All Fired Up

by Kristen Painter

  She went to her room immediately after they entered the house. He sat on the couch, petting the cat, wondering if he should do something. He did not like seeing her this way and he did not like feeling helpless.

  A few moments later, she came back into the room. This time she looked directly at him. The look on her face set him on edge. His warrior instincts told him something bad was about to happen.

  “I’m going to say something and I don’t want you to interrupt me. Don’t say a word. I mean it. I need to get this off my chest before I blow up. Do you understand?”

  He nodded. Nay. This did not bode well.

  “When you told me you loved me tonight, I was thrilled. Thrilled! I couldn’t say it back because I just wasn’t sure what I was feeling. Like, yes. Enjoy, yes. But love? Love and I don’t do well.” She fisted her hands against her sides, her knuckles white.

  “You’re an incredible looking guy. I mean, there were a lot of hot guys at that club tonight, including all your Phoenix buddies and I still didn’t see one I thought was better looking than you. Not one. Even Brad is just neatly packaged average next to you.

  “I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t just attracted to you because of your looks. That’s okay for a while, but looks don’t last. Not that it matters, you can’t stay anyway.” She paused for a moment and rubbed her face with her hands.

  “There seemed to be so much more to you than looks. You seemed like a genuinely nice guy. I really thought you could be the one.”

  She shook her head. “So stupid of me. So typical. Pick a guy you can’t have.” She put her face into her hands then pushed her hair back and stared at him.

  “Why?” she whispered. “Why did you kiss her? If you really, truly loved me and weren’t just trying to butter me up in hopes of getting laid, why did you kiss her?” She was weeping softly now.

  Loki take him, she had seen Freya’s kiss. He opened his mouth to defend himself, to explain, but nothing came out. Of course. She had commanded he not say a word.

  He shook his head in silence. This could not be happening.

  “Had to be a blonde, too, didn’t it? After everything with Jeana, you had to pick a blonde? Why couldn’t you be honest with me?” She scrubbed the tears off her cheek with a fist.

  “And to think… I was going to ask you into my bed tonight.” She shook her head, tears flowing freely. “I’m such a fool.”

  He cursed Freya. When he returned to Valhalla, she would see the extent of his wrath, consequences be damned. It matter less to him that the goddess had kissed him than it did that Calleigh had been hurt because of it. For that, he would not forgive Freya.

  If only he could speak, he could explain. He was sure Calleigh did not realize she had silenced him with her command.

  There was only one thing he could think of doing. The one thing he had vowed never to do for another woman again so long as he breathed.

  He sank to his knees and stretched out his hands towards her in supplication, hoping she would see and understand.

  For only the second time in his life, he begged.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Calleigh backed away. “Don’t. You’re not going to change my mind. I’m not going through this again. I’m done with men. Done with love. My heart can’t take it.”

  Alrik closed his eyes and hung his head, his anger at Freya boiling his blood. He was going to lose this woman because of the goddess’s conniving ways.

  “I’m still not sure if I love you. Or loved you. Whatever. Maybe I did. Or do. I don’t know. It really doesn’t matter anymore.” An eerie calm settled into her voice. “I will tell you that I enjoyed your company. At least until you kissed that woman. Anyway, I think it’s best for both of us if I make my last change now.”

  That raised his head. He wanted to speak so badly, to shout that it was Freya’s doing, to explain that he did truly love her, to beg her not to make this last change. He was not ready to leave. He shook his head, pleading with his eyes.

  “Don’t worry. I think you’ll find my last change to your liking. I’m giving it to you, so you can go back to your time and get the vengeance you want so badly.”

  His jaw dropped. She was giving it to him?

  “Get up, please.” She touched his shoulder, briefly. “I don’t want to remember you this way.”

  He stood as she asked. His hands trembled with rage, his heart ached with anticipated loss. This was not how their day of parting should be. He studied her beautiful face, memorizing it so he could recall it in his dreams.

  “Alrik Gunn, I command you take my third and last change and use it to regain your life. I give you this change freely. Those are my final words.”

