Sparked (30 page)

“Don’t come any closer.”

But she didn’t stop. Instead, she continued forward. He stepped back twice for every step she took.

What was she doing? Didn’t she understand? Every moment in her presence was torture, a battle of wills between what he wanted and what was best for her. He couldn’t linger here, or he’d risk losing his resolve.

“It has to be this way, Cora. I’m too dangerous for you. I’m sorry.” 

He walked away from her again, turned his back on her. But this time, he didn’t hear her protest. Instead, he heard something else. There was a loud whoosh, and suddenly he seemed to be trapped inside a hurricane of water that she’d summoned from the nearby stream. He whirled around. And right there, in the center of the swirling madness, was Cora. Not six inches between them.

She had her lips on his in a flash—those lush lips—he couldn’t bear it, couldn’t control it. She tasted so good. He felt himself giving in to it, giving in to her. He delved into the kiss. Let himself taste, let himself tangle his fingers in her hair.

Then he remembered her face—how pale it had been when he’d done what he’d done, how he’d thought he’d already lost her. How he had simultaneously craved more. He pulled away and tried to step back, directly into the swirling wall of water. The blast of icy wetness killed whatever was left of the bourbon in his system.

“No. Stop it, Cora. I can’t be this close to you.”

“I trust you,” she said. “Don’t you see that?”

“Well, you shouldn’t. I’m a menace. Especially to you.”

“I’m willing to take the risk.”

She didn’t understand—perhaps couldn’t understand—what it was like to care so much about a person that you were willing to lose them to protect them. “I can’t risk hurting you again.”

“You did hurt me, Clayton. Deeper than I’ve ever been hurt before. But it wasn’t what you did with your power. It was how you reacted afterward,” she said. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought you were finally finished with me and ready to move on.”

“I’m doing this because I love you, Cora. Not because I don’t.”

“That was the worst feeling I’ve ever had in my entire life. You can’t do that to me again. I won’t let you. I won’t let you throw this away because of a stupid accident.”

Couldn’t she understand how he was hurting too? How hard it was to separate himself from her for even the last two days?

“I won’t put you in danger again, Cora.”

“So don’t,” she said.

Finally, she was listening to reason. He waited for the water to come crashing down around them, for a flood to splash to the earth, to see her run from him and this time be gone forever. But the moment passed, and nothing had changed. The water still churned around him. She wasn’t letting him go.

“Practice instead,” she said.

“Cora—”

“No. Listen. You’ve refused to use your powers, Clayton. That’s why they’re so unpredictable. When I first tried using mine, I could barely move the water inside a glass. But now?” She gestured to the whirlwind of water swirling around them. “It gets easier every time. I can handle more, do things I’d never thought possible. But it’s only because I practiced.”

“It’s too dangerous to practice. I could kill someone.”

“And you don’t think I could kill someone? I could have killed you twice, but we survived it together. That’s all I’m asking—that you let me help you try.”

He didn’t know what to say. Everything in him wanted to say yes. But the yes felt selfish. It felt like wishful thinking that there was a solution—any way at all to have greater control over what he could do.

But then again … could she be right? He had barely used his powers. The most had been the night he’d gone out to test them by himself. Almost every time had ended badly. How could it be worth the risk?

“It will only get worse,” she said. “Your powers are growing, Clayton. And so are mine. I think the more you ignore it, the harder it will be to control. What if it happened with somebody else? You’d be locked up, treated like a criminal. And you can’t just avoid touching people forever.”

He could. And he would in a heartbeat if it meant he never had to see her so close to death ever again.

“I swear to you, Clayton, I will not just sit by and watch you leave me over this—let you ruin your life over one mistake. If you don’t let me help you, I won’t leave you alone. I’ll use the money you gave me to follow wherever you run to.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“I’m not,” Cora said. “You don’t deserve a life of hiding, of worry. But that’s what you’re insisting on if you don’t learn how to control this now.”

“What other choice do I have?”

“You can choose to trust me. Trust me like I trusted you.”

