Angel Fire, Valmore Daniels [rosie project txt] 📗

look in his eyes whenever he was about to throw a heavy beating on someone. There was no going back from this. No one would hear me if I hollered at the top of my lungs. If I just stayed there, Donny would bludgeon me to death in front of his lover.

For the first time in my life, I purposely did not restrain the power. I stopped shouting the mantra, and instead I willed the fire to come forth.

If I were going to die, I would take Donny and Cindi with me.

The dry papers and folders inside the cabinets ignited like tinder. The overhead fluorescents exploded in a shower of sparks and chemical powder. Windows shattered as my would-be assailants screamed when thousands of shards and splinters pierced their skin.

The walls buckled and the roof groaned. I became an inferno, and the heat radiated out from me with such power that the flesh on Donny’s face melted before he died. He didn’t even have time to scream.

I was horrified, but at the same time, I felt an overwhelming sense of release that made my knees shake. The power coursed through my veins like a wild beast.

I was so completely out of control that I didn’t even know who I was anymore. It was almost as if I were a different person, and the thing inside me was an entity all on its own. I had succumbed to its desire to be free, and now I couldn’t harness it.

Cindi tried to run from my rage, but she was not fast enough. Her scream was cut off as a wave of my fire washed over her.

That scream was the last sound I heard; as with the first time the fire had taken control of me, I passed out. The building continued to burn around me.

The next day, when I woke in the infirmary, I was completely unharmed. The administration building, I found out from the orderly, had been reduced to ash.

They never found any signs of Cindi or Donny, and never suspected that their cremated remains were among the ruins. What they assumed was that Cindi had somehow escaped prison with the aid of Donny and me. That I was found among the burnt wreckage—a convicted arsonist—was enough circumstantial evidence for them to press multiple charges: I got an additional seven years tacked on to my original sentence for destruction of property, attempted escape, and aiding and abetting.

I had murdered Cindi and Donny. In a court of law, I could have pleaded self-defense, but there had not been and never would be a trial. For years I punished myself for unleashing the power on human beings, whether it had been justified or not.

During the remainder of my sentence I withdrew emotionally from everyone except for Kyra; I was alone in a prison of solitude, and felt I had warranted no less.

But now I met someone wonderful, someone who was like me: a kindred spirit who seemed to be everything I had always needed. Someone who had actually sought me out.

How could I accept Neil into my life, knowing that I had committed the vilest crime one person could inflict on another?

I had killed two people. It was self-defense, but at the same time I had wanted them to die. What kind of a person was I?

I did not deserve to love, or be loved.

 

Chapter Twenty-Two

I woke late the next morning and felt like a new woman with a renewed lease on life.

My exhaustion had taken over and I slept for eleven hours straight. It wasn’t until I poured a hot cup of coffee from the one-cup brewer in my room and took a long, wincing sip that I realized that the weekend was not a dream. It had all happened.

Barry. The fight at The Trough. The journal. The confessions. And Neil. My thoughts lingered on that last bit.

Somehow, I felt both thrilled and frightened at the prospect of knowing another person who was cursed with these elemental abilities. Two nights ago, I had my bags packed and I was set to walk away from everything I had known all my life. So much had happened in such a short time, I had trouble getting it all straight in my mind; but one thing I was certain of right now was that I was meant to come back to Middleton. I belonged here, not just because of the ties to family and friends. For the first time since I was a teenager I felt myself drawn to another person.

I didn’t deserve to love … but I wanted it. I found myself dwelling on that kiss Neil planted on my cheek. Gently touching the spot where his lips had made contact with my skin, I felt a flush emanating from my stomach and radiating throughout my entire body.

I suppose people who are most suited find each other more attractive. In my youth, I had found Barry’s rebellious personality appealing. Over the last decade, my outlook on life had completely changed. When I thought I was a freak of nature, I never entertained the thought of a personal relationship. Now that I was no longer the only one of my kind, I found myself drawn to Neil.

After quickly eating a stale blueberry muffin, I showered and dressed. I even put an iron through my hair to give it a bit of bounce.

The weather was seasonably mild when I stepped out of my room, but I still wore my jeans jacket in case the wind picked up. I walked past the main office and saw my uncle hovering over the ancient computer and grimacing in growing frustration. Technology was not his strong suit.

Ordinarily, I would have made a detour to help him, but I knew I had taken a little longer to get ready than I had originally planned. If I didn’t put a hustle on it, I was going to be late for my lunch date with Neil.

