter. I had never felt this way before. My head pounded as dizziness made it impossible for me to stand. My skin felt clammy. I looked back down to concentrate on my shoelaces, but the floor beneath my feet concerned me. Zach’s room had wall-to-wall carpet, not asphalt. I put my hand down on the hard, black surface. I could feel the grit of the road and the dampness it had after a rain, but it had been a beautiful night without a cloud in the sky. Sprinklers maybe?

  Suddenly a piercing light shone in my face and a horn honked in warning. I looked up in time to see a shiny black mustang heading at me. I jumped out of the way, staggering from the feeling of vertigo.

  “Hey, baby! Looking good,” called
an obnoxious voice from the passenger side of the car. I could hear familiar music echoing from the windows, something from my past, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I quickly moved on to something I could put my finger on. I was now sitting on a concrete sidewalk in a shopping complex. Strange things had always been a part of my life, but never anything like this. Unsure if anxiety or the experience itself caused my reaction, I tried to steady myself before I could stand up. A wave of nausea overcame me, and I vomited a little onto the road.

  Wiping my mouth on the corner of my black blouse, I closed my eyes. I had a feeling I knew what was going on. I knew this place, but I didn’t want to look up. I stood in the middle of a nightmare. I had too much to drink, and I would look up and find myself back at the party in Zach’s apartment. Maybe I drank so much that I fell from the second story window, and I was really lying on a sidewalk, injured and delirious, with an ambulance on its way. That would be better than the reality I was about to live.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I willed the pain of the fall or the bass of the music in the next room. None of it came to me. Instead, I heard cars on a road nearby. I felt myself sitting on the pavement, not lying on the apartment complex sidewalk with blood oozing from my head, and certainly not sitting on the carpet in Zach’s apartment. I suspected this would happen one day, but I avoided trauma and danger simply so I could avoid this moment. I could only be in one place, only one time. Before I looked back up, I finished tying my shoelaces. The laces no longer had auras of their own. Everything seemed painfully ordinary.

  With a deep breath, I rose from the sidewalk and placed my hand on the concrete pillar next to me. Everything felt so real. The crisp, cool air did not feel like the late Florida Spring I had been in the midst of only moments ago. It was still Spring; I was sure of this, but it was a different Spring, in a different place and a different time. A time I did not want to face. This night, the night I had returned to, had changed that for me. This night changed my entire life.

  I stood up and turned around, looking at the strip mall with the storefronts and the bar and grill. All of the stores were closed, and the exterior bar lights were off. A faint glow streamed onto the pavement from a few cracks in the darkly tinted glass. Four doors covered the length of the bar and grill. The electric sign reading “The Professor’s Pub” hung ominous and dark. Although the bar was closed, I knew there were people inside. I took in the dark glass and the strange padlocks on the outside of three of the doors. I saw those padlocks in my nightmares—lying broken on the pavement in the charred remains of a fire I started. This place no longer existed, yet here I stood outside, contemplating whether or not to cross the threshold of the fourth door—the only one without the padlock, and the one closest to me. I knew the main entrance was the door furthest from me. I knew the people inside would be sitting at the bar directly across from the main entrance.

  “No.” I heard my own voice, small and weak. “No, no, no. I can’t be here. I need to go back.” Tears flowed down my cheeks, creating paths of mascara and salt.

  It was horrific to be in this position. I did not want to face what hid behind the dark glass. I did not want to face my past, and I did not want it to be a part of my future. What use had it been to live by myself and to avoid danger and trauma if I was destined to be called back to this moment in time anyway? This was the only traumatic and dangerous time in my life, and I was the one who caused the trauma. Why now?

  As I stood outside the very bar where my mother was killed, I tried to remember the rules of time travel. The gift of time travel had to be activated by a great traumatic event or danger. I could not avoid the trauma of my past. How old was I tonight? Just barely three. My mother and aunt had only just begun to introduce me into the mysterious world in which we lived. My first gift had been a part of my life for two years already, but I didn’t understand what it meant. I also didn’t understand I was different from other people. I vaguely understood that my gift made my father disappear. I couldn’t remember him, just strong arms and a musky cedar scent.

  What was the next rule? Your first journey in time travel has to be a trip back to your traumatic event. You have to be called there by your former self. I always thought it would be creepy to come to my own aide. I had no idea how that would work. Since I didn’t remember ever having seen myself, I assumed if I were lucky, time travel would not be among my secret hidden gifts. Standing outside this bar, I knew in an instant I had been wrong.

  I just want to go home. How can I get home? How can I get out of here?

