Flame Caller

by Jon Messenger

  “Give him time, dear,” Alicia offered as they approached the mainland.

  Sammy raised her head and looked at the approaching river delta. Beyond the triangular shape of wetlands, she could see marshy and swampy trees hanging from the shoreline. Thick mosses climbed the tree trunks before dangling limply from the twisted branches.

  “I don’t think so,” Sammy replied. “I don’t think he’s going to be willing to forgive and forget. I lied to him.”

  Alicia shrugged. “You didn’t technically lie to him. You just weren’t completely honest. He’ll realize that eventually.”

  “This was just so stupid,” Sammy sighed. “I wanted to tell him the truth so many times. Somehow, there was always something else that got in the way. Or I just chickened out.”

  “I like you, dearest. I have since the beginning. But the secret you kept was a pretty big one. Your father is in charge of all the people that have been hunting us to extinction.”

  “But I’m not my father,” Sammy pleaded.

  “I know. We never are.”

  Sammy looked away from the shoreline and tried to glance over her shoulder. They’d traveled quite a ways since leaving the island. Even if the waterspout was still in place, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to see it from the mainland. Without it, the island was invisible on the endless horizon of ocean. Actually seeing the island wasn’t her intent, however. She was looking behind her in hopes that Xander would know how sorry she was for the entire situation.

  “He wasn’t always a bad man, you know?” Sammy said absently, as she turned back forward.

  “Who, dear?”

  “My father. He was a good man when I was growing up. He was considerate and supportive, like a father should be. I know Xander didn’t want to hear it but he changed when he started visiting the monster in the cavern. I really think it is the Fire Elemental. It changed him, made him angry and aggressive. All the things he’s done—including attacking all of you—that’s not him. That’s the influence of the Elemental.”

  Alicia seemed pensive as they started descending toward the shore. “Just give him time. If you’re right, he’ll see the truth once he’s had time to calm down.”

  They landed without any further conversation. Not far from where they touched down, Sammy could see an outcropping of a wooden pier jutting out over the water. A wooden structure stood behind it, though she couldn’t read the hand-painted sign that hung over the front of the building. Floating in the water tethered to the pier was a long motorboat that had seen better days.

  “I have to get back,” Alicia said apologetically.

  Sammy nodded toward the Wind Warrior. She leaned in suddenly and wrapped her arms around Alicia. The older woman was temporarily startled before she returned the hug. They separated as quickly as they had embraced without a word of explanation.

  With a nod, Alicia kicked off from the ground and quickly disappeared into the distance.

  Sammy stood in the soft mud and watched Alicia depart until she was little more than a dark speck against the bright blue sky. She sighed and turned away, ready to make the short walk to the building in the distance. Despite being grateful for Alicia flying her to the mainland, she didn’t actually know where she was. Her hope was that the wooden structure would have a phone at least so she could find somewhere to stay while she waited for Xander.

  “Welcome back, fleshling,” a familiar voice hissed in her ear.

  Sammy turned sharply, her mouth agape in fear. Hovering in their air, contrasted against the bright blue sky, was the dark yellow orb of an eye. It dominated the sky as it locked its slit of a pupil on her. She immediately felt sharp pain across her temples, culminating behind her eyes. Sammy cried out and her knees threatened to buckle.

  “You’re not really here,” she moaned as she clutched the sides of her head.

  A hand suddenly wrapped around her waist, pulling her upright. A second hand closed over her mouth as she attempted to scream. She could feel the waxy skin; its ridges and taut texture felt unnatural.

  “It may not be,” General Abraxas hissed in her ear, “but I most certainly am. We’ve missed you, Sammy. It’s time to take you home.”

  “I don’t know if you’re up there looking down on us but I could really use some advice right now.”

  Xander hugged his knees as he looked over at the pile of marble stonework that made his grandfather’s makeshift burial plot. The slope of the island wasn’t so severe where he sat so he didn’t feel like he was going to slide off into the ocean, like he did in some areas of the dilapidated landmass. Reaching out, he ran his hand along the closest of the stones and searched for some connection with the man who was buried beneath.

