Gena Showalter - Playing With Fire (tales of an extra ordinary girl)

Oddly, I wanted to believe him. I wanted to place my life in his obviously capable (wonderfully wicked) hands. And yet, I couldn’t trust my own instincts right then; I mean, look where they’d gotten me so far.

He took my silence for capitulation and said, “I’ll check the building and surrounding area. If you stay here, you should be safe.” With a final caress of my cheek, he walked away. Or rather, disappeared, leaving behind a deflated, empty room.

My face scrunched, and my gaze jerked from one corner to another. One second he’d stood in front of me, the next he hadn’t. In fact, the only sign that he’d been here was the exquisite tingling in my face and the churning heat in my stomach.

“ Rome,” I called. I should have heard the front door close or at least a window slide. Since I’d heard neither, I padded through the dingy apartment. There was no trace of him.

How the hell had he gotten out so silently? As he’d promised, the door and windows possessed some kind of para-agent, futuristic bolt that spread silver, spiderlike legs through the wood and frame, linking them together. I highly doubted Rome could walk right through them. Or could he? After all, what did I know about the world nowadays?

“He’s gone,” I told myself. “How he left doesn’t matter.” Instead of wasting any more of my time on him, I trekked through the apartment again, this time searching for a phone. I wanted so badly to hear my dad’s voice.

Rome hadn’t lied, though. There were no phones.

“Shit.” I paced the cramped living room. If I went back to my apartment, would my phones be tapped? The call traced? If I left this building and found a pay phone, would I be followed? Killed?

Taken?

I’ll only be gone an hour, Rome had said. I had to make a decision now. Stay and wait for Rome, trusting him to keep his word and protect me. Or go, doing my best to keep myself safe-and the world safe from me.

Either way, I might make the wrong decision.

Either way, I’d be welcoming trouble with open arms.

Knowing that, I felt frustration and urgency rush through me. I massaged my temples. What I really needed was time alone, time to think this through without worrying when Rome would return. Time to make a decision on my terms, not his. Everything he’d said could very well have been a lie meant to lull me into submission. Or not. Arghh.

Something about the bargain he wanted to make bothered me, but at the moment I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what. Still, the unsettling sensation was there and I didn’t like it. Made me twitchy.

I expelled a shaky breath. Until I knew for sure and had this thing figured out, I was going to have to run. Run, just as I’d wanted to in the beginning. I’d be careful. I wouldn’t let myself feel a single volatile emotion, which would protect the world. I wouldn’t trust anyone, which would protect me.

Of course, I couldn’t go back to my apartment. I’d have to go somewhere I’d never been. Somewhere no one would think to look for me.

Determined, I fiddled with the front door for several minutes, unable to loosen it. I didn’t have long to escape, I thought, suspecting Rome would hurry back. I stared down at the doorknob. I’d never be able to pry it open.

I’d have to burn it off.

As quickly as possible, I searched the apartment and located a vinyl bag. Everything of mine, I tossed inside. Thankfully, Rome had brought several pieces of my clothing and many of my toiletries. Of course he hadn’t grabbed my ATM card, but the wad of money I found under the mattress made up for that. I stuffed the bills into my pocket.

Ready to face the door again, I stalked to it, glaring. How was I going to summon fire without creating an inferno? Maybe if I allowed myself a little anger. Only a little. Hopefully, the lock would burn and nothing else.

Please let nothing else burn.

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, I dropped the bag at my feet. I popped the bones in my neck, preparing to work up a good (but tiny!) steam. To do that, I needed to think about things that angered me, but didn’t infuriate me.

Okay. So. I hated when people cut in line. I also hated rude customers and menial jobs. Oh, that’s good, I thought, giving myself a mental pat on the back as a kernel of anger sparked. However, the mental pat quickly doused the anger, flooding me with satisfaction.

Concentrate! What else did I loathe? I know! I know! I hated being chased by bad guys. I hated the fact that people wanted to kill me. I hated that I’d been given an experimental secret formula without my consent. Hated, hated, hated that I was now unemployed, broke, and that my dad’s rent would soon be due.

My breathing became choppy as my anger intensified. My fists clenched tightly at my sides. I hated that Rome was so mouthwateringly sexy. Hated that he tasted so good. Hated that I already craved another sampling of him. And what the hell had he meant, blurting out that he had a daughter? A daughter, for Christ’s sake. He hadn’t been lying about that. His eyes had been filled with stark, raw emotion. Desperate need and fear. Did that mean Rome also had a wife?

Oh, the bastard! He did. He had a wifey-poo at home. And he’d kissed me as if he couldn’t live another moment without cleaning my tonsils. He’d touched my face and made me-

A stream of fire shot from my eyes and slammed into the front door. The force of it knocked me backward. As I fell, fire continued to spew from me and flames erupted everywhere I looked, licking a deadly, orange-gold path from one corner to another. Gasping, I squeezed my eyes tightly closed, cutting off the fire, blanking my mind.

But no sooner did I close my eyes than I felt my fingers heat. Flames began to fly from them. Dear Lord. I’d opened a fiery floodgate that didn’t want to close. I felt its singe, its sizzle. The scents of ash and burning carpet, wood and plaster filled my nose.

My heart drummed erratically. Calm down, Belle Jamison. Right now! Please calm down. If I didn’t, I would burn the entire building to the ground. People might die. Because of me. Me. Deep breath in, deep breath out. The heat continued to wrap around me, and my body responded in kind, enjoying it and producing more.

“I can control the fire,” I said, holding out my hands and trying to draw the inferno back into myself. Let this work, let this work, let this work. “I can control the fire. I have power over the elements. They must obey me.”

I opened my eyes, catching a glimpse of utter chaos before another round of flames burst free. I squeezed my eyelids shut again as panic washed through me. Dear God, what should I do? How did I stop this? Think good, happy thoughts. Nothing that miffed me even slightly.

Okay. What made me happy? Sherridan had a date with the twins. My dad was alive. Fifty-percent-off sales. Chocolate chip cookies-they increased my waistline, but I didn’t want to go there. The thought of never having to serve coffee to snobs made me ecstatic.

With each new thought, my anger and panic receded and I felt my hands cool. Slowly I cracked open my eyes. A deep exhale became a heavy sigh of relief. An inferno might rage around me, but at least no more flames leapt from my eyes or hands.

I couldn’t let the neighbors be hurt by this, though. I raced to the kitchen and was relieved to see the extinguisher Rome had used was next to the stove. Why hadn’t I kept it near me? Stupid. As I sprinted back to the door, I sprayed everything in my path. White mist soon thickened the air, and the flames died to a gentle sizzle.

I dropped the now-empty canister, my arms falling shakily to my sides as I looked around, assessing the damage. The couch, TV, coffee table and my bag were ruined. The shag carpet was ruined, too, but that was a cause for celebration.