by A. L. Knorr
Chapter 13
The exhaustion of two international flights within three days caught up to me in the van on the way home. I fell asleep in the back seat within minutes of pulling out of the airport parking lot. Once we reached the house, it was all I could do to drag myself up to my room and collapse on my bed. But the downside of falling into bed before dinnertime was waking up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at four in the morning.
I opened my eyes in a dark room, on top of my covers and still wearing my clothes. I rolled off my bed, stood up, and stretched. My room was stuffy and hot. I went to open my window, tripping over my suitcase. I cranked the metal handle on my window and the hinges creaked as it opened.
The smell of smoke came in on the breeze and I inhaled more deeply, growing alarmed. The sky was dark, there was no sign of flickering light anywhere, but there was definitely fire somewhere outside. I took another sniff. It didn't have the scent of burning leaves or bonfire; it had the more acrid and rank smell of burning garbage.
I grabbed my phone and stuffed it in my shirt pocket. I took an elastic from my bedside table and raked my hair up into a ponytail as I padded silently down the stairs. The house was quiet, everyone asleep. I went into the kitchen to look out the large picture window. The back yard and beyond were also in darkness. I went to the foyer and jammed my feet in my sneakers, then went out onto the porch.
The night air was alternately sweet and humid, and then stinking of smoke as the wind shifted. I scanned the street as I went down our front walk to the sidewalk. There was still no sign of light or life anywhere—all the houses were dark. Where there is smoke, there's fire. So where's the fire?
I wandered down the sidewalk. There was no moon in the sky, and the only light came from the streetlamps along our street, illuminating circles of pavement, grass and parked cars. I passed the narrow alley that led to the park, and beyond that, a large patch of forest where the old MacLeitch farmhouse stood. That's when I finally caught the sight of flickering light. It was faint, and a smudge of smoke above it blocked out some of the stars. I chewed my lip, weighing my options. Finally, I began to jog down the alleyway. I passed through the park and into the bush.
The smell of smoke grew stronger. I took out my phone and dialed 911. When the voice on the other end of the phone asked what my emergency was, I said, "One of the abandoned buildings in Swallowtail Park is on fire."
"Is there anyone inside the building?" asked the woman on the other end.
"I don’t know, but I doubt it," I said. “Those buildings have been boarded up for years.”
"Where are you?"
"I'm in the park. I woke to the smell of smoke. I live in the suburb of Swallowtail."
"Are you anywhere near the building?"
"No, but I can see that it’s burning from the light and the smoke."
"Okay, good." She took my name and phone number and told me to go home, and that the police and fire department were on their way.
I ended the call and stood on the path leading toward the old MacLeitch farmhouse, hesitating. What was my responsibility here? Did I have any at all? I was a fire elemental, so what did that mean when I was faced with an actual fire?
I was standing there deliberating when I heard the high sound of female laughter. Or was it crying? My ears perked. It was coming from the same direction as the farmhouse. Was there someone in the building after all? My feet moved of their own accord, down the path and toward the rear of the old farmhouse.
The fire was in full view now, licking up through the gaping windows of the top floor. That strange keening sound came again and my hair stood on end all over my scalp. I had never heard a sound like it.
My heart throbbed as I approached the back yard of the house. An old falling down wooden fence half wrapped itself around the yard and I stepped over the rails lying in the undergrowth. Long stalks of grass brushed against my shins.
I stopped when I heard the sound again. This time I thought for sure it was not laughter. Someone was crying, and it was coming through the windows, from inside the house. My mouth went dry as powder at the thought of someone inside. How had they even gotten in there?
The boards covering one of the upper windows caught fire, and the crying sound stopped.
I ran toward the house and skidded to a halt just outside the back deck. I looked down at myself. If I went inside, my clothing would almost definitely go up in flames, and then what? The fire department would catch an un-singed, naked redhead scampering away from a no-longer burning building? Perhaps dragging a person out of the building? For a breath, I felt completely paralyzed. What to do? There was someone inside, I was the only person here, I was a fire mage, time was running out. Was this fire also lit by Calista? Was that her voice?
I glanced around, my nerves screaming at me to do something! I stopped thinking and just moved. It felt like I would imagine bungee jumping might feel, at a certain point, you have to stop deliberating and jump. I stripped off my clothes and stuffed them under a bush.
I called my inner fire to life. The familiar liquid heat rolled up and down my spine, promising power. My mage thoughts concluded that the best way to walk into a burning building naked was to become part of the fire, so I lifted my right hand and ignited a blue ball of flame, then allowed it to dwindle and become red. My eyes trailed up my forearm and the flames followed my vision, up to the crook of my elbow and beyond. When the fire hit my shoulder, I closed my eyes. With a sound like hot dry wind, I ignited my entire frame. I became a human torch, blazing with flames shooting skyward from the top of my head and shoulders.
I pulled off the boards covering the back door of the house and stepped through the gap, scanning for signs of life.