  Unbidden, the wings of fire sprang from his back. He welcomed the searing heat, the brief, torturous burn. His scars throbbed with fresh pain but this torment ran deeper than Dagny’s blade.

  Calleigh’s image wavered as the flames rose up around him. He snatched her hand and pressed it to his lips for one last taste of her before the fire of the Phoenix took him back to Valhalla.

  Calleigh’s hand burned with the kiss Alrik had seared upon her skin. Nothing remained of him but the circle of ashes.

  Her legs buckled and a sharp pain radiated through her knees as she hit the floor.

  An ache like she’d never felt before ripped through her, doubling her over. Tears blurred her vision. He was gone. Without a word to defend himself, he was gone.

  She slammed her fist against the floor. It was her own fault he hadn’t spoken. She’d told him not to say a word.

  She opened her mouth to scream but only a sob came out. Weeping, she collapsed and pressed the back of her hand to her lips. The scent of cinnamon lingered on her skin.

  “I do love you, you stupid cheating Viking,” she moaned, slumping down on the floor. “What have I done?” But he would return in three days, wouldn’t he? She prayed that was true.

  The coolness of the parquet eased the flush of her skin. She lay there, thinking about all that had passed between them the last few days. It only made her feel worse.

  Snickers meowed.

  “Don’t you start with me. I can’t take it right now.”

  He sat and stared at her, his gold eyes unblinking.

  She turned to get away from Snicker’s unrelenting gaze and saw the talisman on the breakfast bar.

  Hope tingled along her spine. She hopped up and grabbed the bird.

  The heaviness felt good in her hands, the warmth of the carving reassuring. She flipped it over and held it in the light.

  “Ex cinis cineris, in incendia. Ex cinis cineris, in incendia. Ex cinis cineris, in incendia.”

  A hopeful half-smile curved her mouth as she glanced around the room for a wisp of smoke or a burst of flame.

  Minutes ticked by. Nothing.

  She read the inscription three times again, louder, with more seriousness.

  The room stayed empty.

  Maybe the third time’s the charm. She read again, this time slower and with better enunciation.

  Snickers scratched his ear and burped.

  “I know it’s not working, you don’t have to be rude.”

  Think think think. Only one thing came to mind. Mrs. Crouper would not be pleased. Calleigh could live with that.

  She cranked on the gas. The fire jumped to life with a happy whoosh. When the logs had just begun to glow, she pitched the talisman in and sat back to wait.

  Slowly, small wisps of smoke trickled off the carving. Drifts of sooty gray crawled over the mantel and up to the ceiling. She moved back a bit, heady with anticipation. It was working!

  The cloud of smoke expanded, flattened out against the ceiling, and melted into nothingness. She stared at the ceiling in disbelief.

  When she looked back at the fireplace, the talisman just sat there. No smoke, no charred edges. Nothing. It wasn’t burning.

  She groaned and turned off the gas. “Crap. I can’t believe I had three chances to change my life and now
I’m more miserable than ever.”

  The phone rang. She had a pretty good idea of who it was.

  “Hello?”

  “I smell that wacky smoke again, Ms. McCarthy, and I am not happy.”

  The wretched old biddy had a nose like a bloodhound on steroids. “Hello to you too, Mrs. Crouper.”

  “I’m serious this time. I’m calling the police. Your parents would be turning in their graves if they knew—”

  “Okay, Adalaide, listen up and listen good. I am not smoking marijuana. I’m actually trying to conjure up a twelve-hundred-year-old Viking and if you ever mention my parents to me that way again, I’ll tell the lawyer across the street that you’re the one who never cleans up after her dog when it poops in front of his Porsche. Do we have an understanding?”

  Dead silence answered Calleigh, followed shortly by a dial tone. She replaced the receiver with a satisfying click. Apparently abandonment was good for the backbone.

  Rotten for the soul, though. She climbed the stairs to the guest room where Alrik had been sleeping. Draped across the foot of the bed were his jeans and T-shirt.