  “I’ve never been much on religion,” Xander continued as he withdrew his hand. “I don’t really know how much stock I put in the afterlife or heaven or whatever you want to call it. But if there is one, I hope you’re there and watching. Because if you could send me a sign, I’d really appreciate it right about now.”

  Xander wiped his eyes and glanced hastily around his relatively flat stretch of land. He didn’t think the aunts and uncles would intrude on his private farewell but he didn’t want them seeing him so vulnerable. With everything weighing on his shoulders, the last thing he needed was for them to start doubting his ability to defeat the Fire Warriors.

  “It’s all coming apart at the seams. You, Mom, and Dad are all dead. Just saying that is so hard, Grandpa. Of all of the members of our family, I’m the last one that should still be sitting here. I know that if you were here, you’d give me some line about having my whole life ahead of me but I wasn’t exactly doing a bang-up job with my life so far. I’m the last person that should be saving the world. Even Dad, no matter how much he pissed me off, was at least responsible. You guys somehow put the responsibility on the shoulders of the guy that was too busy playing video games to finish his philosophy paper just a couple months ago.

  “With you gone now, there’s no one keeping this dysfunctional Wind Caste family together. Giovanni seems supportive and Alicia wouldn’t say a bad word even if she thought it. I’d be surprised, though, if Patrick and Thea were still here by the end of the day.

  “I’m trying to hold onto sand. I’m clenching my fists as hard as I can to keep it all together but it’s not just the responsibilities of a Wind Warrior that are slipping away. I’m slipping away, too. This hole in my chest is getting bigger every day. At first, it was losing Sammy the first time, despite the fact that she tried to kill me. Then Mom and Dad—when they died it was like someone took a shovel to the sides of that hole and dug it as wide as the Grand Canyon.

  “Then you, Grandpa. I don’t know if I ever really told you how I felt about you. It always seemed silly to tell your grandpa that you loved him but I really did. I thought I was going to shatter when you died. If losing my parents was like a shovel digging out the hole in my heart, losing you was like someone taking an axe and chopping to pieces whatever was left.”

  Xander threw himself back and savored the cool, damp grass soaking through his shirt. A strong wind coursed through the labyrinth of remaining structures on the island and rolled over Xander as he lay prone.

  “Now there’s Sammy again, like we’ve come full circle and every point on that circle was another layer of crap in my life. I sent her away. I don’t even know where; I couldn’t bring myself to ask Alicia when she got back. I should be happy about it, right? But I’m not. I know she’s the dynamite that’s going to blow apart everything I have left. But she was also my anchor and I just willingly cut the line and now I’m adrift in an ocean that just doesn’t make any sense anymore.”

  A cloud passed between Xander and the sun, casting the island in a gratifying shadow. Covering his eyes, he looked up at the sky and noticed the dark edges to the cloud. In the distance, it was joined by more of its kind, filling the horizon with a brewing summer storm.

  “If you’re up there, Grandpa,” he muttered as the cloud blew awa
y and the sun beat down on him once again, “I could use a sign. Anything you can send my way would really help me out.”

  The first raindrop struck Xander between the eyes. He blinked away the water as it rolled over his eye and down his cheek. By the time he was able to push himself into a seated position, the sky darkened as the fast-moving clouds blotted out the sun.

  With a single crack of thunder, the clouds released their burden over the island. The rain came down in driving sheets, soaking Xander to the bone and leaving his tunic and pants stuck to his skin. Sputtering away the rivulet of water running over his mouth, he stood and looked over at the grave.

  “Yup, it could always get worse,” he nodded to the stones. “Message received, Grandpa.”

  With a sigh, he walked toward what remained of his house.

