by A. L. Knorr
My parents’ eyes flashed to Jack and then back to me.
"You know? He knows?" Mom said. "Why would you have told Jack and not us?"
RJ, who had said nothing so far, finally said, "The suspense is killing me, here. Can we please let the woman talk?"
"Thank you, RJ. And no." I shot Jack a glare. "Jack doesn't know; he's been misjudging me since I got home."
Jack snorted. "Here we go. And I thought we were going to get the truth."
"You are," I said, my face flushing with anger.
"Oh really?" Jack shot back, his voice rising.
"What is going on here?" Mom said.
"Saxony is the arsonist," Jack blurted, his hostile gaze not leaving mine.
I closed my eyes and slumped in my seat. So much for avoiding drama.
"What?!" Dad yelled, his horrified expression turning on me.
"No, I'm not," I said, slowly and deliberately. "I would never do that."
"Saxony," Mom whispered, eyes wide and frightened.
RJ leaned his elbows on the table and put his chin in his hands. His gaze moved around the table from face to face.
"Would you all just listen to me for a min—"
"To whatever lies you're about to tell?" Jack got up from the table. "I don't want dessert. Sorry, Mom."
Frustration finally boiled over. I stood up, thrust my hand out, palm up. A red flame flared up from my hand, illuminating everyone's faces. "Sit down, Jack," I said, biting off the words.
Mom gasped and leaned back away from the fire, eyes wide, face white. Dad let out a few choice curse-words which I'd never before in my life heard him utter. RJ stared at the fire, body frozen. Jack stepped back, knocking over his chair. It was the fear in my family’s faces that put the flame out, not my choice.
"I'm sorry," I said, immediately regretful. "I'm sorry, please." I put my hands out to Jack. "Please, sit down. Let me explain everything. I am not the arsonist." Each beloved face was staring and fearful. They were afraid. Of me. "Jack," I whispered, my eyes pleading. "Please sit down."
At first, he didn't move. But slowly, he picked up his chair and sat down.
"I beg you to let me get through this. And I'm sorry that I've butchered the job so far," I began, sitting down. I took a drink of water, hoping to snub the headache threatening in my temples. "It all began when I met Isaia..."
No one said a thing as I told the story. I didn't leave anything out, not even the forced burning, or my debt to Enzo. I had to give away Elda's secret affair, but under the circumstances I felt it had to be included or the whole story wouldn't make any sense. I concluded with my call to Basil Chaplin and his school for mages.
“Mr.Chaplin said that I could live a good life with the fire, and that Arcturus was there to help," I finished.
My voice was even more hoarse than usual. I stopped talking for the first time in nearly an hour. The looks of shock, fear, concern, and incredulity on my family’s faces had only grown. I cleared my throat and downed the rest of the water in my glass. My hands trembled so I put the glass down.
"Please, say something," I said, looking at my parents.
My mom put her face in her hands, her elbows on the table.
Dad put an arm around her. His face was completely white around his mouth. Mom gave a sob, and her shoulders heaved.
"Mom?" I put a hand on her shoulder. My own eyes filled with tears. I hated to see my mother cry.
She sat up, face anguished. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into her, kissing my hair. "My poor baby," she said. "We could have lost you."
Dad wrapped his arms around my mother and me. I inhaled her lilac scent, tears rolling down my own cheeks, but now with relief. They believed me. My story was unbelievable, really. But when someone produces a flame from their hand in front of your face, what choice do you have but to believe what they say?
The sound of chair legs scraping against the floor made me open my eyes and I caught RJ getting up from the table and coming around to join the huddle. He wrapped his arms around my dad, and his big warm hand fell on my arm and squeezed it. I peeked out to find Jack, but I couldn't see him through the tangle of arms around me. The tears flowed freely then, but from pure gratitude for my amazing, loving family. We stayed huddled like that until the only sounds were hiccups and sniffs. Then everyone broke and found their seats again.
That was when I realized Jack was gone. I frowned at his empty seat, heart pounding. What had he thought? Why had he just gotten up and left without saying anything?
