“No,” I muttered. “You don’t.”
My trembling fingers hovered over the residual heat and light the Hellfire had imprinted on the ground.
“It’s ancient,” Detective Rashid remarked. The motion of my hand kicked up the ash and I gave an involuntary shiver. “You can feel how old it is. That’s our arsonist. Took me longer to track it here. I don’t know why. From everything I’ve seen and read, there was a lot of Hellfire here. And taking into account the homicide involved, the signal should’ve been stronger than this. It should’ve looked more like yours, Nix.” She flicked the spent match into the dirt, stood up, and buried it with the toe of her boot.
“Any idea why?” Jodi asked.
“I can’t say for sure.” She dusted off her hands on her jeans. “I’m working on a theory though. Whatever incendiary did this, they could’ve hid themselves. I mean, to me it looks like they tried to wipe their fingerprints from the scene, metaphorically speaking.”
I pulled myself up from the ground, wincing, and found Jodi’s gaze. “Can they do that?”
“There isn’t a lot they can’t do,” Jodi said. “I’ve never heard of it, but anything’s possible.”
The residuals started to fade from view back to the ash they’d leached out of. Standing there with the smell of wood smoke and scorched earth still in my senses, I recalled a fragment from the night of the fire. It had yet to float away into the scattering of trauma I’d eventually block out.
“Detective,” I called. Detective Rashid turned from Jodi, her attention settling on me. “There is something…it might’ve been too faint for you to pick up. I don’t feel it here anymore. But before the fire broke out, when Moretti and I were doing our primary search, I sensed someone else’s power. Or I think I did. It wasn’t like whatever the incendiary gave off. It was almost like…”
Her manicured eyebrows pulled together. “You can tell me.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “A warning, maybe.”
“I only found two signatures,” she confirmed. “I’ll dig into it, though. If we can track down another witness, that’ll help our case.” Her eyes were soft, understanding without pity. Her hand settled on my arm, then it was gone, her wrist tilted up to her sightline. A watch hidden under her jacket sleeve caught the midday sun. “I’ve got another scene to check out, so unfortunately I have to get going.”
She moved toward the sidewalk and Jodi and I followed. “It was good to finally meet you, Nix, though I wish it’d been under better circumstances. Jodi has my number, so you can call or text if you remember anything else that you think I should know about that night. You take care of yourself, okay?”
I ducked my head again. “Thanks for the help.”
“See you, Jodi,” she called before disappearing into the matte black SUV.
Jodi was leaning against the driver’s side door of the PFFD vehicle, arms crossed, as I finally wandered over and left the singed ruins of the house behind me. I hoped it would be the last time I’d have to come here.
She must’ve noticed the way my shoulders had drooped. “It’s a lot to digest, I know,” she said. “It’s not going to get any easier. I wish I could tell you otherwise, but I’d rather be honest with you. You’re part of this world now whether you want to be or not. You always have been. It just took you a while to see it.”
That sounded like a preface to something. “What do you want from me, Lieutenant?”
“You could be a really valuable asset,” she said. “And you could do a lot of good here.”
“Work for the PCU? I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. I’m just a firefighter—”
“Incendiaries aren’t the PCU’s problem. We’re just lucky to have a woman like Zahira in our corner. I need people willing to do the work they won’t touch. You can learn,” she countered. “You’re stronger than you realize, you know. Don’t sell yourself so short.” Jodi let the silence settle for a moment, unspoken words filled in by the rush of traffic. “Your parents were never just firefighters either. Where do you think you got all that power from?”
“What?” The question barely got above a whisper. My jaw dropped a little, though I should’ve known she’d been keeping secrets. How else would a stranger have full-named me like that from the moment we met? “You knew them?”
She tucked her chin toward her chest and avoided the flash of hurt that screwed up my face. “We worked together. We were part of the same team,” she answered. “Fire investigation, so to speak, of the demon kind. That was before—way before the PCU. Things were dangerous then, but they’re even worse now.”