  Xander stepped through the hole in the side of the building rather than using the wooden door, which miraculously was still standing. Like so many other homes on the island, flames had gutted his house. The table had burned to cinders. The legs, weakened by the fire, had given way and the whole debacle rested on the marbled floor.

  He stepped over the wooden debris and paused beside a cabinet that had once rested against the far wall. It, like the table, had fallen in the fire and most of its hardwood split from the heat. Bending over, Xander fingered the delicate shards of glass that protruded from underneath the cabinet’s wreckage. He recognized the pattern on the glass. It had once been a delicate candleholder. Sammy had carried it in and a lit candle to him not so long ago when he was mourning the loss of his parents.

  The stairs in the back of the house were in a state of disrepair. He doubted they’d hold his weight but that wasn’t really an issue. His feet left the ground with barely a thought and he floated up the stairs, hovering an inch or two above their surface as he moved.

  The upstairs was in worse condition than the downstairs. That which hadn’t been destroyed by the fire had been ruined when the island crashed into the Gulf. The front of the house had nearly sheered cleanly from the rest of the building. His bedroom had a gaping hole where his far wall had once stood. Xander remembered there being a desk and chair against that wall once upon a time, but they must have been taken with the rest of the wall in the crash. The chair’s mate still clung to the edge of the room, teetering on the cusp of falling into the street below.

  Luckily for him, the cant of the island allowed the rainwater to pour out of the house, rather than pool and flood what little of his home remained.

  Xander turned to his left and smiled faintly. His bed was still intact and someone had retrieved the backpack he had brought back with him from White Halls. It was sitting on the edge of the bed, his only connection remaining with the real world.

  It wasn’t optimal living conditions to be sure, but aside from now being a little drafty Xander was sure he would make it work. He supposed he could have searched the island for a house less decimated by the past day’s activities but it seemed like far too much of an effort.

  Stepping to the edge of the bed, Xander sat his backpack upright and unzipped it. Sitting on the top of the bag was one of Sammy’s shirts. It had probably wound up there by mistake when they were grabbing their belongings from the sorority house. He didn’t have to lift it from the bag to smell Sammy’s perfume on the clothes. In fact, her scent seemed to seep from the interior of the bag, a constant reminder of the woman he loved and hated all at the same time.

  He was getting ready to toss the bag aside when he felt an unexpected gust of wind. Turning toward the hole in the wall, he saw Patrick shake his red hair, spraying droplets of water into the room. The Irishman looked up apologetically when he saw Xander’s disapproving glare.

  “It’s really coming down out there,” Patrick said.

  “If you came here to gloat or to give me an I-told-you-so speech, just don’t. I… just don’t, okay?”

  Patrick took a step into the room, dripping water onto the floor from his soaked clothes.

  “I didn’t come this far through the pouring rain just to rub your face in everything that’s happened,” he replied solemnly.

  Xander sighed. “Then why are you here?”

  “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” Before Xander could reply, Patrick shook his head. “Not about the girl. I stand by everything I said about her. I’m sorry about your grandfather. He was a really good man and I miss him already.”

  “Thanks,” Xander replied flatly and turned back to his backpack.

  “What are you going to do now?” the Irishman asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure it all out.”

  “You’re, uh, not planning on going after Sammy, are you? We all support you but we’re none too keen on bringing her back into the fold any time soon.”

  Xander spun angrily on his heel. “Is that really why you stopped by? A halfhearted apology because my grandpa died and a crappy segue into explaining all my poor life decisions? Get out.”

  Patrick raised his hands defensively before floating off the ground and drifting toward the hole in the wall.

  “Just think about what I said,” the Irishman said as he prepared to emerge into the driving rain.

  Xander threw Sammy’s shirt at him, though it fell well short of its intended target.

  He growled in rage before turning back to his backpack full of unpacked clothes and Sammy’s lingering scent.

  The car skidded to a stop and Sammy was thrown painfully against the back half of the trunk. She groaned as she tried to brace herself but the car quickly accelerated again, causing her to roll uncontrollably once more.

