Born In Flames

by Candace Knoebel

  “Sooner than later, little flame.” He pulled me close in a one-arm hug and winked. The screeching that I had heard earlier reverberated through the tree line, echoing in the night air and piercing my already wounded ears. Again my hands sought to cover them in protection.

  Astral’s eyes lit up to their brilliant blue glow as they filled with sudden fear, his face paling to an opaque white offsetting the brilliance. “You’ll be safe, don’t worry. You have to go now,” he said, pushing me towards the portal.

  Gabe was already moving towards the screeching as tree limbs cracked and the ground rumbled. A rush of sleepy animals bolted past me, running for their lives. Shouldn’t we follow? I tried to glance around Astral’s protective stance, but he prohibited me from seeing the action as Gabe’s cry of pain punctured what little bit of composure I had left.

  Astral bent down and smiled a ghostly smile and then shoved me through. “Find the keys to return,” was the last thing I heard as the pendant on my neck shot to his hands, ripping the connection to my power.

  Chapter 2

  Life in General

  FLAMES CONSUMED ME AS I stood in a clearing. I should have been screaming in agony—I could feel my mind doing just that—but then I realized that the flames felt delicious along my skin. I spun in circles, arms stretched out, smiling towards the starry night sky. Somehow I felt at home inside these flames.

  In the distance a pair of glowing blue eyes peeked out through the trees. I started to move towards them but then felt shaken. Something was pushing me. I turned, trying to find what was moving my body, but saw nothing. I heard a male voice. “Aurora,” it called, the tone ocean deep. I knew the voice, I just didn’t know how.

  I woke to the incessant buzzing of the alarm clock. A listless glance at the time told me I’d hit the snooze button one too many times, leaving me with only a few minutes to get ready. Great, I thought as I rolled my face into the pillow.

  The faucet was running in the bathroom, and I could hear the back and forth scrubbing of a toothbrush. Fenn was up, which meant it was almost time to catch the bus.

  I kicked at the wrinkled covers and started my ritual of rubbing at my neck in an effort to ease the ache that ran along it. The constant dreams of fire seemed to be the cause of my chronic tension.

  I looked over at the clock again and grimaced. If I was going to make it to work on time I really needed to get up and get going. Fenn poked his head from around the bathroom door and said, “Morning, Sunshine,” with his toothbrush tucked neatly into the side of his cheek. It was cute, the way the frothy bubbles slid down the side of his toothy grin.

  I frowned at him as I walked over to the bathroom, pushing him out of the way and closing the door in his face. I heard him say, “Hey, I wasn’t done,” but ignored him as I turned the shower on. With a smile, I might add. He could finish up at the kitchen sink.

  For some reason this dream made me think of Mily, my foster mom. She did her best to take care of Fenn and me. She was supportive of us, even of the strange occurrences that always seemed to happen when I was around.

  As strange and as sad as it sounds, I didn’t have any memory of the time before I ended up in the foster home. I was ten, as was Fenn who was dropped off the very same day. From there, well, life just went on. We grew up, graduated, and now the two of us are on our own, trying to scrape by.

  Kauai, Hawaii, in the small town of Kapaa, is where amnesia chose to sink in. Rays of sunshine and seas of coconut trees helped to ease the despair that could have easily been my childhood.

  Fenn shouted from outside the bathroom door, “Come on Rory! We’re gonna be late…again.”

  I smiled. Fenn had been the one who helped me get through the worst of not knowing who I was. He was in the same boat as far as not remembering anything before the day we were dropped off—it was easily an instant connection. So when it came time to graduate and move out of Mily’s, deciding to be roommates was a nobrainer.

  Scalding hot water steamed the mirrors and soothed my aching skin. I focused in on the rushing sound coming from the faucet, letting it soothe my rapid mind. Somewhere between the steam and the scented bath soap, I finally found my morning peace.

  With a speck of discouragement, I forced myself to shut the water off. It was already my fault we were running late.

  I side-eyed the straightener. I guess it would be another humid-air-curled hair day for me. My hair was long and layered, and I certainly didn’t have enough time to mess with it.

