Almost Midnight (21 page)

On the wave of that thought came another trickle of danger and impending doom. Cutting her eyes around at the other girls, she tried to see if any of them wore a mask of guilt. Was one of the other competitors doing this? But if this was a true mood spell, why wasn't everyone reacting?

Sure, mood spells could be cast on individuals, but it took a pretty strong spell to target it like that. And if targeted, then why her and Tabitha? And if it wasn't a mood spell, but actually Miranda's gift of forewarning, then why was Tabitha reading it as well?

Miranda's ability of forecasting trouble, inherited from her father's family, wasn't that common. Ha, wouldn't it totally suck to find out that Tabitha was some distant cousin?

Actually, more sucky, would be if the foreboding were real. Her gaze shifted to the audience and to Della and Kylie. If trouble plopped its butt down on her, at least she'd have help. Man, she'd lucked out getting those two best friends.

Tabitha began to speak. Her words rang loud and with confidence. “Feline of black, feline are you, change now to resemble Pepé Le Pew.”

Miranda frowned. She didn't have a copyright on skunk transformation, but why her archenemy cared to mimic Miranda's spell was disconcerting.

The condensation of the spell descended from the ceiling. It swirled around the feline, stopped, and then started again. When it evaporated, a skunk … well, a skunk with tall, skinny feline legs, centered the table.

Tabitha's sigh of discontent came just before the murmurs of the audience.

The judges leaned toward each other to compare notes. When they settled back in their seats, the spokeswoman stood and addressed Tabitha. “You will only receive seventy percent of your points. Let this be a lesson to you to use your own spell and not borrow the creativeness of others.”

Miranda should have been happy about the girl's comeuppance, but nope. Screwing up in front of your peers and an audience was bad enough. One didn't need to be chastised as well.

Ten minutes later, the second round of competition was over. Only the top ten finalists would move forward. The judges read out their tallies. Miranda's stomach knotted when she heard she fell into fifth place and the four ahead of her held perfect scores.

Normally, she'd have been thrilled, but it meant Miranda would have to get 100 percent on her next spell and everyone else would have to be docked points, to take first place. For once she was channeling her mother, and not accepting anything but a complete win.

*   *   *

Miranda had barely gotten to her dressing room for her four-minute reprieve, when a loud knock sounded at her door. Was it Tabitha again? What was it with that girl?

She ran to the door and swung it open. “What the hell is wrong with … you?” She spit out the last word, even though she'd been mistaken on the identity of the knocker.

Or knockers.

Both Kylie and Della stood perched at the door.

“Nothing is wrong with me,” Della smarted back. “You, on the other hand, have got problems! You should have handed them that girl's head on a platter.”

Miranda pushed her sassy remark aside and went right in for a hug. “This is for cheering for me.” She tightened her embrace. “Gawd, I've missed you. How are things at home?”

Della wiggled out of Miranda's hold. “The same.”

Della had gone back home last week due to her father being arrested for the murder of his sister. She swore her father wasn't guilty, and it appeared as if it was his twin brother, who was more than likely a rogue vampire, who'd really done the killing. With the help of the FRU, they were trying to solve the cold case.

Miranda couldn't blame Della for going home, but no one could blame Miranda for wanting her to get her butt back. Shadow Falls wasn't the same without her.

“Thank you both so much for coming.” Miranda hugged Kylie next.

When she pulled back, the three-minute warning bell rang.

“Shit,” Miranda muttered.

“You're doing great,” Kylie the optimist said.

“I have to,” she said. “I don't have time to explain it in detail, but the top five finalists get their way paid to the next competition and it's in Paris.”

“Paris?” Kylie said. “Wow. And that just happens to be where—”

“Perry is. I know,” Miranda said, and looked at Della. “I'm trying really hard to win so I can go shake some sense into him. He'll take one look at me and realize how much he loves me.” So she did want him back, she realized.

“Okay,” Kylie said, but she didn't sound overly confident.

