Ignited

by Corrine Jackson

  “And if I don’t want to stay?” I asked.

  Seamus sipped his wine, eying me thoughtfully. “Really, I’m surprised at you. We’re doing you a favor. The sooner you reconcile yourself to that, the easier things will be for you.”

  He said I was safe in one breath and threatened to lock me away in the next. The rage slammed into me like a train, obliterating reason. I’d been a prisoner most of my life. Never again. I snapped to my feet, all reaction and no thought, and stabbed my fork into Seamus’s hand. It crunched through bones and skin before it hit the hard table on the other side with enough force to puncture the wood. Seamus grabbed for his hand to free it, while I lifted his knife off the table. His two guards launched forward, but I’d already spun behind Seamus, pressing the knife against his throat.

  I lowered my shield, letting the hum of my energy stream through the air. “Feel that, Seamus? Imagine what it will feel like when I slice your throat open. I can make you feel it all.”

  “Stop! Don’t touch her!” Seamus yelled to the men, and they stopped moving. To me, he said, “Remy, I don’t think you understand.”

  A noise gurgled in his throat when I let the knife slice his skin a little. “Understand what? That you want to make me your puppet?”

  Seamus didn’t answer. He exploded upward, knocking my arm away. His head slammed into my chin, and I saw stars as I twisted around, reaching for my shoulder. I kicked his chair forward with enough force to knock him off balance and then yanked on his outstretched arm. His weight acted against him, and I only had to move out of his way as he crashed to the floor. Then I was on him, straddling his chest, as I placed the knife once more to his throat.

  Blood seeped out of a thin cut at his neck, and I stared into his widened eyes. His mental wall tumbled down, and I sensed him readying to attack me, poised to steal my energy to weaken or kill me like Protectors had done to Healers for the last century. A haze of fury surged through me. My mind snapped wide open, and I attacked first.

  The monster inside me tasted Seamus’s power and it roared, wanting more. Heat flashed inside me as my energy lashed to his, taking, taking, taking. My heart thudded at twice its normal speed, and red sparks exploded in the air as I stole his energy.

  “Stop, girl!”

  The voice broke through my concentration, and I glanced over at the man who’d spoken. Sean stared at me in horror. Beneath me, Seamus’s blue eyes were wide with fear and agony. I could kill him, but if I did, I would become like him. Immortal and unable to feel a simple touch. That, more than anything, enabled me to break free and pull myself back from the edge. The monster, denied what it wanted, snarled inside me, and I shoved it back in its cage.

  Slowly, I lifted the knife from Seamus’s throat and eased away from him, rising to my feet. He didn’t move, hardly dared to breathe. I backed away from his prostrate body, circling the table to steer clear of his men. They seemed as eager to avoid me, watching me with wary expressions. I reached the doorway as Seamus sat up with Sean’s help, holding a hand to his bloody throat.

  He shouted, “Stop! We’re not who you think we are.”

  I didn’t have to be told twice to run.

  Panic placed my heart squarely in my throat, and I gasped for air as my head swung both ways, looking for an exit. I tried to remember which way Sean had carried me through the house, but the memory had faded. Making a decision, I turned left, running down the hall while footsteps gave chase behind me. I pushed myself hard, and my feet slid, looking for purchase when I rounded a corner faster than I’d expected. I steadied myself against a table, and the knife went spinning through the air.

  I had reached some kind of entrance hall with a grand staircase leading to an upper floor. I dove for the front door and gave one last look over my shoulder before turning the doorknob. And what I saw stopped me in my tracks.

  Seamus entered the hall with several men on his heels. He backed off when he saw where my gaze had latched on to and threw out his arm to stop his men.

  “It can’t be,” I whispered. “This can’t be.”

  A large tapestry hung at the top of the stairs. The art depicted a family crest with a ship, a horse, a wild boar, armor, swords, and bows and arrows woven into the design. I moved closer, trying to make out the words under the design.