  She grabbed a hold of one of the trunk’s interior pockets for support but she knew it was meager at best. The driver was careening from side to side on the road and it was hard for her to keep her grip.

  Her hands weren’t tied but that wasn’t very surprising to her. Keeping her hands tied was at best a stopgap measure, since she could easily burn through most materials they’d use to keep her restrained. Being in the trunk, however, meant that she wouldn’t be prone to use her fire abilities. Setting fire to the trunk would do nothing to help her get free and would be far more likely to result in her burning to death before she managed a way to escape.

  Sammy’s stomach was in knots and not only because of the erratic swerving of the car. Without smelling the burned flesh close to her body, she had known the evil hiss of General Abraxas the second he had placed his hand over her mouth. Panic had caused her to hesitate and the General had quickly burned away the oxygen around her nose and mouth, causing her to pass out in mere seconds. She was now the captive of one of the most ruthless men she had ever met; a man she was certain she had killed just a few days before.

  More than just the General, however, she had also seen the eye once again. She had no doubt that the eye belonged to the Fire Elemental. The thought of being dragged before that monster once again left her terrified.

  A quick turn pulled her from her revelry and threw her awkwardly against the side of the trunk. The rough gravel road they had been on became suddenly smoother and the cloud of dust that had been seeping through the edges of the trunk dissipated as fresh air flooded in. Sammy was grateful for both changes, though it only meant they were committed to the long drive to California.

  She tried to remain calm but every time she stopped thinking about being taken before the Fire Elemental, she thought about Xander and his obvious anger toward her. Both situations left her heart aching and she had to stop and wipe her eyes, smearing the dust that had settled on her skin.

  The car lurched again and she heard the squeal of brakes just before being slammed further into the trunk. The car slid to a halt and she groaned, both from the pain and because she heard the driver’s side door opening. Footsteps crunched on the gravel parking lot where they had stopped as they approached the trunk.

  Sammy steeled her nerves, ready to set fire to whomever opened that latch. The trunk popped open quickly and bright s
unlight flooded into the dark interior. Sammy had to squint until a long silhouette stepped in front of the glaring sun.

  “Don’t try to be a hero,” Abraxas demanded as he roughly grabbed a hold of Sammy’s wrist. With a sturdy tug, he pulled her unceremoniously from the car and let her fall roughly onto the large-stone gravel.

  She could have set the General aflame as she struggled to right herself but a look at what remained of his face left her cowering in his presence. The flames from their last encounter had melted his skin like wax, leaving it runny and coalesced in abnormal spots on his face. His nose was barely recognizable, save for the two lizard-like slits of his nostrils. One eye was closed, though she couldn’t tell if the eye was missing or merely covered by the pooled flesh. Part of his mouth was sealed from where his lips had fused together. He was barely recognizable as the barbaric man he had once been, aside from the pointed teeth and tattoos that were still present on parts of his shaven scalp.

  “What?” he hissed. “Are you not happy to see me?”

  Sammy clenched her teeth. “I liked the look of you a lot better last time, when you were on fire and running through the woods screaming like a girl.”

  She spat in his face and caught a backhand across her chin for her efforts. Her head rocked back and she fell against the car. She refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream or cry, so she quickly locked eyes with Abraxas. Sammy slowly opened and closed her mouth, flexing her jaw to make sure it wasn’t broken.

  “Try it again, little girl,” General Abraxas threatened, “and you’ll find setting me on fire a much harder task.”

  Sammy looked at the Fire Warrior and noticed that his attire looked quite a bit different as well. His cloak was gone, which had ignited so well for Sammy before. His leather armor was sturdy and stained with a shiny substance she didn’t recognize, though she could easily deduce that it was a flame retardant. She knew she could always burn his skin but probably not before he did the same to her. Something told her that General Abraxas was probably more willing to be set on fire than she was. She sighed an exasperated sigh.