“Screw Perry,” Della said. “Do you know who's here?”

Miranda scowled and ignored the vamp's comment. “And the best part is … and this is really good, guys…” She paused to add drama. “If I win first place, you two get to come with me. Mom's agreed to pay.”

Kylie and Della stood there dumbstruck.

“Isn't that great?” she asked.

Della started shaking her head, and Miranda spoke up again. “Duh, have you forgotten, Steve's in Paris, too.” Steve being Della's almost boyfriend.

“But—”

“Just for a few days,” Miranda added.

Della frowned. “I can't run off to Paris. I've got to help my dad.”

“Please,” Miranda pleaded. “I need you two there. You are my champions. I'll screw it up without you two.”

The one-minute bell rang. “I gotta go. Just think about it. You can't let me down. You can't.”

*   *   *

Miranda rushed out and stood in the circle of ten … and felt it immediately. Her palms itched with nerves. Not just from the competition or the sense of trouble. Though those both added to her level of anxiety. But now, accompanying that unease, was the sensation of being singled out—studied.

Searching the crowd, she spotted her mom, and even Della and Kylie settling back into their seats. None of them were causing her this discomfort. She let her gaze shift around, when all of a sudden, she saw a curtain to a doorway to the back auditorium flutter closed. Instantly, the feeling faded. Someone had been watching her. Could it be the same person casting the mood spell?

She probably should have mentioned that to Kylie and Della, but her mind hadn't gone there.

Inhaling, Miranda realized that Tabitha—frowning—stood beside her. Was Tabitha feeling any of this? The temptation to lean in and whisper the question bit hard.

But then a judge stood to address the crowd. Miranda pushed past the unease to listen. The last spell had purposely been left out of the brochure—a test of their spontaneity. Miranda sucked at spontaneity.

“Today, we have decided to test the contestants' ability to call upon one of the elemental powers.”

Miranda's breath caught.
Not fire. Not fire. Please not fire
. The one thing she sucked at more than spontaneity was …

“Fire.” The high priestess held up her hand and a flame came out of her fingertips.

Heavyhearted, Miranda considered walking off the stage. Her inability to control this particular elemental power had left a mark on her, or rather it had left a mark on her father.

She'd been eight and mortified when her attempt to light a candle had created a fireball running amuck around the house. Running until it found her father's backside. The poor man hadn't been able to sit down for a week. Not that he had punished her. He'd simply laughed, saying his mooning days were over. Unlike her mom, he never seemed to care that she wasn't perfect.

Looking around again, she questioned her reasons for putting herself through the embarrassment of trying and failing.

The answer came back. For Perry.

“Our first contestant is … Tabitha Evans.”

Miranda heard air leave the girl's lungs as she walked up to the front of the stage.

A fireplace magically appeared on her left, and on the right was a stand with a small candle perched on top. “Each shall light the candle, then move the flame to the fireplace.” The judge's explanation was exactly what Miranda had feared. What if her fire strayed from the given path?

“Each contestant will be allowed three tries to complete her spell. Points will be deducted for each failed attempt,” the judge continued. “For safety's sake, a magical bubble will be placed around each performing contestant.”

Miranda's panic eased. The only person she could hurt playing with fire this time was herself. That she could risk.

“Fire, oh heat, I ask of ye…” Tabitha lit the candle right away, but her tiny ball of flame kept losing its power and fading to smoke. On the third try she did it. The second, third, and fourth girls didn't make it at all. Candy got it in two tries and her twin did it in one. Sienna took two. The next two girls failed. Then it became apparent that she was going to be last. Again.

Waiting for her name to be called, her heart raced. Even with the magic bubble, the room's temperature rose. The sensation of being the target of someone's direct stare picked up again. She wanted to glare at the audience to see who had her under such intense scrutiny, but she needed to focus. Focus on fire.

“Miranda Kane.” Her name rang loud in her ears. Too loud.