The Finer Diner was only a few blocks away, and I made good time. When I got there, I was a little startled to see Neil standing out front with a large paper bag.

He flashed a grin of welcome that I automatically returned.

“Hey. What’s up?” I asked him when I got close.

He raised the bag up to show me. “I took the liberty of ordering something to go.”

I blinked. “Go? Go where?”

“I got to thinking last night about a few things, and I think we can make this a working lunch.”

In a way, I was crestfallen. I had spent the morning hoping that this might be more of a romantic meal, perhaps our first real date. But I have to admit, I was very curious about what conclusions he’d drawn. Valiantly hiding my disappointment, I nodded.

“All right, what did you have in mind?”

“You said there was a small lake behind your aunt and uncle’s motel?”

I blinked, not understanding why he wanted to know that. “Yeah.”

“Why not have a picnic there?”

Actually, that sounded quite romantic to me.

“Why not?” I said with a smile.

* * *

We swung by the motel on the way. Uncle Edward was still fighting the computer, and when I asked him if I could be a little late, he grumbled his assent.

“Not too late, mind you; I have to make a deposit at the bank before it closes.”

“They have a 24-hour ATM there,” I reminded him, and that earned me a scowl.

He said, “That’ll be the day I trust one of those infernal machines. I’d rather a real live person I can yell at.”

I pressed my luck when I asked if we could borrow a few blankets, and he looked at me over the rim of his reading glasses.

“Any damage will come out of your pay,” he warned.

“Thanks, Uncle Edward.”

* * *

They called it Circle Lake, but it’s really more of an overgrown pond. I’m sure there’s a hard definition somewhere that will explain the difference, but if there were a line when determining which one it is, Circle Lake would fall right in the middle of it.

On the weekends, families would picnic in the surrounding area. During the week, it was rare to see anyone out there. Today was no exception: just the birds, the sagebrush, and us.

When we got there, I spread the blankets out while Neil unpacked our lunch. Club sandwiches and potato chips, with coleslaw and two big bottled waters.

The simplicity of the lunch took me a little off guard. I guess I was hoping for something a little more extravagant, maybe some assorted cheeses, French bread, sliced fruits and chocolate. I know I shouldn’t have read anything in to it, but I started to doubt. Of course, I realized my feelings for Neil were only just blossoming. Although I found him physically attractive, I hadn’t thought of him in more romantic terms until yesterday. The new connection we had developed in the last two days had stirred emotions in me that were more personal than intimate. I wondered, however, whether those feelings would, or could, be reciprocated.

He wasn’t exactly doting on me like a lovesick puppy. Instead, he stared out at the lake, lost not in my eyes, but in his own thoughts.

“So, what now?” I interrupted him.

“Now we help each other.”

I nodded. “All right. How?”

“Well, you said your uncle saw your great-grandmother set the lake on fire. Do you think you can do that?”

“I tried yesterday,” I admitted. “It was a waste of time.”

He stood up and took a few measured paces toward the edge of the lake. A moment later, I followed.

“In both of us,” said Neil, “the ability originally manifested only when we experienced the death of someone close. Afterwards, the power is triggered by extreme emotions.”

In the distance, a fish broke the surface of the water in its quest for insects.

Neil narrowed his eyes. “It took me a long time to learn to channel my power over water. But with me, there is a difference.”

I asked, “How do you mean?”

“I can’t create water out of nothing; I can only control it.” He looked at me. “You can cause objects to ignite; you can create fire. A small distinction, but maybe what works for me won’t work for you.”

After a moment of thought, he continued: “There are also limits. For example, I think the most I can do is change the course of a stream of water, like from a fire hose, and direct it to hit certain areas. I can cause rain drops to splinter into needles, and can make a small volume of water—say about equal to my own weight—form cool shapes, like that hand from last night. I can’t, however, change the course of a river, or drain this lake, or anything quite so dramatic.”

I said, “That seems quite impressive to me. I mean, that you can do those things when you want.”

“It takes a bit of effort. I have to put myself in something like a hypnotic state. You know, like when you’re very tired and driving home late at night. Before you realize it, you’re there and you have no recollection of how you got there. So I was thinking, maybe in that way you can also trigger your own power.”

I said, “In her journal, my great-grandmother wrote that she had to embrace the power and surrender to it. But I have no idea how to do that.”

“Can we try an experiment?” he asked, looking at me directly for the first time since we finished eating.

“Sure.”

He gestured to my torso with both hands. “The fire, the power, is in there;