  I took a quick glance in the mirror, rubbing some lip gloss in. My lips were of average size, not too full but not too thin. They suited my ovalshaped face. Freckles danced on both my cheeks just below my eyes.

  I threw on the diner’s t-shirt and a pair of worn-in jeans and felt ready to embrace the day.

  My real parents were out there somewhere, waiting for me to come and find them. Or at least I hoped they were. My plan was to find them whether they liked it or not. What else does an ordinary foster child have to hope for? I say foster child because I refuse to believe that I was abandoned. They simply must have forgotten where they put me.

  After shutting and locking the front door, I hurried down the stairs, my footsteps alerting Fenn that I was coming.

  “So glad you could bless me with your presence, Oh Late One,” he joked, briskly moving forward. Fenn hated being late for anything.

  “No one told you to wait,” I answered with a smirk as he took a deep gulp of his on-the-go morning brew. He pulled off the diner’s t-shirt and well-worn jeans so much better than I did. His hair however was still in sleep mode, disheveled and out of place which wasn’t uncommon for him. And yet, somehow it added to his blue-eyed charming dreaminess.

  I don’t know why he was in a rush; he was scheduled for a double today, on a Sunday of all days. That meant that I would most likely pick up an extra shift. We were trying to scrape up as much money as we could before making our first attempt at finding each other’s birth parents.

  For the time being, our money came from a little diner called Paradise Diner where tourists and local blue-collar workers supported us. The constant traffic had landed the local fish fry a feature on TV. I was nothing but grateful for the funds that rolled in with the diners fame.

  “Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to work we go,” I chanted sarcastically, squinting into the morning sun.

  We took the local bus to and from everywhere in town. It was the perfect means of transportation for us. A car would have been nice, but we were fostered, working on minimum wage and living in a small town. We couldn’t really hold our expectations too high. The town was small enough that the commute only lasted between twenty and thirty minutes.

  It beat walking.

  We reached the bus stop underneath the clear morning sky and I slumped into the far end of the bench, trying to ignore the fidgety man waiting next to me. He clutched an old faded denim backpack to his chest in a death grip.

  Sheesh, I thought.

  I pulled my tattered baseball cap out of my purse and pushed my hair inside it. I liked to keep my hair tucked away when I was in the general public since it was ruby red and stood out against my pale skin. It helped lessen the curious stares.

  I noticed the man next to me, side-eyeing me through my peripheral vision. He had blotchy skin, and smelled of rubbing alcohol. A tuft of milky-white hair sat atop his head and swayed in the breeze. I wondered if the breeze picked up, would the feathery tuft float away like the seeds of a dandelion?

  Fenn looked back at the two of us. He shook his head, suppressing a chuckle as he watched the fidgety man squirm next to me. Strange things always seemed to occur around me. This creep was proof of that.

  The guy cleared his throat and straightened his back, tightening his grip on the pack, knuckles paling from skin stretched thin. There must be something important inside there.

  Fenn casually backed up a couple of steps to be closer to me, whistling and keeping his hands in his pocket, ever the silent protec
tor. It was a job he had always done well. Living on this island, the locals found it hard to adjust to the trouble I unintentionally brought.

  I’ve kind of been responsible for a few accidental fires (started by my thoughts though I never told anyone except Fenn). The fires have only started when I felt angry, but things have definitely exploded into flames around me—things like a bookshelf in a library that took a while to douse out.

  Now the town simply looked at me as a freak of sorts, some religious people even crossing themselves because they believed I could actually hurt them.

  So yeah, Fenn was always there to defend me. Just in case.

  I glanced at my watch, thinking the bus should be here any minute and that I’d be glad to get away from this freak next to me. His constant squirming didn’t sit well with me.

  Then I heard the awful screeching of the brakes as the bus came barreling into view a few seconds later. The front wheel plowed over the curb before it came to a thud on the street. The exhaust made a wheezy sound, probably fatigued from the driver’s mistreatment, and the hinges squealed as the old doors swung open, inviting us in.