The heat that greeted me inside was intense. The air was full of cinders as dirty flames licked up the doorposts, across the lintels, and along floorboards. Furniture blazed in smaller bonfires, crackling and snapping. Though the heat around me would have cooked another human, it was nothing compared to the heat inside me. It was a new feeling, to have every inch of my flesh, every limb ignited. My fire crackled happily and seemed to want to elevate itself, become even hotter. I held it steady, my abdominal walls trembling slightly.
I crossed what used to be the living room and entered the kitchen, peering around. An exposed beam dropped partially from the ceiling with a loud creak.
It was when I passed from the kitchen to the front foyer of the house that I saw her. The sound of sirens in the distance barely penetrated my consciousness as I stared at the woman.
She was kneeling just inside the open front door. Her hair was so short that it looked like it had been shorn only a few weeks earlier. Her palms were up and her head was tilted back, and she was looking up the stairs at the flames that could be seen through the stairwell, licking along the spindles. She was sweating and her eyes were glassy and wide.
I was so shocked by the sight of her that I froze at the end of the hall. I received a double dose of shock when my eyes zoned in on the mage tattoo on the soft part of her shoulder. It was obviously not real—it was too big and too stylized to be a real mage mark. Where had she come across the symbol of my kind?
The flames of my own body made a fiery wall of heat in front of my vision as I stared at the kneeling woman who had to be Calista. The strangest sight came through to me. Overlaid against her face and head was black and white fuzzy static, like the snow on an old TV that wasn't working. I took a step back and squeezed my eyes shut, but when I opened them, the static was still there.
That strange keening sound came from her throat and jolted me back to life. We both had to get out of here.
"Hey! Calista!" I walked toward her, half forgetting that I was a flaming apparition. "You have to get out of here! What are you doing?"
Her strange eyes fell from the upper floor to me, and widened. Her mouth opened in a huge O and her hands flew to the sides of her face. The static overlaying her head hadn't gone away. It was then that I saw the can of fu
el and the lighter on the floorboards beside her.
Despite her shock at seeing me, she wasn't moving, wasn't getting up.
"Please, get up," I said.
When she didn't respond, I closed the gap between us and reached for her, dousing my fire from my hands and arms.
“Calista,” my voice sounded strange even to me, breathy, and hissing on the ‘s.’
At the sound of my voice saying her name and the sight of fleshly arms reaching from a flaming body, Calista screamed and jerked to her feet. Then she stumbled backward through the open farmhouse door, screaming all the while.
The lights of trucks and cars, sirens screaming and lights spinning, came flashing through the trees down the fire road that led through the park. Calista had fallen onto her back on the lawn and was propped up on her elbows, staring at me, terrified. My body was still ignited, and I couldn’t even imagine what I must have looked like to her. A burning body? A walking inferno?
As the police and fire vehicles halted just beyond the trees in the front yard and the voices of people shouting commands reached my ears, I turned and bolted back through the house.
My rescue mission had gone in a very unexpected direction, but at least Calista was out of the house and safe. She'd clearly lit the fire, and there was nowhere for her to go.
I flew out the back door and made a mad dash for my clothes. I hadn't any fear about walking into a burning building, but the fear of the police or fire department catching me made my knees feel week. I put my flames out and yanked on my clothes, breathless and feeling more than a little ridiculous.
Chapter 14
I was crawling through the evergreen trees at the back of the overgrown yard, pulling my t-shirt down over my hips, when a voice surprised voice said, "What are you doing here?"
I stood up so fast that I smacked my head on a tree branch and a bunch of dry needles showered down on me. A shadowy figure materialized just past the post of the old fence. I narrowed my eyes and took a few steps closer, rubbing the top of my head.
He had his arms crossed over his chest and his short hair was combed back. He wore a black zip-up hoody with black jeans. I probably wouldn't have even seen him if he hadn't spoken, the way he was camouflaged in the shadows.
Something about his face was familiar. The wind blew the cloud cover away from the moon and its cool blue light helped bring his features into focus. My eyes widened. "Gage? What are you doing here? You scared the crap out of me!"
I walked closer to him, my heart pounding—not just from the startle but from the fact that I didn't know how much he'd seen.
He dropped his crossed arms and the gesture struck me as surprised. At first, he didn't answer.
I thought for a second that maybe I'd remembered his name wrong, but no, I hadn't. It was too unique a name to forget.
"Where did you meet my brother?" His voice seemed heavy with suspicion. Of what, I didn't know.
I blinked as the puzzle fell into place. "At the soccer game less than a week ago. You must be Ryan. Gage didn't mention that you were twins." I stopped a few paces away and observed him in the moonlight. His features really were identical to Gage's, but there was something a little bit different. In the poor light, I couldn't put my finger on what it was.
He frowned and his eyes flashed to the burning building behind us. "You're not the arsonist, so what were you doing inside that dump?" He jerked his chin toward the burning house. The flashing lights of the sirens and the sounds of firemen working could be heard on the other side. His eyes widened. “Did you see her?”
“Your ex, you mean?” I said. “Yes.”
He gave a quick intake of breath and then bolted toward me. I had a mere moment to react when I realized he was heading for the house, and for Calista. I shot out an arm. My inner fire ignited inside my shoulder, elbow, and wrist, and I caught him across the chest, arresting his spring.
