Chapter 25 JERICHO #2
I open my eyes, surprised when I see a sphere of fire in my palm. I’m not sure it can even qualify as a fireball since it’s hardly the size of a marble, but at least it’s something.
“There you go!” Red says. “See? It’s just a part of you. Now play with it, see if you can control the size.”
“Red! Come here for a minute,” Sage calls.
Red pats me on the back before strolling away.
I stare down at the little orb, rolling it between my fingers. I can’t believe I did it.
“Does it hurt?” Evan asks.
“No. I mean, it’s warm, but… no, it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t even seem real.”
Evan reaches a tentative hand out, touching the flames with one finger, then quickly pulls away. “Okay, yeah, it’s real! Fuck, that’s so weird. Seriously cool, though. I’m a little jealous. Think you can throw it?”
I toss the ball up, and it falls back into my palm. “Only one way to find out.”
I walk to the field and stand near the center.
“Hey guys, clear out!” Evan calls.
Everyone moves to the side, exchanging weary but eager glances.
I turn to Evan. “You too, babe.”
He frowns.
“I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He kisses me before walking away, whispering, “Smokin’ hot boyfriend.”
I take a moment to watch the ball of fire again. It’s crazy to think that I created it. Literally just thought it into existence. I try it in my other hand, using the same dripping technique I did before, and just as easily, another sphere forms. Tiny, but it’s there.
“Focus on the targets, Jer,” Evan says. “You can do this. Think of all those times we played softball with our friends.”
I laugh. “Are you saying you want a bat to hit a home run?”
He smirks. “Hey, if it helps.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not throwing these at you!”
He claps his hands. “Alright then, focus!”
“Yes, Coach,” I call back, making him and a few of the others laugh.
“Oh, don’t tempt me. I’ll make you run laps if I need to!”
“I’ll just carry you.”
“We tried that, remember? Rowen still lost.”
“Hey! I did not!” Rowen calls.
“You so did,” Evan says.
“It was a tie!”
“No, it wasn’t,” Evan and I say together.
“Jericho won! Now shut up and let him focus.”
That day feels like months ago now. It was the first time I felt truly safe around the shifters, and the first time I’d nearly kissed Evan. So much has changed since then.
I flick my gaze up, zeroing in on the bullseye on the side of the trash can. Winding my arm up, I throw it as hard as I can. Smoke trails behind as it whizzes through the air, pinging off the metal before scattering into smaller, sizzling pieces.
“Yeah!” Evan shouts, punching the air. “That’s it!”
A few others join him, clapping. “Great job, Jer! Keep going!”
I aim for the next target, throwing the other ball. This one leaves a black mark just outside the inner ring.
Conjuring two more balls, each a tiny bit bigger than the last, I throw them one at a time. They both land at least somewhere on its mark. When I get to the first small tin can, however, I miss. The bush behind it ignites.
“Oh, shit.”
“It’s all good,” Jasmine says, running over with a hose. “We already thought of this. Just keep aiming away from the house, and we’ll be good.” She says this like I’m not about to start a damn forest fire.
You started a house fire once, why not a forest fire?
I shove the thought aside. I refuse to let my guilt keep me from learning how to do this.
“Try making a bigger one,” Grant says.
“Actually, I have an idea,” Ivy says, jumping down from the porch. “Let’s see how many targets you can hit in under a minute.”
I quirk a brow.
“Maybe it’ll help you produce them under pressure. Make you faster?”
I grin. “I like it.”
She stands behind me a little, a baseball cap covering her eyes. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I scan the row of targets, set up in an arch across the field. It’ll be easier to go left to right, since most of the larger ones are on the left.
Taking a breath, I nod.
“Annnnd go!”
I throw one right after another. One, two, three. I miss the fourth. Five, six.
“Time!”
“Dammit.”
“Hey, five is good!” Ivy says.
I spread my legs, taking a stance. “Let’s go again.”
So, we continue. Over and over until my arms ache and a faint sheen of sweat covers my forehead.
We’re about to run it again when two black wolves come from the side of the house, leaping off the porch and heading for the trees. I recognize one of them as Forest, due to his odd gait.
“Is it four o’clock already?” I ask, thinking they must be heading out for afternoon patrol.
“Uh.” She looks at her phone. “Fifteen after, actually.”
“Wow.”
“You want a break?”
I roll my shoulder. “Yeah, I think I’m about done.”
“How about one more?” Evan says, strolling up to us. He has a glint to his eyes that I’m starting to recognize, like he’s imagining me without clothes. He leans in and whispers, “If you get eight in a row, I’ll blow you before dinner.”
Ivy quickly looks away, grinning wide. How easily Evan forgets that shifters have superior hearing.
“Eight, huh?” I say, looking back at the targets. I’ve managed to hit six in a row, but not eight. Eight will be pushing it. “You’re on.”
I throw one fireball after another, successfully getting seven of the targets before missing the eighth.
Of course. “One more time,” I say.
Evan laughs. “Mmhmm. I thought that might work.”