  She sat on the bed, gathered the T-shirt to her face and inhaled. His warm, spicy scent brought new tears. She sprawled back on the quilt. The pillow smelled like him too.

  I can’t believe he’s gone. I don’t even care that he kissed another woman. I want him back. At least so he can explain why he kissed that other woman.

  She might never see him again. The thought was too much to comprehend. She covered herself with his T-shirt, curled into a ball and wept herself to sleep.

  The next morning, wearing sunglasses to hide her puffy eyes, she left the house long enough to stock up on cinnamon-scented candles and chocolate-peanut butter ice cream.

  On her way home, she saw Mrs. Crouper walking her dog on the other side of the street. Plastic baggies hung out of the woman’s coat pocket. For a brief moment, Calleigh smiled.

  She spent the rest of the day watching an endless string of sappy old movies, sniffling at the misfortunes of others in an effort to forget her own. Camped on the couch, she ate ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner while the cinnamon candles burned down to their bases.

  The phone rang but she let the machine pick it up. It wasn’t like Alrik was going to call.

  “Calleigh me love, it’s your Uncle Seamus. I’m sure you and the lad are occupied so I won’t expect you to answer. Just let him know the party was a success. This campaign is going to be huge. The Germans are already making plans for the next one. Yer boy is going to be a star! I think you’ve really got yourself a winner, lovey. Talk to you soon.”

  How was she ever going to explain Alrik being gone to her uncle? She finished the last of the ice cream. Seamus would have a fit.

  By nightfall, she was sick of being brokenhearted. She studied the ring of ashes on her floor, thought about getting the dustpan then changed her mind. She took a hot shower and went to bed, determined not to think about Alrik.

  But her dreams had other plans.

  He came to her, as bronze and beautiful as ever, professing his love with kisses and caresses. She woke up hot and needy and wanting. When she finally fell back to sleep, she dreamed of him again. This time, the vision was darker.

  She stood between Alrik and Dagny, who looked and sounded remarkably like Jeana. Alrik demanded Calleigh get behind him but she refused. Dagny laughed, taunting Calleigh for being short and dark-haired and in love with a cheater. She threatened Calleigh with a gold sword that bore the intertwined Chanel C’s on its hilt.

  Daylight did not come soon enough.

  She struggled through the morning like a person bicycling through molasses. It was pointless and she went nowhere. Nothing made her mood any better. And she was out of ice cream.

  One look in the mirror and all thoughts of leaving the house vanished.

  “Well, you look like crap warmed over. Time to get yourself together. He’s not coming back. Deal with it. Besides, he kissed another woman. He cheated on you.”

  Did he? He was my Phoenix, not my boyfriend. And I didn’t tell him I loved him. Even though I do.

  She pressed her palms into her eyes until she saw stars. Did you know when you were going crazy? What were the warning signs of a mental breakdown?

  Things had to get better as some point.

  She fed Snickers, downed a cup of instant coffee then forced herself into a piping hot shower. Today would not be a repeat of yesterday.

  The shower helped. Clean clothes helped too. Looking at the mess she’d left from yesterday motivated her to clean.

  Three hours, two rolls of paper towels and half a bottle of Spray-n-Shine later and the entire house was spotless. Except for the circle of ashes on her living room floor.

  She just couldn’t bring herself to vacuum that up. Maybe tomorrow but definitely not today. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  The fridge was still empty, except for some old containers of now inedible takeout and a case of diet Pepsi.

  She could walk to Little Joe’s Diner but the last time she’d been there, she’d been with Alrik. There were other places to eat.

  Take out sounded like a great idea but the sun was shining and the fresh air would probably do her some good. She ruffled Snicker’s fur and laced up her sneakers.

  The walk down to Lenny’s Deli helped her feel hungry. Daffodils were blooming in the park across the street so she ordered a sandwich to go and sat in the sun.

  She didn’t mind the noise from the kids on the swings. It was a happy sound. Laughter mostly. Parents stood around chatting. Other people walked by with their dogs. Getting out of the house had been a good decision.