“Jesus.” I dragged my fingers through my hair and took a few steps back. “How long were planning on holding that little secret over my head?”
“It’s not really my story to tell,” Jodi said. “The abridged version is the one you grew up with, the one your aunt and I agreed on to keep you safe. But nowhere is safe anymore. This is your fight now just like it was theirs. We need your help, Phoenix. That power you have in you is one of the few things capable of freeing this city. It has to end here or it’ll never get better. Not for you or for Moretti’s son.”
I shot her a glare. “That was low.”
“It’s the truth.”
“And what if I don’t want any part in this?”
Jodi shrugged. “You’re already in this.”
I hated that I couldn’t disagree with her.
7
The last rays of the evening sun held the line against a thunderstorm on the horizon, the sky a mix of bright yellow fading into pale blue. Low clouds hung in the distant skyline, gunmetal grey, furious and expectant. One of those rare, cool breezes glided across the porch, making the petals in the hanging baskets flutter. A couple houses down, a wind chime jingled, tinny, melodic, heralding the oncoming storm. I sprawled across a couch nestled toward the back of the house on the curve of the wraparound porch in a loose T-shirt and cotton shorts.
Over the years, I’d found that this couch—and the large wraparound porch had two—was not only the coziest, but also the most optimal spot for catching a nighttime breeze that wasn’t bogged down with humidity. The dented cushions had been broken in a long time ago. I laid on my back, one arm tucked under my head, my other hand skirting the whiskey bottle on the floor next to me. The expensive one I’d opened earlier. I figured I’d just buy a new bottle and maybe Aunt Meg would forgive me. She owed me secrets, anyway. The booze seemed like a fair price in the end.
By the time Aunt Meg moseyed on over, my head was floating, a satisfying buzz spreading through my limbs that felt a hell of a lot better than the raging wildfire I’d awoken in my blood. That sweet, damp earth scent blossomed in the air, a slow and gentle rain beginning to patter against the roof.
“And now I know where my whiskey wandered off to,” Aunt Meg said. “How are you holding up, ladybug? We missed you at dinner.”
I shrugged. I wasn’t exactly angry at her for keeping so many secrets from me this late in life. The city was dangerous enough, and she’d been young when she took guardianship of me and overall, I’d been better for it. She’d done it to protect me. But Jodi had been right, too. I couldn’t afford to run away from this anymore.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t allowed to be frustrated and upset. The world around me kept changing so fast that it felt like I’d lived two different lifetimes since the night of the fire. The moment I needed to process and breathe seemed to escape me every time I thought I’d finally caught up.
“It’s been a bit of a day,” I said. “I went down to headquarters—”
“You went into the city?” she asked. “You’re supposed to be resting.”
“And you know me. I can’t just sit around being useless.” I drained the rest of the whiskey I’d poured into a chipped ceramic mug, the bottle still half full and sitting next to the couch on the whitewashed floorboards. “Speaking of, fire investigation was no help whatsoever, but I met someone who was.” I eyed Aunt Meg careful
ly as she lowered into a cushy armchair opposite the couch. “Lieutenant Jodi McGuire. She works in fire investigation. Said she knows you. We had a very long and…weird conversation.”
“Vic…” she sighed.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”
“If we’re gonna have this talk now, I’m going to need you to share that whiskey.” I poured a little more into my mug before shoving the whole thing into her hands. Aunt Meg took an impressive pull from the bottle. “Shit, I forgot how good that is.”
Another sip and Aunt Meg exhaled. “I knew when Jodi came to the hospital the night you were rushed in that we’d be having this conversation sooner rather than later. I’m not good at explaining how that world works, to tell you the truth. It might be for the best that she found you first. I tried to keep it away from this house for as long as I could, to keep you safe. Never saw it up close until my brother—your father—got involved.”
“Do you…” I lowered my voice. “Are you a pyromancer like he was?”
