Fighting the Current (Igniting the Spark #2)

CHAPTER 1

Astrid

Water. It has a spirituality. Water heals and revitalizes.

Picture your mother’s chicken noodle soup, or perhaps more relevant to my situation, your morning coffee.

My family has always had a special connection to this element, so when the spirits gave me the power to control and influence water, it felt right.

My eyes scan the patrons of the cafe as I pull another shot of espresso.

It’s a busy day, a few more customers than I would normally expect this late in the afternoon, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.

I reach out with my mind and take stock of the mugs scattered around the room.

A few of them have gotten a bit cool, so I raise their temperature to a soothing warm.

That’s what makes a coffee shop successful, being able to keep water at the perfect temperature.

Not many people know this, but coffee beans need to be steeped at a certain temperature for a specific amount of time.

Too many shops just boil water and dump it in!

No passion, no precision, no care for the perfect beverage.

Not here, not at Brew for Two. I’m not messing around.

Every blend is steeped at the optimum temperature to bring out the sultry flavors of the beverage, while tamping the bitter notes.

Then, I make sure the drinks stay at the perfect drinking temperature so the guests can enjoy the coffee in their own time.

Of course… I do cheat a bit. Having powers does make this a lot easier.

I can feel the ambient temperature of all of the liquids around me and correct them when necessary.

Technically, I don’t even really need most of the machines around me – I could just heat the drinks myself – but people would find that very strange.

The bell on the door rings, drawing my attention away from the cappuccino in progress.

Dolores, one of my regulars, walks in. She’s a prickly lady with her hair in a tight gray bun, but deep inside there is a warm and caring person.

Deep, deep inside. It was hard for her when Edmund, her former husband, passed away a few years ago, but she still stops by the cafe several times a week with the crossword tucked under her arm.

That crossword is the most important thing in the world to her, so much so that she won’t let anyone help. Anyone except… nevermind.

“Good afternoon, Dolores!” I greet, hoping my happiness is infectious. “Standard black coffee today?”

“That will be sufficient.” Dolores nods neatly and pulls out her pocketbook. Exact change, as always. She leans to the side and peeks into the back room.

“Sasha is helping out today.” A fake smile is plastered on my face. I know who she is looking for. It’s been months, yet Dolores always checks. I’ve told Dolores that she’s gone, no longer a member of the team, but she always responds the same way.

“Let me know when Anise comes in,” Dolores curtly instructs.

“Perhaps I could help with your crossword?” I offer. Stop asking about her. Stop asking about her. Stop asking. “I’m happy to give it a shot.”

“I’ll wait.” She straightens out her crisp jacket, a bit warm for today but you never know the weather in the spring. “I know she’ll be back.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.” I force myself to look happy, but on the inside, I feel a crack in my mask. I quickly pour her black coffee and slide it across the counter. “Enjoy!”

Dolores takes the mug and strolls to her usual seat. I deliver the cappuccino to a college student working on some essay and make my way to the back, picking up empty cups as I go. Sasha is there, scrubbing dishes in soapy water. She moves to take the tray from me, but I wave her off.

“Do you mind manning the front for a minute?” I ask. “I’ll take care of these dishes.”

“You sure?” She tilts her head and looks at me. It’s unusual, I know. Normally, you can’t peel me away from the counter. But after an affirming nod, Sasha bops toward the front of the house.

I slump against the sink, my shoulders sagging as I try to keep my composure from slipping away. It’s been months, but I still feel the stab when she crosses my mind.

Her red hair flying as she speeds down the street on her motorcycle.

Her smirk as she teases me for something stupid.

Her sinful grin as she lowers her head between my…

Fuck.

It’s been a few years since I took up the crusade of the Water Weaver, using my powers to try and make the world around me a better place.

When I first donned the mask, I promised myself that no matter what, I would never kill anyone.

After all, would I be any better than the criminals I catch if I did?

No, it wasn’t something I would ever consider doing.

Until I did.

For her.

I still remember the biting cold of that December night.

The knife glinting in the moonlight, inches from her stomach.

The horror I felt knowing she was about to die.

I didn’t know what I was doing until I pulled the trigger.

The growing patch of red on his torso. My panic when he dragged her overboard with him, into the inky black water.

I dove into the water after them, desperately searching for any sign of life. Finding her limp body was the scariest moment of my life. I pleaded with every god I could name that she would be okay as I used my powers to draw the water from her lungs.

I went back into the ocean, searching for the man I shot… but he was gone. And I couldn’t forgive myself.

So I broke up with her. After all the lies, cover ups, deceit, I was done. I turned my back and walked across the sandy beach, leaving her alone by the shore.

I tell myself every day that I made the right choice.

But every day, I’m not convinced.

“The crowd’s dying out,” Sasha says. I jump, not realizing I wasn’t alone anymore. “I can finish the rest of the shift by myself if you want to bounce.”

“You sure?” I snap my shoulders back. “Wouldn’t want to leave you hanging.”

“I’ve got it.” She smiles, and for a moment, I think she can see through my mask. No, there’s nothing to see. Everything is fine. I’m fine.

“Okay then, I’m going to do boring owner’s paperwork upstairs,” I chuckle. “Give me a call if a wave comes in and you need another pair of hands.”

Sasha shoos me off as I hang up my apron.

I leave the shop and walk up the stairs to my apartment.

It’s still strange to me to have employees manning the shop on their own.

I used to run the cafe entirely by myself.

Anise would pop in and wash dishes when she didn’t have a freelance contract that day, the customers all loved her.

But then we broke up, and I decided I needed an extra set of hands.

I hired a few part-timers, then a manager, and now I have a full roster of team members.

I don’t remember how long it took me to realize that I didn’t need another pair of hands, I just missed hers.