  “It’s an old O’Dugan quote from the fourteenth century,” Seamus said softly, pointing at the words I tried to read. “It says, ‘A good man yet there never was, of the O’Malleys, who was not a mariner; of every weather, ye are prophets; a tribe of brotherly affection and of friendship. ’ ”

  O’Malley. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  He approached within reaching distance. “I am Seamus O’Malley, and you are my kin, Remy O’Malley.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  He held out a hand like we’d met in polite company without the kidnapping and the threats. In Muir Woods, I’d thought him vaguely familiar, and I understood why now. His features, the black hair and blue eyes, they echoed my father. Seamus wasn’t an exact copy, but rather a duplicate of a duplicate of a duplicate. Hints of the original existed, but the lines had blurred between the generations.

  “What do you want with me?” I demanded.

  “I mean you no harm.”

  That wasn’t an answer. I avoided his outstretched hand, the one I hadn’t stabbed. “I don’t believe you. You kidnapped me,” I accused.

  He winced a little, finally dropping his hand to his side. “And you put a fork through my hand and tried to kill me. I’d say we’re even, cousin.”

  I started, backing away a step. “Cousin?”

  “As far as we can tell. And let’s just say there are a lot of greats in front of cousin.”

  “Did you know I was an O’Malley when you began tracking me in New York?”

  He shook his head. “No. The Healers have done too good a job hiding their bloodlines.”

  “You say you’re not like the Morrisseys, but you track Healers. Why? To give them friendship bracelets?”

  Heavy sarcasm dripped from my words, and Seamus seemed to be biting back a smile. “We don’t track Healers. We track Healers like you whom we suspect might be something more.”

  Imagine that. Protectors hunting me for my mixed blood. “And my father? Did you know about him?”

  “No. The O’Malleys . . . disbanded a long time ago. We didn’t know what family you belonged to until we tracked you to Blackwell Falls. You can imagine our surprise when we realized the girl we sought was a daughter of O’Malley.”

  One of his men shifted, drawing my attention. They had spanned out into a half circle to surround me. Sean spoke into a radio, and I guessed others waited on the other side of the front door. I balanced on the balls of my feet. If any of them made a move, I would run and chance facing what waited outside. I cursed myself for letting that stupid tapestry distract me. Sure, I’d taken Seamus down while riding high on his energy. Could I do it again with five Protectors ready to take me? Not likely.

  “So now what?” I asked Seamus. “You expect me to fall in line because we’re family? No, thank you. My grandfather already tried that tactic, and I showed him what I thought of his plans.”

  “Remy, look at me.” I did and Seamus spoke in a low voice full of sincerity. “I’m not going to hurt you. I swear it. We brought you here to keep you safe.”

  My eyes narrowed in distrust, and I waited for my bullshit meter to go off. It didn’t. Something told me that Seamus spoke the truth. Yet, he’d threatened people I loved. I took one step back toward the door, reaching behind me for the handle.

  “You kidnapped me for my own good? That’s your story?” I scoffed.

  A guard handed Seamus a cloth and he wrapped it around his bloody hand, his mouth tilting in a rueful smile. “I can see I’ve handled this all wrong. I expected you to be grateful when we rescued you from the Blackwells.”

  Rescue? I stared at him in confusion. “The Blackwells
are my friends.”

  He grimaced. “No wonder you attacked me. We thought you were their hostage. Obviously, I was mistaken. Give me a chance to explain who we are, and if you still want to leave, I’ll let you go.”

  He sounded like he meant it, but people lied all the time to get what they wanted. Unless I wanted to battle it out with these men, though, I had to play along.

  “Fine,” I said. “We talk, and then I leave.”

  “Let’s go upstairs,” Seamus said. “I need a first aid kit to take care of this.”

  He lifted his crudely bandaged hand, and I flushed. “Don’t expect an apology,” I warned him.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said in an amused tone. “This way.”

