Flame (Fireborn) (14 page)

Sucking in a breath, I
tense, feeling the vibrations of his gaze. I hear the pounding of my
heart, and I want to say his name.
Rhys the one person who can see
me.
The thought fills me with a strange yearning. For a moment
we're trapped in each other's eyes. I can't think except to wonder
what
he's
thinking.

Swallowing, I say,
"Saving two people in one day. You're an alien hero. They should
make a comic book about you." I'm babbling. I never babble. The
feelings inside me are making me anxious.

A smile touches his
lips. "What would they call me?"

I answer immediately.
"Golden Eyes. You can beam to the rescue of any damsel in
distress by blinking your eyes."

He laughs. People are
staring. Rhys notices because he gestures to the two security men.
They come closer, locking us in.

"I can be your
sidekick. Invisible woman. The bad guys won't notice me until I've
already captured them. We can have a dog, too." I can't stop the
words pouring from my mouth. I hear them in my head. I sound
ridiculous. Where's the cool, confident girl from before? The one
who'd actually
flirted
?

She's gone.

She's seen something
wonderful, and she's gone into hiding. She's also talking in third
person.
Jeez, even my mind is babbling.

"The dog should be
a golden retriever. It'll match the theme." Word vomit. I want
to kick myself.

Rhys is staring at me.
He comes closer so only I can hear him. "I can look at you all
day, Kenna."

His whispered
confession gives me goosebumps. Did he mean listen? I hope not. I'd
take look over listen any day.

He sighs. "I
should go."

Lenora nods. I don't
trust myself to say another word. The two bodyguards follow him out.

In the silence, their
footsteps echo like rain on pavement. My eyes remain on Rhys's back
until he disappears through the doors.

I feel an unyielding
urge to follow.

I'm standing outside
their bedroom door. I can hear them arguing inside. Guilt racks my
conscience. My birthday party is expensive, but I want it anyway. I
press my little ears to the door.

"… Already a
month behind our electricity bill! Do you want them to shut it off
again?" His voice is angrier than I've ever heard it. Mom
answers, but her voice is soft like always. I wish I could hear it.

Suddenly time
flashes forward, and the door is open, but I don't want to go in.
It's my birthday, and I know what's inside. I recoil, but an
invisible magnet pulls me forward. She's lying on the bed, perfectly
still. Her motionless body is cold. I know it is because the room is
chilly, and when I breathe I can see my breath like a white flower. I
whimper, my lips trembling with fear even though I've already seen
this image before.

"Mom," I
whisper, but I don't expect an answer. When I'm close enough to peer
into her face, I shut my eyes. The image appears in my mind anyway.
Her wide hazel eyes unblinking, her face paler than the white sheets
she's on. A solitaire rose plucked too soon; that's what she looked
like in her nightgown.

Lightning flickers
with a dizzying intensity, followed by thunder. The sounds echo in
the dark room. I'm not afraid of storms, but something tells me this
is no ordinary storm. Unease ripples through my body. Thunder booms
again, and I feel the earth move. The ground cracks open, and I
unclench my eyes in time to see my mother's body falling into the
hole. I run to try to catch her, but it's no use and I fall after
her. The gap is filled with light, and I'm dropping in a glow so
strong that it burns me. Just as fast as it comes, the light is
dimmed. I fall hard on my knees, and my skin is sliced open. I clutch
my knees, wincing from the pain.

Thick gray walls
surround either side of me, and the corridor I'm in stretches for a
few feet more before a black door halts it. A small golden circle
with diagonal lines running through it is red against the dark door.

A sharp scream
pierces through the walls, and I jump back, instantly alert. The
screams make the hair on my body stand straight. Goosebumps cover my
skin when the third scream reverberating through the walls abruptly
stops, like the person screaming has suddenly lost consciousness. I
move back, wary, and frightened.