Mom grabbed a tissue box from the counter and put it on the table. She blew her nose and wiped her face. "That certainly explains your fever," she said through the tissue.
"And her voice," said Dad.
"I wouldn't have believed it if you hadn't already shown us," said RJ, shaking his head. "I mean, who knew? Fire magi?"
"Where did Jack go?” I asked. Surely he didn't still think I was the arsonist.
"He's just in shock,” said Dad. “Give him time.”
"Aren't we all," added Mom. "Why didn't you tell us about this when it happened, Saxony?" She turned hurt eyes on me and they raked my heart.
"I didn't know how to," I explained. "And I knew you'd make me come home right away, and I didn't want to."
"Of course we would have!" she cried. "I can't believe you weren't honest with us."
"I was trying to protect you," I said.
"It's our job to protect you," said Dad, his face hard. The color had returned to his cheeks but there was an angry slash between his brows that hadn't been there before. "We need to talk with Elda about this."
"Why? It wasn't her fault! It's not even Isaia's fault—he's just a little kid.” After a long pause, where nobody else spoke, I whispered, “I think I was supposed to get the fire."
My parents stopped talking and both stared at me. The reality of what I had just admitted sank in, and I grew still inside.
"It's my destiny," I said.
Fresh tears trickled down Mom's face and she brushed them away. "Your destiny? Saxony, you were sabotaged. A normal life was stolen from you."
"Aren't you overreacting a bit?" RJ said. "I mean, she's a miracle. She can make fire. She's like a superhero or something."
"Actually, I think I'm more like an elemental," I said.
"Right," he said, and his eyebrows shot up. He nodded and gave me a fist-bump. "That makes way more sense, actually."
Mom skewered my brother with a look. "RJ, could you leave us alone to talk with your sister?"
RJ shrugged his heavy shoulders and got up. "It's rad you didn't die, Sax."
I smiled at my goofy, kind brother. "Thanks, RJ."
"Talk later," he said as he left the kitchen.
"So, this Mr. Chaplin," Dad began.
"Yeah." I turned back to my parents. This was the point of the conversation and the whole reason I had chosen to tell them. The goal was to get to Arcturus as soon as possible.
"What is it he’s going to teach you?"
"Don't be ridiculous, James," my mother interrupted. "We're not going to send our daughter to England to go to fire school. We're going to consult a specialist and find a way to cure her of this."
"What?" I cried. "You have to let me go to England! There is no way to get rid of it, trust me. I already looked into it. I'm not going to learn how to be a proper mage anywhere else. And besides—" I snapped my mouth shut. I hadn't yet told them everything Basil had said.
"Besides, what?" Mom narrowed her eyes.
I took a breath. No point in leaving anything out now. "He said that there are organizations who look to recruit people like me. Supernaturals. The way Dante did."
Her eyes went so wide, I could see the whites of them. "Recruit them to do what?" She grabbed Dad's hand and they both squeezed so hard their knuckles turned white.
"I don't know, jobs that only someone with fire can do, I guess. Same reason Enzo had hired Nicodemo." My voice trailed off.
"You want a job as a fi
re thug for a corporation?" Mom looked horrified.
"No, of course not. I didn't say that." I twisted my hair, nervously. "Mr. Chaplin said that sometimes these corporations are not the most ethical..."
"They would blackmail you?" My mom's voice had gone up an octave and my dad was looking ill. This was a lot for a couple of Saltford parents.
I spread my hands. "I don't know exactly, but maybe, yes. At Arcturus, I can learn how to protect myself from these corporations, stay off their radar."
My mom flashed terrified eyes at my dad. "How did this happen?" She ran both hands through the hair at her temples and pulled it back from her brow in frustration. "I feel like I've gone insane. James!"
"It's all right," my dad said. His expression said it was anything but. One of the things that cut me deeply was his look of helplessness. My dad was always in control, always. But right now, that control had slipped and he didn't know what this meant for his daughter, for his family.