“I had my power bound after we lost your parents,” she said. “I didn’t want it. Not after that. Never used it much anyway. Your power never manifested, Vic, and that’s why everything stayed a secret. I never thought it’d show. I spent so much of your life hoping it wouldn’t because I saw what kind of Hell it was for your father. ‘Til now, I thought we were in the clear.”
I nodded. “And what about Levi and Alexa? Are their powers bound, too?”
“I’ll give them the choice if they ever show up. They’ll be having this talk soon enough, I guess, too,” Aunt Meg said. “Less of a chance because their dad doesn’t have any. You know that’s the real reason why he left? I tried to have a civil conversation about the possibility that his kids could manifest powers and he got spooked. Packed his bags, didn’t even have the decency to leave a note. It wasn’t my fault. He knew what this city was like.”
“Fuck him.”
“My thoughts exactly.” Aunt Meg laughed. “It takes a certain kind of person to live in this place.”
We sat listening to the rain hitting the pavement, skittering over the roof as the storm picked up. The bruised clouds rolled in, a sluggish, growling rumble of thunder still miles away from the house. Sleep would probably be nothing but a thought tonight if the thunderstorms continued. I could only imagine how the lightning and noise would wreak havoc on my nightmares. It took me a while to summon the courage to ask what had been racing around my mind as soon as I’d learned my parents were once incendiary-hunting pyromancers. By then, the thunder had crept closer, sheets of rain creating a torrent of water like a curtain draped over the porch. The earth trembled under the onslaught.
“How did it happen?” I competed with the storm. “Jodi said my mom and dad were more than firefighters, right? I always thought they were killed on the job.”
“They were,” Aunt Meg said. Quiet, drowned out by the cascading rain. “That part’s always been true.”
“But the department doesn’t let married couples serve in the same firehouse,” I reasoned. “It happened outside the job, didn’t it? It had to. Jodi mentioned they’d put together a team to fight the incendiaries.”
She took a long drink from the bottle. “Please don’t ask me to dig that up again,” she answered. “I can’t. Not tonight. I know I owe you the truth, and you’ll get it, but not right now. You’re already grieving enough as it is.”
I wanted to protest, but Aunt Meg held up the bottle. “And what’s Jodi want out of this, anyway? Whatever she’s told you—whatever she wants you to do—you don’t have to follow her orders. You need time, Vic.”
“We don’t have it,” I said. “Moretti’s killer is still out there.”
“You need to let yourself recover and heal,” she insisted. “You’re not back to a hundred percent yet.”
“Everything’s different now. I mean, I don’t even know if I can go back on the job. The city’s changed for me. If I can do something that’ll help, then maybe that’s what I should be doing.”
She didn’t look at me, her attention pulled toward the rain pouring down from the roof. “I knew she’d fill your head with this stuff.” A brief, sad smile flittered across her lips. “You’re just like your father.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“Yes and no. He was a stubborn bastard with a good heart, too.” She got to her feet, pushing the bottle of whiskey with its dwindling contents into my chest. “I just don’t want that to get you in the same trouble it got him. I cannot…will not do that again.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious.”
“I’m serious, Victoria.” Her hand came to rest on my shoulder. “I can’t really tell you what to do anymore, but I think you’re rushing into this. You need to allow yourself the time to think it over. Get out of the city and clear your head, take a vacation somewhere thousands of miles away from here. Anywhere.” She pleaded with me, her blue-gray eyes tired, on the verge of bloodshot. “I hear Iceland’s pretty cool.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“You do that.” She gave my shoulder a squeeze before disappearing around the corner of the porch.
Somehow, we both knew that wasn’t going to happen.
“You’re sure I can’t give you a ride?”