He looked into her eyes, really looked into them this time. She was so confident. And he wanted to believe her. He really did.

“Give me a week,” she said. “Let me help you train. If you still feel the same afterward, then I’ll respect your wishes.”

“I can’t let you do that. You’d be putting yourself at risk.”

“We can take precautions, Clayton. I’ll keep my distance.”

Clayton considered her offer. Her eyes were so clear, so resolute.

“You would promise not to touch me?” he asked.

“If that’s what you want.” 

She backed away, widening the water swirling around them until she stood five feet away. It still seemed too close. Anywhere near him was too close. He was an open wire, ready to zap her if they both weren’t careful.

But what was he supposed to do? She was threatening to put herself in harm’s way if he didn’t do what she asked. And how long could he hold on to his resolve if she did? It was all he could do to keep from sweeping her into a kiss right now. At least like this it would be temporary. A week. Then she would have to keep her promise.

“Okay,” he said, against his better judgment.

“Okay,” she said. She flicked her fingers. In an instant, the thick twist of water that had been surrounding them arced over their heads and back into the stream, not a drop spilled on the ground. “Then let’s get started.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Cora

Cora drove them a little farther up the road, away from the campsite. They hiked into the woods for close to a mile without speaking, using the stream to guide them as it diverted from the road. Eventually, it led to a secluded spot: a small meadow of prairie grasses surrounded by towering pines. They were far enough away from the campsite that they could no longer hear the revelry—just the soft whisper of the grass as it swished around their legs.

Cora watched Clayton carefully as she considered how to start. He was agitated, a jumpy mess. She had to be careful, or she knew he’d just run again, and she wasn’t about to let him do that. Instead, she decided to approach the issue as logically as possible.

“As I see it, you have two problems,” Cora said. She walked beside him, trying to keep her tone light as she swished over the top of the grass with her palms. “The first is how to keep from pulling energy you don’t want to. That one is harder, and it’s going to take more to control, so we’ll hold off on it for now.”

“I can’t control that, Cora. If I could, what happened with you wouldn’t have happened at all.”

“I know you didn’t mean to. But that doesn’t mean you can’t. You can’t control it
yet
because you haven’t tried to control it
at all
. Not really. But that’s not what we’re going to worry about right now. We’re going worry about your second problem: what to do with the energy once you’ve pulled it.”

“I can’t put it back. I’ve tried.”

She had hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but so be it.

“Have you figured out any other ways to get rid of it?” she asked.

“The minute I throw it at something, it’s gone. But then I destroy whatever I throw it at.”

“Is there anything that seems to be immune to the power? Like, anything you’ve thrown it at that it doesn’t hurt?”

“Nothing yet. Boulders, trees, dirt—it’s all destroyed.”

“How about something man made? What about metal?”

“I don’t know.”

Cora nodded. “Then let’s start there and see if it works. Do you have anything metal?”

She knew he did. She could see the flask hanging out of his pocket. He followed her eyes and pulled it out, then set it on the ground.

“Good. That should do it.”

But he wasn’t moving.

“Go on,” she said. “You promised to try.”

“You’re standing too close,” he said.

Cora sighed. This whole situation was ridiculous. Now that he knew he could hurt her, she doubted he’d ever do it again. But she’d made an agreement and she’d keep her word. She tromped over to an open spot in the meadow about ten feet away.

“Is that better?” she asked.

“Yes. Thank you.” He shook out his hands and stretched his fingers several times—too many times. He was stalling.

“Just try it,” Cora said.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and reached for a blade of grass. Seconds later, there was a shining blue orb in his hand. Cora had seen him do it before at the lake, but she was still mesmerized. The thing glowing in his hand looked like it came from another world. Her ability felt so mundane compared to his. The possibilities of what he could do—how he could protect people or prevent crime—were overwhelming. She had to find a way to show him the good in his new talents.

Clayton threw the ball at the flask, but Cora wasn’t close enough to see what had happened.

“Did it work?” she asked.