  I have told the driver many times that he should probably get the brakes changed, but he always just looked at me and laughed in an idiotic way. Sort of a mix between a cackling witch and a hyena. Visions of sticking my foot in his mouth always came to mind. If only I could set this bus on fire, but then I guess I’d be out of transportation.

  “Hit any tourists today?” I asked casually as I stepped onto the bus. His usual smirk instantly pointed south. I kept moving, not giving him a chance to respond, as I pulled my hat down as low as it could go and took my seat near the back. The creepy guy from the bench took a seat directly across from me, continuing to side-eye me.

  “Great,” I mumbled.

  Fenn slid in next to me, and the doors swung shut. The driver pulled out, never checking traffic to ensure the road was clear. All I can say is that we haven’t been in an accident yet…and I stress the yet.

  We rode in silence for a while as the powerful hum of the engine sang a poor man’s lullaby. I could still feel the creepy guy’s burning gaze on the side of my face. What is it with this guy, I thought. I was tempted to say something, but a large pothole stopped me.

  Everything went flying, including Fenn’s coffee. Of course it decided to find a dry place to land on, like my shirt. Agitated chatter began as everyone reached for the items that had flown from their laps into the aisle.

  “Dang it,” I groaned, trying to blot the lukewarm wetness off my white shirt now stained coffee brown. I’d have to change into a new shirt when I got to work. Another small dent in my paycheck.

  “Sorry,” Fenn said, picking his music player up off the floor. “He’s such a douche. When you gonna learn to stop egging him on? You know he did that on purpose.” The bus driver’s demonic smile peered at me through the rear view mirror. I exhaled sharply, glaring back at him.

  A sparkle caught the corner of my eye. In the aisle sat a pendant, right next to the creepy guy’s bookbag. He was rubbing his head, probably from smacking it against the window, not paying attention. I leaned over to grab it, arousing his awareness.

  Our heads collided on the way down, but my hands were the quickest of the pair. As my fingers touched the pendant, an instantaneous flash of a clearing under an unusually large full moon ran through my mind along with a haunting pair of glowing blue eyes. Then a rush of power, tingling like electricity, spiked up my arm, throwing me backwards and into Fenn’s lap with a blast of light. The pendant was seared into my grip, the energy still coursing up my arm and throughout my body.

  “Rory, are you okay?” Fenn asked immediately, his worried hands running all over me, checking for any sign of damage.

  I looked up at him and said, “Fenn, I’m fi–," but was cut off by the frightened look upon his face. “What?” I asked hesitantly.

  “Your eyes, Rory…wait…is that blood?” he asked, panicked. His thumbs pulled at my lower lids as his eyes widened in horror.

  “Wha-what?” I stammered, feeling my own panic rise as I pulled my phone out of my pocket and held it up to my face to see my reflection.

  My irises were ruby red like my hair. They glistened as they caught the sun’s light. I moved to touch them but felt a foreign hand on my shoulder stop me.

  “The pendant, girl, give me the pendant,” said the creepy man, loud enough for only me to hear.

  A low growl built deep within, the pendant warming in my hand as if awakening something in me that had always been there.

  “Why do YOU have this?” I gritted through clenched teeth. Something foreign stirred inside me, overtaking my reasoning. Something powerful that longed to break free.

  He yanked the pendant from my hand and then placed his hand and face mere inches from my own, a white glow radiating from his palm.

  “Silly girl, the bus is no place for your change,” he said in a whisper as the blinding glow encompassed my face. I felt the heat kiss my eyes and then it all disappeared.

  “Stop it,” Fenn commanded, pulling me into him as he shoved the creepy guy off. I shook my head, dizzy from the cloudiness that instantly fogged my brain. Fenn squeezed my shoulder.

  “Your eyes…they’re, they’re normal, but how?” Fenn’s concerned face made me turn towards the man who was still staring directly at me, etching this weird moment deep inside my brain. “What did he just do?” whispered Fenn.