  The third rule, once time travel has been activated, the witch will be able to travel through time somewhat freely. That was it. I knew I read more seven years ago, but I couldn’t remember the rest of the notes. What did “somewhat freely” mean? There must be some restrictions, but I couldn’t remember what they were. The main point was my time travel had been activated, so now I was free to travel. I didn’t have to go through that door. I wouldn’t have to see my mother and my aunt, their younger selves, sitting at the bar. I wouldn’t have to witness my mother’s death. I wouldn’t have to kill her all over again. There was no reason to put myself through such torment. I was fairly certain I could not change my past.

  Yet, my three-year-old self wanted help. There was no smoke coming from the building so she, I mean I, hadn’t started the fire yet. Why would I be calling for help already? How could I leave a three-year-old vulnerable to a danger strong enough to start my journey into the world of time travel? Was there something I was missing from this night? Could it be possible my aunt was correct…that I was not responsible for the tragedy of this night? There was only one way to be sure.

  If I didn’t want to know, I could keep walking past the unlocked door. I didn’t have to live through this again. It occurred to me that walking through the door might mean death.

  Wiping the tears from my face, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, opened my eyes, and stepped into a nightmare.

  Chapter 2

  Inside the bar, both my future and my past waited for me. The door to the bar resisted my efforts. It was not meant to be unlocked or used, but somehow, it was open. I pushed against it with all the force my trembling hands could bring forth, still uncertain if I wanted to face what my aunt had surely known all along was my destiny. I didn’t expect to hear the laughter drifting across the empty bar. As the door swung shut behind me, I peered through the stale smoke still hanging in the air from earlier in the evening. I began to make my way across the recently swept floor, between the tables stacked with old wooden chairs.

  As I got closer, I could make out six people sitting at the bar. A seventh person, the bartender, stood behind the bar, pouring drinks before the glasses emptied. He looked at me, his dark eyes piercing mine before anyone else realized I had joined the revelry in the room. He did not look surprised to see me there, and I wondered at this. He did not say anything or draw attention to my presence. He just continued to stare into my eyes. I did not realize I held my breath until I exhaled sharply. I was close enough now that my sounds and my movements interrupted the celebration at the bar. The immediate quiet filled the room with tension. My mother turned to look at me first. Her eyes betrayed her alarm.

  For an instant, I thought she recognized me, but then I remembered what I must appear to be. A room full of witches being approached by a stranger. If I didn’t say the right words, I would be taken for a Hunter or a Shadow Ruler, an enemy and an immediate danger. I did not know the skill level of these men and women, nor did I know the spells they might have ready on the tips of their tongues. My mother, however, was known as a powerful witch even after her death. I searched my memory for words I had never used, words for which I thought I would never have a use.

  “I am,” I began in a quivering voice, “a stranger seeking solace.” A knot in my stomach tightened. I wanted to cry again, to run from this place or to run to my mother and cling to her as if this were a nightmare I could wake from. The other witches at the ba
r turned and looked at me. I could tell from the looks in the eyes of the two closest to me they had no idea what I had just said. They must be Unknowns. Sometimes, a witch does not realize his or her abilities with no one to guide them. Families went into hiding after the witch-hunts of the 1600s, but some continued to teach each generation out of either a quest for power or a sense of responsibility to protect those who knew nothing of true good or evil. Other families went into hiding and stopped talking about their abilities and their family history. After a few generations, the abilities lay dormant and the people became oblivious to the world of which they were once a part. These were the Unknowns.

  My mother had the ability to find these people. She was in the midst of a battle between good and evil, and she needed to find more recruits. Some of them needed protection as well. My mother and my aunt were members of a group called the Guardians. They considered themselves guardians of mankind and, more specifically, of the Unknowns.

  My mother’s light brown eyes softened when she heard my words. She did not recognize me, but I had spoken a code indicating I was a witch looking for safety and protection. The words neither confirmed my allegiance to the Guardians nor to the Shadow Rulers, but they did indicate I was a witch in need of help, and not a Hunter. Experienced witches heard not only the words but also the intent behind them. If I had been a Hunter masquerading, if I had known the words but did not have the ability to back them up, they could have spotted me from across an arena at an American Idol concert. I could not have hidden what I was from them. I could hide if I was a Shadow Ruler, though, but after saying the words, I would not be able to cause harm to those accepting me during my refuge. The spell was binding.

  The woman closest to me looked jittery and terrified. She stared at me, gripping her glass in one hand and her bar stool with the other. Her knuckles were white and she inched back on her bar stool, closer to my mother. In the haze of the bar and the dim lighting, I couldn’t really make out anyone’s aura. It was strange, but I didn’t know how time travel really worked, so maybe I wouldn’t be able to read anyone’s aura tonight. Either way, I could tell she was no danger to me. She was scared and obviously new to this.