"We should never have let you go to Venice," Mom said. She covered her face. Through her fingers, she said, "We're the worst parents in the world."
"No, Mom." I let out a sound of frustration. "None of this had anything to do with you. I'm glad you let me go. Maybe I wasn't when I was burning up in that cell…"
"Oh, God," she moaned. She slid her chair back and put her head between her knees.
"But I'm glad now," I added hastily. "I feel more like me than I ever have."
Mom sat up, hair frazzled, face red. She put a hand out. "I need some time," she said. "Saxony, would you mind giving your dad and me some privacy?" She held up a piece of shredded tissue to her nose and a clump of it broke off and fell into her lap.
"But—"
"It’s a lot to take in, Saxony," Dad said softly. "It's all right, we're not angry. Thank you for telling us. Your mom and I just need to talk, and I think we all need a good night's rest to gain some perspective. We'll discuss this again tomorrow."
I looked from one stressed out, anxious expression to another and nodded. "Okay. But please, just consider the benefits that Arcturus could offer me. I need it. I—"
Mom put a hand on my arm. "Tomorrow, Saxony. I can barely think." Her eyes misted up and she grabbed another tissue.
I sighed, resigned. "Tomorrow." I got up and was halfway through the kitchen when the sound of chair legs scraping against the floor made me turn around. My mom's arms swallowed me up in a bear hug and she squeezed me so hard the breath wheezed right out of me.
"I love you, Saxony," she whispered.
"I love you too, Mom." I squeezed her back.
Chapter 8
Dinner the next evening began as a tense, quiet affair. Jack’s seat was noticeably empty.
“Where’s Jack?” I asked as I poured a round of waters for my parents, RJ and me. “I haven’t seen him all day.”
He hadn’t answered any of my texts either, but I left that part out.
Mom and Dad shared a look. “He went to Zack’s for the evening.”
I frowned. “Does he still think I’m the arsonist? Even after I explained everything?”
“Give him time,” said RJ before shoveling a forkful of mashed potato into his mouth. “Dude’s freaked out.”
My mom looked pale and drawn, and it seemed as though the lines on the sides of my father's mouth were deeper. My heart ached for them and a twang of guilt went through me. They sure hadn't asked for this, but neither had I. And it wasn't like I had contracted cancer or some other horrible disease. There were families dealing with much worse things than we were.
As we were cleaning up our dessert dishes, Dad finally spoke. "RJ, would you let your mom and me have a bit of time with Saxony, please?"
"You got it, Pops," said RJ, giving a nod and an enigmatic close-mouthed smile.
"Take your plate, please," my mom added.
RJ took his dish and even grabbed the leftover food from the table. Then he came back for the rest of the dishes.
My mom mouthed, "Wow," at my dad. It was normally agony for either of my brothers to have to clean up after a meal, but here RJ was doing it without being asked. It was a testament that he realized how stressed my parents were and how serious the situation was. I smiled my appreciation at him.
As RJ disappeared into the basement, my dad threaded his fingers and rubbed his palms together. This gesture was classic James Cagney preparing himself for a difficult conversation. "We were up all night, Saxony," he began. "Your mother and I."
"I'm sorry," I said.
"It's all right, this isn't your fault," he replied. "But we spent hours researching online and we couldn't find anything about your condition. Nothing that wasn't part of gaming or fantasy stories anyway." His mouth turned down. "It seems that pyro-kinesis has never been proven to be a real thing, but you"—he scratched his head absently—"can easily prove that it is. Unless that flame you made in your palm was some sleight-of-hand you perfected while you were away in order to play some kind of joke on us." He looked at me hopefully. "We won't be angry if it was—just be honest."
"It's not a joke," I said. I wanted to explain that what I had wasn't as simple as pyro-kinesis either, the fire inside me seemed at times to be its own entity. At least, it had in Venice before I’d been trapped in a cell with no water. After that, it felt more like a part of me and not a potential enemy.
He nodded and cleared his throat. "No, I suspected not. We were just hoping. Anyway, your mom and I would like to arrange a conference call with this Basil fellow over in England. Seems he might be our only source of information."