  At least until a huggy, kissy couple sat on the bench across from hers.

  Her mouth went dry. Her bite of sandwich turned to sawdust. How was she supposed to eat when they were sucking each other’s face off? Why did they have to be in love in front of everyone? Didn’t they know how sad her life was?

  She tossed the remainder of her sandwich in the trash and headed home. On the way, she stopped at the Korean grocery.

  Frosty pints of Häagen Dazs beckoned to her from their neat little rows on the shelf in the glass-front freezer. Strawberry Cheesecake, Triple Chocolate, Coffee, Cherry Vanilla, Bananas Foster and her arch nemesis, Chocolate Peanut Butter. Her hand gripped the freezer handle.

  Then let it go.

  She couldn’t feel sorry for herself for the rest of her life. She bought an apple and ate it on the way home.

  Dreams of Alrik filled her sleep again and when she woke, her sheets were damp with the heat of desire. She closed her eyes, not ready to leave the dream behind. Wanton energy coursed through over her skin.

  She bolted upright. She couldn’t spend the day carrying this much pent-up need. There was only one way to deal with it, only one way to get it out of her system.

  She hadn’t done it in a long time. Well, not done it properly anyway. But now seemed like the right time.

  Making the bed could wait. She pulled on some yoga pants, a sports bra and the T-shirt of Alrik’s she’d been sleeping with and headed to the one room of the house she hadn’t been in for the last six months. Her mother’s studio.

  She needed to dance.

  And the studio needed a thorough cleaning. Dust motes floated in the shafts of sun shining in from the street level windows. The natural light lit the studio well enough so she left the fluorescents off. She stood with her eyes closed in the middle of the polished wood floor and let the old familiar smells wash over her.

  White Shoulders, her mother’s favorite perfume, lingered in the air. The subtle tang of perspiration and leather was there too. It was a familiar and pleasant mix that tugged at Calleigh’s emotions.

  Her shoes were on the shelf were she’d left them. The last time she’d worn them, tears had blurred her vision. Giving up the studio had been easier than dealing with the daily reminder that her mother was gone.

  When her shoes were on, she wa
lked to the stereo system. The soft tap of her heels on the floor made her smile. She selected one of her favorite reels and slid the CD into the player.

  She tapped back to the center of the floor and waited for the first plaintive strains of the fiddles. Spine straight. Shoulders back. Head up. Keep the body proud. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head.

  The music swept through her. Her feet moved of their own accord. The staccato rap of her steps joined the beat of the reel and filled the studio with the sound of life.

  Too long she’d ignored the need to dance. Too long she’d been afraid to deal with her mother’s death.

  Her feet flew as she kicked and twisted across the floor. The notes pulsed in her veins like a second heart. Sweat drenched the back of her neck. She pulled Alrik’s T-shirt off and leapt into the air. The sheer joy of dancing again filled her with happiness.

  Faster. Harder. Higher. She skimmed across the entire studio, almost flying. Her breath came in little pants and her lungs ached but she refused to stop until the fiddles did.

  At last, the final notes echoed through the empty space and the reel ended. She collapsed, shaking and spent and the happiest she’d been in many months. Her mother would be proud. She glanced heavenward and smiled.

  “I shouldn’t have given it up. I shouldn’t have closed the studio,” she panted.

  “I’m sorry, Mom. But I’m ready now. I’m ready to dance again.” She lay back against the wood floor, relishing its coolness on her sweaty skin.

  If only she had her Viking. Everything would be perfect.

  ***

  When the flames vanished, Alrik stood in the Hall of Fire, the place in Valhalla where every Phoenix returned to make changes. He was as stunned, as if he had been hit broadside by an unexpected blow. Calleigh had sent him away thinking he had betrayed her and there was nothing he could do to change that.

  His heart ached so badly he wanted to rip it from his chest. The knowledge that sweet, beautiful Calleigh had been hurt felt like a deathblow. There was only one solution his throbbing brain could think of.

  Freya must die.