A Strange Fire (Florence Vaine) (25 page)

 “I’m sorry Flo, but if you think I’m gonna sit on the floor in this
dirty little storage box and tell you my problems you’ve got another thing
coming,” he says, while at the same time coming back and sitting down in front
of me.

 “Yeah well, maybe you should experiment and a-act out of c-character,
you never know what might happen.” I tell him, with a small smile.

 “I’m not spilling my guts to you,” he holds firm. “I don’t even know why
I’m doing this.”

 “Don’t question it. And you don’t need to tell me anything, just close
your eyes for a few minutes. I guarantee I can make you feel better. I can
probably even make it so that you’ll never care about what Ingrid and her pals
think or say about you ever again.”

 “I’m
not
going to close my eyes, Flo,” says Josh, folding his
arms across his chest.

 “It’ll work better if you do.”

 He cocks an eyebrow. “You’re sort of a little bit insane.”

 “It won’t kill you to try something, Josh, now close your eyes.”

 He goes ahead and closes them, arms still folded. I close mine too for a
second, to clear my mind of all other thoughts. Decontaminating my head space.
I open them and begin the visualisation.

 I don’t get very far before Josh opens one eye. “You aren’t thinking of
trying something kinky, are you? Because you wouldn’t have to pretend to be
doing something else if you were, I’d be all up for that.” A smirk forms, but
quickly disappears when he sees me scowl.

 “Take this seriously or you can forget about it.”

 “Okay, okay,” he says, hands raised in surrender. “Go ahead and do
whatever it is you do.”

 I clear my mind a second time. Open my eyes. Focus in on the big
infectious patches of grey and black and brown. The culminating colours of
negative emotions like insecurity, hate, anger, and a lack of self-control. I
summon all of my power, and in one clean swoop I wipe it away, not erasing the
memory of the feelings, but simply ridding them from his immediate temperament.
I do my best to replace the negatives with positives, while also planting the
seeds for Josh to work towards his own self-fulfilment.

 He jumps back, eyes shooting open. “What the hell did you just do?” he
asks, voice shaky and uncertain.

 I’ve never seen this side to him before. He really didn’t expect me to
be able to do anything to help him. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this. If he
tells anyone about it I don’t know what will happen. Of course it’s all
abstract and can be denied, but people will still wonder, still suspect me of
being abnormal. Was this a foolish move? But I just couldn’t resist the pull to
heal, to make him better. It must be what I’m supposed to use my ability for.

 “Did you really do that, Flo?” he continues, but I don’t know how to
answer.

 I think for a minute, before I lie, “I’m all into that New Age stuff,
you know like Reiki and cultivating my psychic powers. Did it actually work?” I
do my best to sound as though I’m simply a rookie trying out something new.

 Josh frowns. “Um, yeah. You must be a natural. I think I felt something
change in me, the tension just – went away.”

 “Huh,” I say, “all that practising must have helped,” then I shrug.
“Kinda cool, isn’t it.” I’m going for nonchalant. It seems to work, I can see
Josh relax and accept my explanation.

 “You really are an oddball,” he says, reverting back to his cocky self.
“But,” he continues, “you’re not so bad, I suppose.”

 “Jesus Josh, that almost sounded like a c-compliment,” I laugh, getting
to my feet and heading for the door. Just as I’m about to turn the handle he
stops me.

 “What happened here today,” he says, “I mean, before. You aren’t going
to tell anyone are you?”

 I meet his gaze. “No, I won’t. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.
Truce?” I ask, holding out my hand.

 Reluctantly he shakes it. “Yeah, truce.” He replies, and as he says it I
wonder if he really will hold true to the pact. I hope I don’t live to regret
this.

The halls are empty when I leave the storage cupboard, quickly I rush
outside, hoping I can still catch up with Frank, there’s so much I want to talk
to him about. I bump into him as I exit the main school gate.

 “Where did you disappear to?” he asks, a look of bemusement on his face.

 I cough and tell a grey lie. “I needed to use the bathroom.”

 Franks nods, not even questioning my answer, a pang of guilt seizes me,
his trust makes it so much worse. If I told him what Josh did he’d lose it, and
I don’t want to complicate things. I’ve settled Josh by myself, there’s no need
to involve Frank, who will only want to teach Josh a lesson. And he already
owes him one for lying about him before.