My heart gave a thud of hope. This was heading in the right direction. "Okay." I took out my phone. "Want me to call him right now?"
"It's ten-thirty in the evening in England right now, sweetheart," Mom said.
"Maybe it's best we get this over with," Dad said at the same time. My parents looked at each other. "This is what he does," Dad said to Mom, softly. He looked at me. "It's worth a try. If he doesn't answer, we'll try again tomorrow."
I nodded and hit dial on my phone and put it to my ear. The long dash of an international call sounded once and the phone clicked.
"Miss Cagney?" It was Basil.
"That was quick. Did I wake you?"
"Not at all. I'm pleased that you called back so soon. Have you spoken with your family?" His voice was hopeful, expectant.
"I have, and actually I have both of my parents here with me. We're hoping you have time to speak with us. Is that possible?" I smiled at my parents, hoping I looked reassuring. A lot was riding on this conversation.
"Yes, yes!" His voice perked up even more. "I would welcome the opportunity."
"Okay, I'm going to put you on speaker phone," I gave my parents a thumbs up.
A complicated look flashed between my parents: anxious, concerned, hopeful.
I pressed the speakerphone button and said, "Okay, you are live, sir." I put the phone down in the middle of the table.
No one said anything.
After a prolonged pause, Basil's voice came from the phone. "Hello?"
My dad cleared his throat. "Mr. Chaplin? It's James Cagney. Saxony's father."
"Yes, Basil Chaplin here. Pleased to meet you."
"Thanks. My wife, Annette, and I are both here and…" Dad took Mom's hand. "We're not doing very well with what we've learned about our daughter."
My heart sank.
"Understandable," said Basil.
"Saxony has told us a little bit about what you do, but not very much. And I guess—" Dad paused.
"You'd like to know more about how I can help your daughter," offered Basil.
"Yes, exactly."
"And you, Mrs. Cagney? How are you doing?"
My parents shared a look of appreciative surprise that he'd asked after my mom specifically. It was like he'd been through this before or something. The butterflies in my stomach began to settle. Basil's voice emitted confidence and empathy. It felt like we were dealing with a professional.
"Mr. and Mrs. Cagney," said Basil, not unkindly, "I understand you're in shock and you're upset. That is all perfectly understandable. I am here to help, and I believe the best way I can do that is by not mincing words. As far as we are aware, there are only two ways for the fire inside your daughter to go out." I could almost picture him holding up a finger as he spoke. "When she dies." I pictured a second finger joining the first and I knew exactly what words would accompany it. "Or it can be passed on to another individual if she is dying. That's it. Other than those two events, neither of which are desirable, there is no cure."
After several long seconds, my father answered. "That's what our daughter told us."
"She's correct."
"So, what's next then?" asked Mom. Her voice was heavy. Defeated. Her eyes had misted up and the corners of her mouth turned down. My heart gave a painful ache at the look on her face.
"This is where I come in. Before I explain any more though, I'd like to see Saxony light a small flame. It's the final step before I'll talk about Arcturus any further."
My parents both looked at me. I picked up the phone and switched on the video. A clean-shaven face in black spectacles appeared. Basil was an attractive older gentleman, with a wide mouth bracketed by deep smile lines.
"Hello, Mr. Chaplin." I smiled into the camera.
Basil nodded and smiled back. "Hello, Saxony." He gave a nod and his wave of brown hair flopped elegantly onto his forehead. "Go ahead, please."
I lifted my hand in front of the camera so my fingers were visible, and pushed a small flame out the tip of my finger.
"Thank you," said Basil. "Good enough. You can turn off the video if you like."
"No, please." Mom got up and grabbed a mug from the cupboard. "Leave it on. I'd rather see your face."
"If you prefer." Basil smiled.
I felt that same feeling of a bond forming as I looked at his face. I had felt it when I’d first seen his name printed in foil on the business card, again when I had spoken to him for the first time, and I felt it growing now just talking with him.