“No.”

Cora came closer. The flask was gone. Just a pile of dust within a singed circle of ground—the grass having been destroyed right along with the flask.

“Okay,” she said. “Then we try something else. What happens if you throw the energy up into the air? Have you tried that yet?”

Clayton’s brow furrowed. “No. I haven’t.”

“It’s worth a shot, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” he said, but he didn’t seem entirely convinced.

She moved back to her place and watched as Clayton created another blue sphere of energy.

He bounced it once, and it came back to his hand. He bounced it again, and the same thing happened. It looked almost magnetized to his palm. Then he gave it a harder toss. It went about ten feet up, then dropped back down.

“Harder,” Cora said.

“I don’t like it. I don’t know what it’s going to do.”

“And you won’t know until you try.”

“If I throw it harder, it could land anywhere.” She heard the meaning between his words: it could land on
you
.

“Every time it’s come down before, it’s gone straight back into your hands.”

“It’s not worth the risk.”

How the hell was she going to convince him she’d be fine? Especially when she didn’t really know if she would be fine. She only had one weapon in her arsenal: his own sense of honor.

“You promised,” she said. “Please just try it?”

“Fine. But move back. Over there.” He gestured to a tree that was at least another thirty feet past where she was standing.

“Fine,” Cora said, and walked under the branches of the tree. “Now do it,” she called. “I’m perfectly safe.” Of course, if the ball
was
going to be attracted to her, it would shear right though her shelter. But she wasn’t about to bring that up. Not when he was finally willing to try.

He gave her one last worried glance before tossing the orb skyward again.

This time, he launched the thing into the air so hard it left a blue streak in her vision. The orb was moving fast, like a comet. It seemed to be using its own energy
and
Clayton’s energy to propel it. It was so high in the sky that Cora could no longer tell how far away it was.

Then, just as she was squinting to see if it was still there at all, the orb burst into a web of tiny lines—like a soundless spiderweb of fireworks. Just as quickly, it seemed to suck back in toward the center, and then it was gone.

“You did it!” she said, coming out from under the branches.

“Don’t you dare move. Not yet.” He pointed back under the tree’s canopy and Cora rolled her eyes as she ducked back under.

Clayton waited, watching the sky for another full minute. But nothing happened.

“Come on,” Cora said. “It’s gone. You have to admit it’s gone.”

“We can’t be sure yet.”

“Yes, we can. You saw it just as well as I did. You got rid of it. I’m coming out.”

“Cora, don’t.” He raced over to her, his features flushed with concern.

“Clayton. It’s fine. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“I could have hit something. Maybe a bird.”

“That wasn’t a bird.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you showed me before, at the lake, and it didn’t look like that. This was different. Has it ever looked like that before?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a fluke.”

“Then do it again. If the same thing happens, then you have to admit it works.”

He stood there, unmoving. She took a few steps backward.

“See? I’m going back under the tree.”

He scowled at her—he was handsome even when his eyebrows knit together like that—and tromped back to where he’d been standing before.

Again, he created an orb from a blade of grass. Again, he hurled it into the sky. And again, it soared upwards—up and up and up—until it burst into a fisherman’s net of electric blue.

This time, Cora came running out from under the trees, jumping and cheering.

“See! I knew you could do it!”

Clayton was not jumping or cheering. He was taking one step away from her with every step closer she got. But his face had gone from murderous to wary, and it seemed like an accomplishment. He wasn’t exactly happy—but she’d take it.

She wanted to jump into his arms and smother him with kisses, but she was pretty sure it would push him back toward the murderous side of the scale, so she restrained herself.

“Okay, so we know what you can do if you’re outdoors. But let’s keep testing.”

Immediately, Cora looked over and summoned a bucket’s worth of water from the stream they’d followed. It shimmered in the moonlight and landed in a perfectly round ball near Clayton’s feet. It was so easy now, controlling it. She hardly even had to think about it. She just wanted the water to move, flicked her wrist, and it did. That’s what she hoped to teach him.