“What the—” Ryan snapped. “What are you doing?” He tried to tear away from me, but I locked my fingers around his wrist, my grip as firm as iron, my arm hot. His eyes found mine. Shocked. “Let go!”
“The police have already caught her, Ryan,” I said. “You hear those sirens?”
A frustrated frown crossed his face, making him ugly in the moonlight, but he relaxed.
I released him. "Get out of here before someone sees you and thinks you had something to do with this."
I started jogging down the narrow trail. Ryan fell into step behind me. My heart had slowed its thunderous pounding, but something about Ryan made me feel on edge. “I’m sorry for what she put your family through,” I said over my shoulder. “But it’s better to let the police handle it.”
Ryan didn’t answer, but I could hear his breath catch. In a hard voice, he asked, “What did my brother tell you?”
“Not much,” I replied. “Just that you broke up with her and she didn’t handle it well.”
"It's better for her that the police caught her," he said, his voice as cold as ice.
The hair on my forearms stood up as I caught his expression. We slowed to a walk.
"Why? What were you going to do with her?" I fought to keep my voice calm, but the desire to get away from this guy was mounting by the second. He gave off a completely different vibe from his twin.
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter now." He turned back and his cool eyes fell on me. "You still haven't said what you were doing in there." He slowed down his words and lowered his voice. "Without your clothes. And how did you…stop me like that?”
My mind skittered for an excuse until I realized that I didn't have to tell this guy anything. "It's none of your business," I said, coolly. "I'm going to head home. Have a nice night."
He put a hand on my shoulder and stopped me from walking, then he pulled me toward him.
"Take your hand off me," I said through clenched teeth, stepping back. The intent behind his touch reminded me so much of Dante that I shuddered. The idea of someone making my body do something I didn't want it to do just because he was bigger than me lit off anger inside me. I'd had my fill of forceful boys already in my life.
"Okay, okay, just chill," he said, holding his palms up. That's when I saw it. A mage mark, on the heel of his right hand where the skin of his palm met his wrist. It was a medium-brown, dark enough to see in the moonlight.
"You're a mage!" I blurted without thinking. “That’s where Calista knows the symbol from.” My heart had started pounding again. “She’s not a mage, but you are, and you gave up your secret. That’s why you were so intent on catching her before the police did. Is she going to give you away?”
His eyes went so big, I could see the whites of them. He took a step back and a flash of fear passed over his face. I watched him wrestle his shock under control.
He hissed, "How do you know what I am?"
I gave a sharp intake of breath, and my brain skittered over multiple things at once. Did I tell him I was one, too? How could there be another mage in Saltford? Basil had said we were rare, so what were the odds of there being two of us in the same town. No, wait...three?
"Does Gage have the fire, too?" I asked, rocked to my very core. Another thought crashed into my brain on the heels of the first few. "Are you the two new students at Arcturus?"
His jaw dropped and when the shock of being identified hadn't even yet passed, he looked even more astonished. He raked a hand through his hair, messing up its neat lines. "I—how do you—"
"Your mark gave you away," I said, almost feeling sorry for him. His complexion had lightened a few shades, and in the moonlight, he looked nearly vampiric. I probably didn't look far from it myself. “Do we have to worry about Calista spilling all kinds of mage secrets to the police?”
He looked down at his wrist, and then back up at me. Understanding began to dawn, finally, passing over his features like a sunrise. He looked at me with an entirely new expression—respect, delight.
"You're a mage," he said. He shook his head, staring at me, eyes wide.
“Keep up,” I snapped. “Calista? Is she a danger?”
“No, all right? No,” he barked back. “She won’t spill. I wanted revenge more than anything.” His voice softened and he shook his head. "I can't believe it. A fourth mage in Saltford," he crinkled up his face in disbelief. "This has to be some kind of a record."
"Four?" I said. "You know of two more?"
"We got it from our dad," he explained. "Actually five, right? One of your parents, also. Which parent did you get it from?"
"Neither," I said.
He cocked his head to the side, looking at me in disbelief. "You had to."
"No, I didn't. The fire was imposed on me." A chill wind blew over us just then, and as sure as I felt the hair lifting from my forehead, I felt a warning. I didn't want to tell Ryan my story. I couldn't explain why, but I shut my mouth and said nothing more.
"How is that possible?"
I turned away and began to walk toward home again. "It just is," I said.
"Can I see your mark?" He began to follow me, then caught up and walked beside me.
"I'd rather not," I said. "It's late. I'm exhausted. You should go home."
"You saw mine. Turnabout is fair play," his voice took on a wheedling tone.
"I saw yours by accident, and I don't really care about what’s fair," I replied, keeping my tone as neutral as I could manage it.
"What were you doing in that house? Were you trying to put out the fire? Because it takes a lot of skill to do that." His words took on a slightly holier than thou tone. "How old were you when you got the fire, then? I was born with it."
"Good for you." I kept walking, but as my street got closer, I realized that I didn't really want to lead Ryan to my home, so I crossed over my intersection and kept walking farther from home instead of closer.
Now I had a different problem. Ryan showed no signs of leaving me alone.
"How do you know Basil?" he continued.