 “You want to come to my place for a while?” I ask. “Gran’s going to be
gone all evening, said something about a friend’s welcome home party.”

 Frank’s grin makes me go red in the face. “Sounds promising,” he says,
tugging me into him, his lips finding mine in a brief and soft kiss.

 “I want to talk, not do...other s-stuff.” I tell him, nervously.

 “Come on, let’s get you home,” Frank says, laughing and putting his arm
around my waist.

 When we get to Gran’s I make us both some chicken and tomato pasta for
dinner. Frank watches me with amusement as I move about the kitchen, still
unsure as to where some things are kept. Gran’s done the majority of cooking
for me since I got here. He comes up behind me as I stir my concoction.

 “Looks good,” he whispers in my ear before placing little butterfly
kisses down the curve of my neck. I almost knock over the pot that’s heating on
the gas.

 “You should s-stop that if you don’t want me to burn this.” I tell him
nervously.

 “I’m not that hungry,” he answers back, slipping a hand under the hem of
my t-shirt and stroking me across the bottom of my stomach. I shudder and let
out a little sigh.

 “I love that sound,” says Frank gently into my ear, his breath brushing
my skin. He reaches around me and turns off the gas. “Let’s go upstairs for a
while, I want to see your room.”

 “I h-haven’t been here long enough to put my stamp on it really, there
isn’t much to see.”

 “Show me anyway.”

 I give in and put a lid on the pot, then I lead Frank upstairs. In my
bedroom he walks over to the shelves on the wall by the window, scanning the
titles of my books. A soft smile touches his lips as he takes in every detail
of the room where I sleep. I sit down on the edge of the bed.

 “I’ve discovered there are some things I can do I never knew I could before,”
I tell his back, slowly he turns around.

 “What kinds of things?”

 “Well I used to think I could just see colours, emotional states. But I
tried something a while back and it worked. I can change people’s thoughts
Frank, turn them from negative to positive, and vice versa I’m sure. I don’t
know what to do about it. I don’t want the responsibility.”

 He comes to sit down beside me. “That’s amazing, Florence, don’t be
unhappy about it. You were born with these gifts and you’re only going to keep
learning more and more about them the older you get. You need to embrace it.”

 “But being able to help people, and not using it on everyone out there
who needs it makes me feel like I’m neglecting my responsibility. You don’t
know what it’s like, how it kills me inside every time I see someone who
desperately needs me to fix them and I have to just walk away. Because I can’t
just go up to strangers and start touching the air around them. I’d get myself
locked up.”

 “You feel that way, around people who are hurting? Like you need to help
them?” Frank probes.

 I shake my head. “Not always, only if they’re hurting to the point of
emotional breakdown, that’s when I feel the pull to heal. And it keeps getting
stronger each time I feel it, like the power just keeps building up in me and
if I don’t use it to channel positive energy into negative people then I’ll
explode.”

 Frank’s blue eyes cut into me. “Then do it, don’t hold back. If it’s a
stranger then maybe you should tell them you’re a spiritual healer and would
like to give them a free session. If they say no then you’ll just have to let
them be, you can’t force people to get better if they don’t want to. I mean,
wow Florence, I can understand why this entity has been following you, your
powers are developing and changing so fast.”

 I frown. “You really have no idea what it is, do you?”

 “I’m not exactly in the loop when it comes to hidden world goings on,
John keeps us fairly isolated, in a good way though. He doesn’t want us to get
harmed by involving us with other groups since we’re all still so young.”

 “The hidden world? That’s what Sam called it too, what does that mean?”
I ask, leaning into him and resting my head on his shoulder. He strokes my
hair.

 “It’s what we call the world of supernatural folk, a world hidden,
unseen by the vast majority of humans.”

 “What
kind
of folk exactly?” worry coats my words.

 “Wouldn’t you prefer to remain in blissful ignorance? If I tell you then
you probably won’t sleep for worrying for the next fortnight.”

 “Hit me. Ignorance is not an attractive attribute.”