  My cheeks ran red as I held my gaze with the creep, ignoring the onlookers and their curious stares, and asked, “What did you mean by ‘change’?”

  The answer never came. He continued to stare a minute more until the screeching brakes told us we had made it to the next stop. Still staring at me, he grabbed his bag and shoved the pendant inside it, once again clutching it to his chest. He headed off the bus, the white glow on his hand touching each of the passengers as he walked by. Their heads slumped over as the white glow enshrouded them, and then they each shook their heads, dazed, as if trying to remember where they were.

  “Did that really just happen?” Fenn asked, muddled.

  I blinked, my mind going blank. I wish I could have answered him, but I had no idea what had just happened. My head was still foggy and aching.

  “Maybe it was just another strange occurrence?” I suggested, skeptical. I faced him with a forced smile.

  “What’d he whisper to you?” His hands were still bracing my shoulders.

  “Something about a change…I don’t know…it was hard to make out because he was talking so low. Weird, right?”

  “Weird is definitely right.” His eyebrows knit together, forming a perfect V. “I should follow him and demand an answer.” Anger flashed in his eyes. I felt him move like he was about to follow through with that plan so I placed my hand on his chest.

  “No, it won’t do any good now. He’ll be long gone. Let’s just forget it, okay? Pretend it never happened and focus on finding my parents.” I searched his eyes, waiting for his usual give.

  He sighed heavily. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just glad you’re okay,” he replied, putting his earphones back in and then after a brief smile, turning back to the window.

  We still had three more stops to go. Three more chances for me to get a grip on myself before I had to face a restaurant full of curious faces. I sighed and leaned back, putting in my own earphones. I closed my eyes and tried to let what just happened slip away. No use trying to decipher it, I would get nowhere like always. I just knew that finding my birth parents would resolve so many questions. Unfortunately, the beginning of that search was still paychecks away from happening.

  Chapter 3

  Work, Oh Joy

  THE SHORT RIDE WAS FILLED with nervous tension from everyone praying that we didn’t wind up in an accident. My mind was still racing as I tried to forget everything that had just happened. With any luck, I’d never have to see that guy again, but the horrible image of my blood red eyes played back, bringing a
shudder along with it. I wasn’t ready to face what lurked within me.

  The doors rasped open, as a soft gust of tropic air greeted me, calming my frantic nerves. It was one of the few things that I enjoyed most about living here. Salty ocean water mixed with the sweet tang from the local fruit stands always helped dampen my anxiety before work.

  For now I’d have to tuck away the incident on the bus and focus. The parking lot was already buzzing with the morning crowd as cars pulled in, drivers anxiously awaiting the famed breakfast. This place never seemed to rest, now more than ever since its fifteen minutes of fame on a food network.

  I glanced up at the old wooden dockside house and huffed at the sign that read Paradise Diner. A picture of a mahi-mahi, painted along the front side of the building in bright fluorescent colors, greeted the guests as they walked in. As always, the angry fish stared at me—I guess it was just as happy to be there as I was.

  Fenn held the door open for me. We were instantly greeted with the sounds of early bird chatter and the smells of freshly brewed coffee mixed with French toast and sausage. The servers already on the floor glanced up at us with pleading eyes. Here we go, I thought glumly.

  Fenn put his hand on the small of my back and pecked the side of my hair, whispering, “Catch ya later,” as he hurried to the kitchen. He was one of the three Chef’s and would clock me in, as usual.

  “I didn’t think you guys would ever get here. Over slept again, didn’t you?” asked Susan, the shift leader, as she marched up to me smacking her bubble gum. She could have been plucked straight from the eighties with her side ponytail and pink lipstick. A little over the top if you ask me.

  “You know how I do,” I responded lightly, straightening my ball cap and pulling my shirt out to show the stains.

  “I was going to ask you,” she said, pointing at my newly dyed shirt, “what did you do?”

  “Not what I did, it’s what the bus driver did.” I rolled my eyes at the memory and then felt a wave of nausea. I shook it off, not willing to let the strange occurrence ruin my day.