  The four guards backed up to allow me to follow Seamus to the staircase. I walked past them, almost tiptoeing with caution and sure I was making a huge mistake. What if I was following him into my prison? A bead of sweat dripped down my back. I hesitated halfway up the stairs when Sean climbed after me. Outnumbered and cornered? No way.

  I crossed my arms. “I’m not going another step until you tell your friends to go play elsewhere.”

  Sean actually looked affronted at the idea that I found him suspect, but I didn’t care.

  Seamus sighed. “You do realize that it’s me who has come out of both of our encounters wounded?”

  I didn’t budge and he caved, telling Sean, “Wait here. I’ll yell if she tries to kill me again. Happy?” he snapped at me.

  I nodded and climbed the stairs to reach him. “Delighted. It’s not every day I get kidnapped by a distant cousin.”

  He snorted but didn’t answer. We rounded a corner and entered a long hallway with portraits of dead people hanging high up on the walls. There was no furniture in the hall, and the sensation that the painted eyes followed me creeped me out.

  “Why don’t the other Protectors know you exist?” I asked.

  Seamus paused in the long hallway, his expression curious. “What makes you think they don’t?”

  “Asher said that a lot of the Protector families know each other, but the Blackwells didn’t know about the O’Malleys.” I thought of the genealogy book I’d found. The O’Malley bloodline had seemed to drop off after the last entry in 1629.

  “Good. That’s exactly what we wanted.” We reached a doorway, and Seamus said, “Wait here a moment.”

  He returned a second later with a first aid kit, and we continued on to some kind of sitting room with fancy wallpaper and enormous framed portraits of women from different time periods. Seriously, who needed this many paintings of people from past centuries?

  Seamus set the first aid kit on a low table and motioned for me to join him on a sofa of brocade cushions and carved wooden details. I left a cushion between us, and watched him attempt to open the first aid kit one-handed. My conscience pricked at me, but I ignored it. I was not going to help this man. We might share a last name, but we weren’t family.

  “What did you mean when you said you wanted to keep me safe?”

  Seamus grimaced. “You have a lot of people after you, cousin. The Morrisseys have put the word out that they’re willing to pay a lot of money to the Protector who finds you. We thought the Blackwells were controlling you. And you know your grandfather is here in London looking for you, don’t you?”

  My hand shook when I pushed my hair out of my face, and I sat on it to hide how that last statement had affected me. “And you expect me to believe that you’re trying to keep me safe from all of the bad men?”

  “It’s what we do,” he responded in a voice that vibrated with pride and sincerity. “Or rather, what we used to do when there were more of you.”

  My attention had latched on to a drop of blood pooling in the hollow of his throat, but my gaze snapped to his in shock. “There are more people like me?” I choked out.

  “There used to be.”

  He glanced toward a portrait on the far wall. The woman’s blond hair had been parted down the middle and hung down her back in long, looping curls. Her green gown had huge puffy sleeves that attached to the dress with ties at the shoulders. The clothing reminded me of something from the 1500s. She wore some kind of gold necklace around her neck. The painter had caught a sad expression in her blue eyes. I found myself wanting to see the necklace up close, but Seamus continued speaking.

  “You thought you were the first?” he asked.

  He didn’t sound amused, so I answered honestly. “Every Protector or Healer whom I’ve met has sworn they’ve never heard of anyone like me before.”

  He nodded, and I thought I glimpsed a hint of satisfaction. “Then we did our job. You know I’m a Protector, but it’s more complicated than that. Once, I was a Protector of the Phoenix.”

  “Phoenix?” I asked. “Like the bird?”

  “It’s what our family called them,” he said with a shrug. “The phoenix is a symbol of new life.”

  “If there were more like me, what happened to them?” I asked in desperation.

  “The Healers happened,” Seamus said with a fierce grimace. “They had all the power almost from the beginning, but it was a tenuous kind of power. We are stronger and faster, and they knew it. For a time, though, we existed in harmony, helping others and ourselves. But as children, we were taught that our races did not mix. It was almost a religious taboo, and you did not go against the church and live back in that day.” He shifted in his seat, finally unlatching the plastic kit. “Things changed with time. People are people, and they fall in love even when the odds are against them.”