Aunt Meg stood on the bottom step leading up to the porch, one hand resting on her hip, car keys clanging against the spare change in her jeans pocket. Alexa was above her on the landing, the tangled white cord of her earbuds draped around her neck, while Levi sat on the stairs, barefoot and sleepy from his mother’s abrupt wakeup call at noon. I decided to skip out after lunch now that my seventy-two hour recuperation/mandatory house arrest had ended. I even ate some fresh fruit, which seemed to appease both my stomach and Aunt Meg’s constant worry about my post-incident eating habits. Or lack thereof.
She insisted on gathering my cousins to send me off, though Levi looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else, preferably back in bed. It wasn’t any indication of whether he liked me or not—he did, but he’d also hit that toxic age where expressing feelings was considered gross—it was just his usual mood.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll take the bus.”
Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Suit yourself, I guess.”
She maneuvered around my duffle bag and the Tupperware container I’d tucked underneath my arm so she could hug me. The clear plastic tub had been lovingly filled to absolute capacity with the chocolate chip and M&M cookies she baked early this morning. Aunt Meg held me tight, arms wrapped around my shoulders, her chin brushing the top of my head like she already knew I’d made my decision about where I was supposed to be.
“Thank you.”
It seemed impossible to distill everything she’d done, everything she’d been through in the past couple weeks down to a simple thank you, but I knew she understood.
“Be careful. I mean it.” The words held a weight heavier than just her concern about me getting from the suburbs into the city. “And text me when you get home.”
“I will.”
Alexa and Levi chimed in with their goodbyes as I started down the driveway, the puddles from last night’s soaking rain not yet evaporated by the day’s heat. Adjusting the duffle bag hanging off my shoulder, I turned onto the sidewalk, the body pain still trickling through my muscles despite a full dose of meds.
“Take it easy,” Aunt Meg warned from somewhere behind me. I knew she had regrets about not making my stay at the house longer. And not imposing stricter rules about excursions into the city. But this would’ve caught up with me eventually, anyway. “Don’t push yourself too much. I know you, Vic.”
“Got it, Aunt Meg.” I lifted a hand as I walked away, a well-meaning goodbye as I headed for the nearest bus stop.
The bus spat me out in a plume of acrid exhaust at the edge of The Raze—the nickname we locals gave to the historic district. A holdover from the great fire that once reduced the original village to ashes, it was officially known to tour
ists as Historic Perdition Falls or the Cobblestone District depending on who you asked. Cars were rendered useless in The Raze. Not only was it impossible to navigate a modern-sized vehicle here, the streets had been closed to traffic for as long as I could remember. A tangle of narrow back alleys and twisting cobblestone lanes lined with heavy wrought iron lights and original brick buildings—some dating as far back as the 1800s—dissolved into a sprawl of glittering waterfront.
It was very much the heart of Perdition Falls and probably one of the reasons why I tolerated living in this weird ass city. A hub for culture and arts, tourist traps blended into restored apartment buildings, coffee shops, bookstores, and family-owned eateries. Vibrant street art brightened up the dark alleys, murals rendered in beautiful detail across large stretches of brick. Beyond the shadow of the steel and glass skyscrapers, The Raze had a retro vibe. An artsy charm that made it appealing to visitors, hipster types, and 20-somethings looking to escape corporate hell and the stench of hot garbage from the business district. That smell tended to waft downwind to us every now and then, but at least we had the shores of the lake to combat it.
Sometimes.
I crossed Niagara Square—another one of those old names from the original burned village, like the Buffalo River that bordered the Cobblestone District and drained into Lake Erie—a main artery clogged with indecisive tourists. The ruins of a meeting house from the late eighteenth century loomed over the outdoor market, all crumbling brick and jagged lines, an empty husk left behind by the great fire. The air was saturated with the scent of spices, coffee, and a wide array of international foods from nearby restaurants. A newer building that served as a history museum had cropped up beside the market, though it paled in comparison to mystique of the ruins. There were still scorch marks on the old bricks, battle wounds that hadn’t healed though a good part of the meeting house stood against the test of time.
Baptism of Fire (Playing With Hellfire Book 1) Page 8
