17. Sneaky demon #2
My friend shouted with triumph as he turned to me, his face pure joy, and I pushed back the apprehension lining my gut to join him. I fisted my hands and threw them in the air, yelling and hollering and forcing laughter.
But then he leapt toward me, pulling me into a jumping hug.
My hand grazed his arm, and his joyful shouts morphed into a scream of pain.
He shoved me away from him and I fell back, catching myself on my hands as my butt hit the wood while he stumbled to the slide.
He gave me a horrified look of betrayal as he slid down, his mom already running outside toward us.
I was frozen with shock, having no idea what happened.
And then there was more than just smoke.
The wood of the play structure caught fire beneath my hands.
It was old and dry, so it went up in flames quickly.
I don’t remember much of what happened in those moments, only that the fire burned my clothing away, burned the entire play structure to the ground, but no part of my body was injured. Not even my hair.
The fire department arrived before the fire could spread, and it was quickly doused. The party was cancelled, my friend was taken to the hospital with second degree burns, and I learned what my demon affinity was.
Fire.
I shake the memory away and will my inner demon to settle, but the memory on top of what I just saw Lor going through has me too worked up.
The flames rise again, and I shake my hands in a desperate attempt to put them out.
I know it won’t work, but I’m stuck here until the flames recede.
I spin around, searching for a puddle, a random bucket of water, even the sky to see if it might start raining.
There’s nothing, and the flames grow alongside my panic.
I thought I was better than this. I thought I had control over the flames, but with every moment it gets worse.
I run down the alley, needing to get away from that warehouse, but also somewhere I can’t hurt anyone.
I turn a corner and find a different alley lined with brick buildings, and there’s a metal dumpster on one side.
My heart is pounding, the blood rushing in my ears again as I start running toward it.
I fling my hands out as soon as I get close, and flames spiral away, shooting through the air into the dumpster.
I bend forward, my arms thrust in front of me as I drop my head and pant.
The flames are still pouring out of me, heating the air and sizzling over the metal.
The stench of burning garbage rises, my chest heaves for breath, and my gut clenches with nausea.
My thoughts spin and spin, so fast I can’t sort one from the next, and still, the fire rages.
My arms burn with the effort of holding them up and my hands shake, my eyes glassy with tears as I clench my jaw. The air shimmers with heat, and a sob lodges in my throat.
This isn’t me.
This isn’t who I want to be.
Then another voice pops into my head. It sounds like my therapist, but then it sounds like me, or some strange combination of the two.
It’s saying I can do this, that I’m more than the urges, more than the flame.
I’ve controlled them before and I can control them again.
Find my center, find my peace, stay grounded.
I stomp my feet and focus on the ground beneath my boots instead of the burn rushing from my fingertips. It’s solid, hard, with a stone beneath the ball of one foot.
I tense my legs, then unlock them and shift my attention to my lungs.
I focus on taking deep breaths, slowing my breathing until I feel more steady. It takes ages, but it’s helping.
I picture Lor. The newness of her smile, the affection she’s learning to accept from me and Kahlo, the bracelet around my wrist tying me to her.
I raise my head, seeing the flames sputtering rather than streaming from me.
Another breath, then I straighten my spine and seek out my center.
The peace and safety I feel when sitting on Lor’s couch.
I close my eyes and pull the flames back.
They shorten and flicker until I’m holding two small balls of fire in my palms.
I close my hands, gently fisting them and dousing the fire.
My head tips back as I suck in a breath of cool air. Then I walk on shaky legs to the dumpster and peek inside. Everything in it is burned, only glowing embers remain. I reach a hand out, mentally connecting with the lingering flame, and douse that too.
The fire didn’t spread; it stayed contained to the dumpster. There’s not even a smudge on the brick wall above it, so what felt like ages to me must have been only a few minutes at most.
I’m lucky no one saw that. An out of control demon gets a one-way ticket to the supernatural prison, and I don’t think I’d survive there. I flex and relax my hands, ensuring there’s not even a tiny spark of flame before I make my way back to the block where I parked my bike.
As I’m weaving between traffic, my mind shifts between two topics: the threats against Lor, and my deepening feelings for her. It’s obvious they’re stronger than I anticipated; I wouldn’t lose control like that otherwise.
The question is, what am I going to do about it?