  My cheeks heated as I thought of Asher and Gabe. Especially when the odds are against them.

  “A few Healers and Protectors broke the rules, and people looked the other way. It was still a taboo, but one few spoke of. Until the first children were born. The boys became Protectors, but the girls . . . The daughters of those unions changed everything.”

  “Why only girls?” I asked.

  “Because only girls are born Healers. Your friends must have told you that.”

  I frowned. Franc wanted to change that. He’d thought he could use me, experiment on me to understand why there were only female Healers. It was part of his plan to create male Healers to increase his numbers and take down the Protectors. Of course, he’d told me all of that before I understood what kind of man he was. Who knew what degree of truth had been in his words?

  “So what happened when the girls were born?”

  Seamus set supplies on the table, gauze, tape, and packets of antiseptic lined up like soldiers. “They grew up, and they grew into their powers. And as you know, that is no small thing. The Healers recognized a threat to their power. If they couldn’t control it, then the threat had to be destroyed.”

  Destroyed. He meant murder. The hair rose on my arms. “You mean they killed them?”

  “Every last one they could find. They slaughtered women, girls, babies.”

  I shuddered and swallowed back my fear.

  Seamus’s scowl darkened his face, and I guessed what he’d like to do to those Healers who had killed my kind. “That wasn’t enough for them, though. They wanted to be sure it could never happen again. So they killed all Healers and Protectors who dared break the taboo to set an example for others. Within a year, the Phoenix had disappeared, and after several decades, they were just a memory. A few centuries passed, and the Phoenix became a myth. A tall tale that the Protectors and Healers told their children.”

  Seamus paused in the act of unwrapping his hand to face me. “And now there’s you,” he said in a soft voice.

  I couldn’t decide if that sounded ominous or hopeful on his part. He finished pulling the towel from his hand and fumbled with an antiseptic wipe packet. When he dropped it for the second time, I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Give me that,” I said, shifting closer to him. Irritated, I yanked the packet from his fingers, opened it, and applied it to the cut on his neck. He hissed, and I reached into the kit to find a gauze pad t
o sop up the blood on his hand. I couldn’t hide my grimace as I cleaned the injury. The fork had gone all the way through his hand, and the mess of it was disgusting, the smell of iron strong in the air. It reminded me of the fake fingertip in the package from the night before.

  “I’m going to be sick. Here, hold this.” I pressed his free hand to the gauze pad to hold it in place, while I leaned away and breathed through my nose.

  “You’re a shite nurse,” he observed.

  “Oh, please. I’ve taken care of far worse.” Except I’d never stabbed anyone’s fleshy palm with a utensil. I suppressed a heartfelt “ew” and reached for a roll of white bandages. “What do you want with me?” I asked.

  I felt his eyes on me as I bandaged his hand, winding the gauze around and around the injury.

  “The first Phoenixes were born O’Malleys. Many of our ancestors died trying to protect them, to save them when the killing began. We failed, and the Healers targeted us, forcing the few of us who remained into hiding. Ever since then, we’ve been following the stories, waiting for another Phoenix to be born. We won’t fail you again.”

  That explained why their bloodline had disappeared from the book. The family had been a victim of Healer greed as much as the Phoenix had.

  “You expect me to hide out here with you,” I said. “You took me from my family and friends.”

  I finished taping off his hand a little rougher than necessary. He felt it, if his grimace was anything to go by. Already my nearness was affecting him.

  “As I mentioned, I handled things wrong. Your situation is not what we thought. You are not who we expected. I thought to find a mere child, but you are not that, are you?”

  I’d never been given the chance to be a child. Dean and my mother had seen to that. I studied Seamus’s features. The way he met my gaze made me think he was holding something back. Perhaps he wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t telling me the whole truth, either. And I’d learned not to trust somebody who hid their motives.