But it is nice to be able to step away from the cafe. Go on vacations, take a day off, or just sit on my sofa and ruminate on the past. Business has been booming recently. Things must be going well, so then why do I feel like everything is wrong?

Mimi says that when it feels like the world is against you, it is time for a spiritual cleansing.

Grandmas always know what is best, so I figure I should take a quick shower.

I fill a sachet with rosemary, lavender, and sage, and tie it to the showerhead.

Soon, the steam is carrying their scent through my apartment.

As the hot water flows down my body, I fight against the flashbacks streaking through my mind.

Her body wash. Her hands. Water dripping down her curves.

I dunk my head into the downpour, but I can’t shake the sensation of her fingertips trailing down my back.

Frustrated, I turn off the shower. With a single thought, I use my powers to dry off, directing the water down the drain.

I pull my hair into a high ponytail, tugging the ends to make it tight. It doesn’t do any good for me to be moping in my self-pity. I broke up with her. It’s over. I need to pull myself together.

I walk over to my closet and open the doors, ignoring the boxes of Anise’s things.

She never came back. She didn’t bang on my door in the rain, begging for a second chance.

She didn’t ask for any of her clothes. I thought at least she’d come back for her viola, but I haven’t seen her since that night on the beach.

Deep breath. Focus. I push my clothes aside and slide open the hidden panel in the back, revealing my Water Weaver costume and mask.

The cobalt blue fabric glides over my skin, while the tulle overlay adds a subtle shimmer.

I love the material that drapes across my torso, and how a second piece falls behind me as a skirt.

It’s so fluid as I move, it makes me feel lithe and graceful.

My reflection catches my eye, and a wave of conviction courses through my body.

My shoulders roll back, and I relax into a state of composure.

I am no longer Astrid, I am now the Water Weaver.

The streets are quiet as the sun begins to set.

There has been talk about new players in town, filling the void left after I killed the last crime boss.

My informants say that it’s a duo, focusing on illegal gambling and betting events.

One of the pair is a man who comes from a long line of mafiosos.

He went quiet after his entire family was wiped out by a rival gang, but for some reason, he’s decided to reenter the game.

Apparently, he also has a partner, but no one has any information on them. Nada. Zilch. Zero.

If you ask me, there’s probably not a partner.

Instead, the guy is running solo and using the elusive mystery of a second to gain more power.

Typical scumbag behavior. However, I do make a point to do thorough recon before I make any moves and get the authorities involved, so here I am, loitering on a rooftop near a supposed casino location.

There’s a rumble of thunder as raindrops start to fall.

It doesn’t bother me any, I simply use my powers to create an umbrella over where I’m sitting.

The rain can actually be helpful – providing cover and distraction, preventing people from looking up, and also, supplying me with water.

My powers can’t create or destroy water, I can only move it and change its temperature.

Unfortunately, I am quite useless in a dry area.

The sound of an engine echoes through the alley, and three motorcycles pull up in front of the establishment. I slink down the fire escape and crouch behind a dumpster.

Leading the pack is a strongly built man.

It’s clear that this is the one in charge.

He pulls a razor blade out of his pocket and starts flipping it around his fingers as he strides to the door.

On his left is another man, slightly smaller in stature, but could still handle his own.

This second man appears to not be as well-rested as the first, with subtle bags under his eyes. On the right is…

Oh. Oh god.

It’s her.

She pulls off her helmet and her fiery curls fall free, brushing the tops of her shoulders.

She’s cut her hair. It looks nice. She’s wearing the same black bodysuit that she used to wear as “Sparks.” It hugs her curves tighter than before, and I can tell she’s been working out.

She laughs as she pulls her cloth mask over the bottom half of her face.

Though she raises her hood to cover her head, I can still see the glint in her eyes as she banters with the other two men.

She looks… happy.

I don’t understand.

The one with the razor blade bangs on the door and a third man pops out. Typical greasy slimeball. He rubs his hands together before gesturing wildly at the man. I creep closer to hear their conversation.

“I know the payment is late, but it’s not my fault,” Slimeball says. “You don’t understand what it’s like working with Sammy.”

“Don’t blame Sammy for your own ineptitudes.” Razor Blade steps closer to Slimeball. “He’s never had a problem with any other contractors. Now, when can we expect payment? I’ll give you a hint. The answer is tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” Slimeball stammers. “How do you prefer payment?”

“Bring the cash to the Lightning Bolt,” the second man interjects as Razor Blade rubs the bridge of his nose. “Tell the bartender―”

I accidentally kick a rock that goes skidding across the road.

Oh crap. Instinctively, I dive behind the cover of a building.

I peek around to gauge whether the rock blew my cover.

The three men are still deep in their conversation, unperturbed.

But Anise, she’s always been more observant than most. She steps away from the group, head on a swivel.

I move behind the corner as she looks my way and I hear footsteps coming toward me.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a ladder with roof access. Good enough. I scurry up the rungs, my chest heaves as I flatten myself against the roof. This is not the game of hide and seek I want to be playing right now.

“Astrid?” I hear her voice call uncertainly from below. “Is that you?”

I close my eyes as if that would make me disappear.

“Astrid?” Her voice is quieter and hesitant, but she doesn’t climb the ladder.

“Sparks!” I hear Razor Blade shout. “Time to go!”

“I’m going crazy,” she mutters, and I hear her footsteps recede. I lay there until the sound of motorcycles fade in the distance.

Anise is the mystery partner. It makes sense, with her obsessive need to keep everything about herself a secret.

Heck, that’s practically why we broke up.

I mean, she was a part of the gang called the Tributaries for who knows how long.

Combine that with her own superpowers, she’s a natural fit.

I guess, I just never thought she would fully commit to a life of crime. What is she up to?

Oh, Anise. What have you done?