She moved forward. The magic bubble, invisible with the exception of a light blue tint, started to enclose her. The sounds became muffled. Even her own thoughts seemed too loud. Her first impulse was to escape while she had a chance. Air hitched in her throat. Her palms grew damp with sweat.

Right before she felt the invisible walls seal together, an odd wash of calm hit her chest.

You can do this. You can!
She thought of seeing Perry. Of having Della and Kylie at her side.

She extended her hand. “Spark of flame, dance of heat, light this wick, then follow me.” Her thoughts became jumbled. She wiggled her pinky.

Nothing happened. The candle's wick remained unlit.

Desperation rose inside her. She felt the audience's anticipation of her failure. She started to lower her arm and ask for her second attempt, when a surge of calm, of clarity, rose inside her again.

Her breath caught as the tranquility filled her lungs. The realization hit. This … whatever it was, had not come from within her. Someone … someone was manipulating her powers.

She went to push the aid away, but too late. The wick of the candle sparked to life. The flame rose from the candle and grew to a perfect orb of fire. It floated in midair, waiting for orders.

Was this her spell, or the work of the foreign source?

“Go.” A simple hand motion sent the fire into the fireplace and the kindling embraced the heat and a fire with blue flames built inside the hearth.

The bubble around her slowly started to ebb away like fog. The applause echoed louder. Her gaze shot to the audience. Who had done this? She turned to direct the council to this mishap in their rules, but before the words left her lips, screams echoed behind her.

Swinging around, she saw the huge orb of fire soaring from the back of the stage. Had she done this? Oh, shit, she probably had.

The circle of blue-and-red flames flew forward toward the line of her competitors.

No! Miranda refused to let her stupidity hurt anyone else.

Without thought, she rushed forward, calling the flame toward her with an inward plea.
If you are gonna burn anyone's ass, it's gonna be mine this time.
The sphere hung in place for a second. Then, spitting out embers, it began rotating, flames flickering from the circle. It must have heard her plea.

With fire racing toward her, she swept her arms out and over her head and asked with all her soul for the magic to reseal the protective bubble. The invisible barriers rose around her, trapping her and the orb of fire in their own prison.

The heat in the enclosure stung her skin to the point of pain. Gray smoke thickened the air and burned her lungs.

Screams from outside of her confinement filled her ears.
“Help her! Somebody help her.”

The invisible bubble shook from the attempted spells slamming into the wall. The spellbound bubble couldn't be breached.

“Somebody do something.”

They couldn't save her.

It was up to Miranda. All up to her.

With the orb of fire hovering right above her, she raised her hand, calling forth the element of water. Her words had no more left her lips when she felt her knees give. Everything went black.

 

Chapter Five

“Breathe! You hear me? Breathe, damn it!”

Miranda felt someone fold her into their arms—a male someone, by the feel of muscles and the spicy male scent.

Perry?

Forcing her eyes open, she became trapped in a blue gaze. Not Perry's blue gaze. Falling around her and her mystery guy were what looked like gray snowflakes, mixed with a soft rain.

Nice. Kind of … well, not really.

What the heck?

“You're going to be okay,” Blue Eyes said.

Wait. She knew those eyes.

She blinked. She knew that face.

“You okay?” the deep voice asked.

She knew that voice.

“Talk to me,” he said.

Held so close, she felt his words vibrate in his chest, as she breathed in a scent that was purely male. Yes, she knew him.

Shawn? Shawn Hanson.

But that seemed to be all she knew. Where was she? And how…?

Reality jerked her from her stupor. She recalled the competition and the orb of fire. She'd screwed up.

She sat up. He let her go, but kept one arm around her shoulders.

Embarrassment consumed her.

“Was anyone hurt?” She forced the words from her raw throat.

“No. Thanks to you,” Shawn said. “But you might want to stop it from raining,” he said and winked.

Oh, yeah, she'd called upon the element of water to save her. And that gray snow wasn't snow, but ash. Had it worked? Had she saved herself or had…?