My eyes drift back
to the black door in front of me. Curious, I want to open it, but
another part of me is shrinking back, begging me to stay put. The
decision is made for me when the door suddenly opens, and a robed
figure strolls through. His black hood is long and deep, and nothing
can be seen but shadows and hidden silhouettes. He pauses, and I know
he can see me. Perhaps he even senses my fear.

He folds his hands
in front of him, but it's nothing but fog and murky smoke.

"Kenna."
The low voice echoes all around me, bouncing off the walls and into
my eardrums where it stays in my mind, buzzing.

"Who are you?"
I'm surprised that my voice doesn't crack. Even as I ask the
question, I know the real question I should've asked was:
what
are you? Because I know he isn't human. His body drifts off the floor
like a weightless cloud, and his voice sounds like thunder. Instead
of answering, he floats higher up, until he looms above me like a
malevolent spirit, which I'm sure he is. He lifts his hands, and a
shudder passes through my body.

The iciness is back.
It starts from underneath me, and it spreads around me like the
flapping of a wing. Every second brings more cold, and it is
engulfing the space around and inside me. I start coughing. With
blinding clarity, I suddenly know what he is trying to do.

He is trying to
choke me to death.

He doesn't touch me,
but the iciness does, swirling around me like a chokehold. It wraps
itself tighter around me, and I can't move. I'm literally frozen from
the cold and from the invisible arms that are strangling me with an
arctic bitterness.

Keep
moving.

Instinct takes over,
and I start squirming, thrashing my head in a wild dance, and
attempting to find oxygen in an airless space. I curl my fist, and
the scar on my finger is burning. I'm imagining the warmth of a fire,
the heat of a blaze. It's so cold it's difficult to blink. The image
of a perfect flame flickers in my mind. It's orange with swirls of
red, and underneath the swirls are roots so intensely blue it reminds
me of an ocean. I envision the flame in front of me, stretching to
the ice, burning it with all the ferocity I feel. My head's pounding
with the strain to hold the image, but I do it.

I see the fire
building around me, licking away the cold and replacing it with
sizzling warmth that gathers at my core. It grows hot. I look up. I
picture the flame shooting straight through the demon, and abruptly
it appears before me, as perfect as I have imagined it. It turns into
a fiery arrow and with a cackle it shoots itself right through the
middle of the demon.

He anticipates it,
and he slides into the wall like the shadow that he is. The fire
arrow continues to the black door and breaks into little pieces when
it touches the door. He quickly appears again, closer, and harder.
His laughter is loud in my head.

"Is that all
you have?" he taunts. He lifts his hands again, and a twirling
tornado spins out between his fingers, coming straight for me. I
can't move, and when it finally touches me, it feels like it's
sucking the life out of me, spinning and spinning, until it takes
everything.

Something ancient
and old is inside me, vibrating from the threat. It tells me to rise
up, to stand as tall as a dragon. Magically the image is there: a
hundred fireflies, glowing with orange and red embers. As my eyes
strain the image attempts to come to life in front of me, but it's
faint near the dizzying tornado. The cyclone is consuming the fire
I'm attempting to make. His laughter continues in my head. The cold
is winning again. The invisible smoke filled with arctic wind shakes
all around me, cracking the firewall around me. It stabs at me,
creating thick airless spaces wherever it touches.

I squeeze my eyes
shut, and with a last burst of energy I imagine myself erupting from
the icy hands holding me. I imagine my fireflies swarming around him,
consuming him the way he had consumed me. Something is ripping inside
my hand.

One moment I'm
there, and the next I'm on fire.

I'm standing outside
their bedroom door. I can hear them arguing inside. Guilt racks my
conscience. My birthday party is expensive, but I want it anyway. I
press my little ears to the door.

"… Already a
month behind our electricity bill! Do you want them to shut it off
again?" His voice is angrier than I've ever heard it. Mom
answers, but her voice is soft like always. I wish I could hear it.

Suddenly time
flashes forward, and the door is open, but I don't want to go in.
It's my birthday, and I know what's inside. I recoil, but an
invisible magnet pulls me forward. She's lying on the bed, perfectly
still. Her motionless body is cold. I know it is because the room is
chilly, and when I breathe I can see my breath like a white flower. I
whimper, my lips trembling with fear even though I've already seen
this image before.

