by C. C. Hunter
“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 invisib
le 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…?
She shifted a pinky to stop the rain. Still feeling like a fish out of water, even though she was soaked, she looked around. At the foot of the stage gathered the crowd of about three hundred. Closer, standing on the stage, were another thirty or so faces peering at her—probably laughing on the inside at her mistake.
She spotted her mom, looking fretful. In the mix of people, Della and Kylie stood a few feet away. Kylie’s aura was bright, as it got when she went into protective mode. Had Kylie saved her? Her gaze shifted to Della. Perhaps even Della with her vampire strength had helped in the rescue. Then she noted Della’s “told-you-so” smile. Why was…? Oh, heck, Miranda knew why.
Ever since Perry had taken off for Paris, the vamp had been pushing her to go out with Shawn. Now the question waiting to be answered was why Shawn was here.
She started to get up. Shawn bolted to his feet and reached down to help her. The words, I can do it rested on her tongue. But she bit them back.
His warm hand slipped into hers and she felt it. The spark of attraction. She’d carried a torch for him—the older brother of one of her friends—since she was twelve and he was fourteen.
In the corner of her eye, she saw Della grin and wave a hand under her nose as if she was picking up on the pheromones.
And dad-blast it, it was true. She had the hots for Shawn, but he wasn’t … Perry. She couldn’t open herself up to Shawn until … until she knew how things really stood between her and Perry.
On her feet, she saw the council gathering in one corner of the stage. Freaking great. No doubt they were about to chastise her for causing such chaos. Her gaze went back to her mom. The thought of her being humiliated—again—at Miranda’s failure stung like a paper cut right across the heart.
Then another deep cut sliced into her heart. She wasn’t going to Paris. She wouldn’t see Perry.
A knot of emotion rose in her throat.
All of a sudden, a loud bam sounded. Miranda’s gaze, along with everyone else’s, went to the auditorium door that had been slammed open. Three men dressed in dark suits came storming inside. A gasp echoed in the building.
Leading the group into the large room was a tall, dark man who owned any room he walked into—no matter what the size. Burnett James. Burnett, super vampire and part owner of Shadow Falls Boarding School, was also an agent with the Fallen Research Unit (FRU), which was basically the FBI of supernaturals. He didn’t slow down until he and the other men stopped right in front of her and Shawn.
What was Burnett doing here?
Did her screwup warrant the FRU showing up? Then she noted the vampire’s stern expression. Oh, hell, she was in deep doo-doo now.
* * *
Burnett wasted no time taking control of the situation, ordering people back, and insisting no one leave until his people had had a chance to interview them.
After swallowing her shock at seeing him, she found her voice. “What are you—?”
He held up one finger and sent her a look that demanded silence. She didn’t argue. Kylie and Della might feel comfortable enough to butt heads with the badass vamp, but Miranda … not so much.
She could still remember the fury in his eyes when she’d accidentally turned him into a kangaroo.
“We’ll speak in private,” he stated.
Private? Oh, shit! Had her spell seriously gone so wonky that it required the FRU’s presence?
She forced herself to speak again. “I have a dressing room.”
Nodding, he gave orders for the other agents to start interviewing the audience. Though why, Miranda didn’t have a clue. He already had the guilty party in custody. Her.
He motioned for Miranda to lead the way and then with a slight wave, he indicated that Shawn, Della, and Kylie were to follow. Not so private after all, huh? Nothing like getting your ass chewed out in front of people.
With five people in the dressing room, it felt small, and she worried there wasn’t enough air in there for everyone. And considering her state of mind, she needed a lot of oxygen. Taking a gulp now, she almost felt light-headed.
“Are you really okay?” Burnett asked as soon as the door to the dressing room clicked shut. While the question insinuated he cared, his tone rang rock hard and had her palms itching again.
“I’m … fine…” Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I mean, I stopped it before it hurt anyone, right?” She glanced at Shawn, praying he hadn’t lied to her earlier. “You said I did. Did you lie to me?”
“No.” Shawn looked at her oddly. “Wait, do you think … You didn’t cause that fireball, Miranda.”
“I didn’t?” Air, old air, gushed out of her lungs.
“No,” Shawn said. “You were still entrapped in the bubble when it appeared. Your spell was contained. But you sure as hell stopped it from hurting anyone else.”
Relief washed over her and she smiled—a weak one, but a smile. “I thought … I mean, I’d just finished my spell and I thought…” I screwed up again.
“She was freaking amazing,” Della spouted out. “You should have seen her, Burnett. Before Kylie or I could get on the stage, she had that monster-ass fireball trapped in that invisible bubble, waving her arms around, as if daring it to come any closer. Then she made it rain and that ball burst into cinders. And then she fell to her knees like in that epic movie, Gone to the Breeze, I think that was the name of it, where the heroine yells out, ‘I shall never go hungry again.’”
“Gone with the Wind,” Miranda corrected, then stood dumbstruck hearing Della’s description of the events.
“Breeze, wind, same thing,” Della said.
Kylie spoke up as if reading Miranda’s mind. “Della’s right. You were amazing.”
“I agree,” Shawn said, and his blue eyes landed on her with warmth.
Warmth. Lots of warmth. What was he doing here anyway?
“Now isn’t the time for praise.” Burnett studied Shawn. “Do you know who might have done this?”
�
�No,” Shawn spoke up. “Whoever placed the spell didn’t leave an imprint. It’s the same as the scene from yesterday.”
But they did, Miranda thought, remembering the foreboding she’d picked up on. Then she reheard what Shawn had said.
“What other scene?” Miranda asked. “What are you talking about?”
Burnett spoke up. “You might as well know. Two girls were murdered.”
“That’s horrible, but how does that … what does that have to do with this?”
“They were both supposed to participate in this competition.”
“What?” Miranda asked. “Who?”
Burnett frowned. “Roni Force and Cindy Bryant.”
“Oh, my God. I know them. We’re not close, but … I’ve met them both. Why hasn’t anyone mentioned it here?”
“We’ve kept it out of the media while we did the initial investigation.”
Miranda’s brain still wasn’t wrapping around this. “But … why would anyone want to kill them?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. We didn’t see a connection between the two murders until we realized this morning that they were both supposed to compete today. I sent Shawn here while I chased down some other leads. But after what happened, it seems that it has something to do with all this.”
“All this? This what?” Miranda asked.
“The competition.”
“But why … I mean…”
Burnett ran a hand through his dark hair. The strands seemed to fall right back as if even his hair feared disappointing him. He gazed at Shawn and then back at Miranda. “According to him, this is the second biggest contest. The finalists in this contest will compete to reign as high priestess. Correct?”
“Yes, but I just don’t see anyone … killing off the competition.” But no sooner had the words left her mouth, she knew better. “Okay, maybe you have a point.”
Just because she didn’t live, eat, and breathe the idea of rising in the ranks, didn’t mean others didn’t. For that matter, more than the contestants wanted to win, there were the contestants’ moms. Wicca-competition moms made soccer moms seem like candy stripers.
Right then, the door to her dressing room whooshed open. Speaking of soccer moms, her mother stormed in. “You did it! You did it!” She grabbed Miranda up for a hug. “They just announced the winners. You finally put those little bitches in their places.”