 Frank shifts closer and puts one arm around my waist. “Well,” he begins,
“the hidden world consists of almost every myth ever told. Except for
Leprechauns, whoever thought up that one was more than likely confusing Goblins
for something else.”

 I sputter a laugh. “Goblins, yeah right.”

 “Um, yeah actually. Goblins, Ghouls, Vampires, Spirits, Werewolves,
Shape shifters, Demons, Angels, and,” Frank takes a dramatic pause, “all of the
thousands of half breed offspring that derive from these creatures procreating
with humans.”

 I look up at him, unable to speak or comprehend the information he’s
just told me. Then I think of a clever question. “And which group do you belong
to?”

 “You’re devious, you know that?” he says, tickling me under the chin.

 “Just answer me.” I reply, sick of waiting for him to reveal himself to
me. God knows I’ve told him all about my strangeness.

 “One week we agreed, remember?” he reminds me.

 “Ugh. You’re no fun.”

 “Yes I am, I’m lots of fun,” he replies, scooping me up onto his lap and
taking my lips in a hard kiss. A little sigh of pleasure escapes me,
embarrassing me to no end. Frank’s hand slips under my top, caresses the skin
underneath.

 “I want you so, so much,” he breathes, in a low voice.

 “I’m right here,” I manage, between kisses, his lips are soft in
contrast to the stubble growing on his face.

 “In other ways,” he answers, and there’s such unspoken meaning in his
words that I clam up and hop off of him.

 His want shines all around him in a sea of the deepest red and orange
flames. Straightening my top, I tell him I need to use the bathroom and slip
quickly out of the room. In the toilet I splash water on my face and take a
minute to calm down. I wouldn’t know where to start with doing the things Frank
wants to do with me. No idea. Even though he’s only a year or so older than me
he seems as though he’s experienced decades more, and I can’t compare to that.

 He doesn’t even look like a normal teenage boy, no gangly skinniness or
discomfort in a rapidly changing body, just perfectly formed flesh and bone.

 When I return to the room I find Frank sitting at the head of my bed, my
copy of
The Monk
open on his lap.

 “This is a weird book,” he says, then flips to the first page and raises
an eyebrow. “Jesus, the guy who wrote this must have been one brave man, you
could have gotten burned at the stake for this kind of thing back then.”
Clearly he’d been checking the date it was published.

 I grab the book from him and put it back on the shelf. “There was a big
scandal over the first draft, I think, but anyway, who said you c-could go
through my things without asking?”

 I’m very sensitive about my books, it’s completely irrational of course.
But when you’ve lived with a man who would continually take them and throw them
out or hold them to ransom until you did what he wanted, you’d be a little
obsessive compulsive about it too.

 “I’m sorry,” says Frank in an apologetic tone. “I didn’t realise I was
being presumptuous. Next time I’ll be sure to ask.”

 I shake my head in dejection. “Don’t worry, I shouldn’t be so sensitive
about these things. I’ve just got weird privacy issues.” I explain.

 “Want to talk about it?” Frank asks, patting the spot beside him on the
bed. I sit and he pulls me in close to him, puts his arm around me so I can
sink into his warm chest.

 “Dad b-burned them once - my books,” I say in the tiny voice of a scared
child. “He knew how much it would hurt me I guess. Then I started hiding them,
so he wouldn’t have anything to hold power over me.” The words tumble out, and
this is really the first time I’ve spoken properly about my dad’s behaviour to
anyone. I spoke with Sam, but that was more general than specific.

 “You’re free of him now, you know, I’ll never let him touch you ever
again.” Frank tells me this like an oath, like he knows exactly what kind of
parent my dad was without me even having to explain. I look up at him, his fire
burns fiercely bright, his eyes a million miles away.

 And then, for the briefest of seconds, I see a flash of something else,
not colours but some kind of form. Huge, dark splotches of greyish black rise
out of his aura of flames, and my head tilts up to try to discern what I’m
seeing. Then it finally hits me. Wings. Massive, scaly, terrifying wings. The
fire licks up and along them as though welcoming a much adored friend. In an
instant they’re gone, and Frank’s aura is back to its strange but usual shape
of shifting colours amid a base of glowing orange.

 Startled by what I think I’ve just seen and what it means if it was
real, I slide off the bed, away from Frank and stand up.