"Mom," I
whisper, but I don't expect an answer. When I'm close enough to peer
into her face, I shut my eyes. The image appears in my mind anyway.
Her wide hazel eyes unblinking, her face paler than the white sheets
she's on. A solitaire rose plucked too soon; that's what she looked
like in her nightgown.

Lightning flickers
with a dizzying intensity, followed by thunder. The sounds echo in
the dark room. I'm not afraid of storms, but something tells me this
is no ordinary storm. Unease ripples through my body. Thunder booms
again, and I feel the earth move. The ground cracks open, and I
unclench my eyes in time to see my mother's body falling into the
hole. I run to try to catch her, but it's no use and I fall after
her. The gap is filled with light, and I'm dropping in a glow so
strong that it burns me. Just as fast as it comes, the light is
dimmed. I fall hard on my knees, and my skin is sliced open. I clutch
my knees, wincing from the pain.

Thick gray walls
surround either side of me, and the corridor I'm in stretches for a
few feet more before a black door halts it. A small golden circle
with diagonal lines running through it is red against the dark door.

A sharp scream
pierces through the walls, and I jump back, instantly alert. The
screams make the hair on my body stand straight. Goosebumps cover my
skin when the third scream reverberating through the walls abruptly
stops, like the person screaming has suddenly lost consciousness. I
move back, wary, and frightened.

My eyes drift back
to the black door in front of me. Curious, I want to open it, but
another part of me is shrinking back, begging me to stay put. The
decision is made for me when the door suddenly opens, and a robed
figure strolls through. His black hood is long and deep, and nothing
can be seen but shadows and hidden silhouettes. He pauses, and I know
he can see me. Perhaps he even senses my fear.

He folds his hands
in front of him, but it's nothing but fog and murky smoke.

"Kenna."
The low voice echoes all around me, bouncing off the walls and into
my eardrums where it stays in my mind, buzzing.

"Who are you?"
I'm surprised that my voice doesn't crack. Even as I ask the
question, I know the real question I should've asked was:
what
are you? Because I know he isn't human. His body drifts off the floor
like a weightless cloud, and his voice sounds like thunder. Instead
of answering, he floats higher up, until he looms above me like a
malevolent spirit, which I'm sure he is. He lifts his hands, and a
shudder passes through my body.

The iciness is back.
It starts from underneath me, and it spreads around me like the
flapping of a wing. Every second brings more cold, and it is
engulfing the space around and inside me. I start coughing. With
blinding clarity, I suddenly know what he is trying to do.

He is trying to
choke me to death.

He doesn't touch me,
but the iciness does, swirling around me like a chokehold. It wraps
itself tighter around me, and I can't move. I'm literally frozen from
the cold and from the invisible arms that are strangling me with an
arctic bitterness.

Keep
moving.

Instinct takes over,
and I start squirming, thrashing my head in a wild dance, and
attempting to find oxygen in an airless space. I curl my fist, and
the scar on my finger is burning. I'm imagining the warmth of a fire,
the heat of a blaze. It's so cold it's difficult to blink. The image
of a perfect flame flickers in my mind. It's orange with swirls of
red, and underneath the swirls are roots so intensely blue it reminds
me of an ocean. I envision the flame in front of me, stretching to
the ice, burning it with all the ferocity I feel. My head's pounding
with the strain to hold the image, but I do it.

I see the fire
building around me, licking away the cold and replacing it with
sizzling warmth that gathers at my core. It grows hot. I look up. I
picture the flame shooting straight through the demon, and abruptly
it appears before me, as perfect as I have imagined it. It turns into
a fiery arrow and with a cackle it shoots itself right through the
middle of the demon.

He anticipates it,
and he slides into the wall like the shadow that he is. The fire
arrow continues to the black door and breaks into little pieces when
it touches the door. He quickly appears again, closer, and harder.
His laughter is loud in my head.