Fiery Nights

by Lisa Carlisle

  Me likey the distinguished Stone look.

  Whereas Tristan wore his hair longer, his father kept his close-cropped, almost a military cut.

  “Maya, this is my father, Eric Stone. Dad, this is Maya.” He turned to me. “Wait, Maya, I don’t know your last name.”

  Our eyes locked for a moment. I tried to suppress the blush creeping in my cheeks considering all the ways we explored each other, yet failed to share something as simple and elementary as the initial formalities. As if reading my thoughts, Tristan gave me a knowing smile.

  “Winters,” I said.

  Tristan’s father said, “Nice to meet you,” and excused himself before he left.

  My question about how much Tristan had told his mother was quickly answered.

  “Mom, I was telling you about Maya. When I look at her, I see light. All the darkness disappears. I took her to the graveyard to see what would happen, to see what she’d feel.”

  He caught my eye and I’m pretty sure we were both thinking the same thing about how hot things almost got in there.

  “When she walked in, all the spirits disappeared from my vision and I could only see her light. But she didn’t feel anything different. What do you think that means?”

  “I don’t know, Tristan. Gifts are different for everyone. Maybe she has an affinity with some type of good spirits. Or maybe her gift is a connection with you. The light to your darkness.”

  She turned to me. “Tell me, dear. Have you ever felt you were different from others?”

  “Well yes, but no, not really.”

  “How about your family? Anyone have any special abilities?”

  “No. But that’s natural.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I was adopted. So there isn’t a biological connection between my relatives and me.”

  She looked at me sympathetically, which people often did when they found out. I hated that. As if I should be pitied. I know it wasn’t intentional, but still. I love my adoptive parents. And they gave me so much love and support that my biological parents probably weren’t able to give for one reason or another.

  “I see,” she said. “Do you know your biological parents?”

  “No. I don’t know anything about them,” I said, lifting my chin up.

  She opened her mouth as if she was going to ask a follow-up question, but then changed her mind.

  We talked about my life for several minutes longer and this conversation was turning out to be more like one between two women meeting for the first time rather than one trying to figure out if the other had any special gifts. Tristan sat quietly, his eyes focused on me. Isabella then asked, “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a firefighter,” I said.

  “Interesting career choice. What drew you to that?”

  “I’ve always been fascinated by fire,” I said. The three of us exchanged glances.

  His mother put her mug down. Tristan leaned forward.

  “Since when?”

  “Since always,” I said.

  “Please. Will you tell us more?” Isabella said.

  I had to think about that one. This was something about me that nobody knew outside of my family. Our little secret. Not even my best friend Nike. It’s not something you can just share with just anyone without them wanting to commit you. They would think I’m nuts. But then again, Tristan thought I’d think the same thing about him and run away. I had to give them the benefit of the doubt.

  I took a deep breath. “Here goes.”

  Tristan

  Although I knew Maya was special, I didn’t realize the magnitude of how deep it could be. When she began to speak again, I leaned forward, enraptured by her story.

  “We had a fireplace in the living room of the house I grew up in. My parents often had a fire on the colder nights. And I’d sit in front of it in a little rocking chair my grandmother gave me and just watch the fire. Over time, I realized I could do things with it—make it rise and fall, or make it move toward a log to make it catch. I would try to get my parents’ attention, the way kids do—’Look at me!’ I’d say and show them how I could make the fire move.

  “At first they didn’t believe me. But when they realized I was telling the truth, they got scared. After I went the bed, I’d overhear them arguing about it. What they were going to do. Should they tell someone? A psychologist, maybe? Or someone specializing in the supernatural? But then, they thought it was too much for a kid. They tried to ignore it and hoped it would go away.”

  “But Maya, didn’t they see that what you have is a gift?” Mother asked. “When you’re given such abilities, you should cultivate them, not suppress them.” She shot a quick look at me. I scowled back at her in return. Mother and I had different feelings about my abilities. If she had to live with it for one day, I’m sure she’d change her tune.

  Maya answered. “I guess they just wanted me to lead a normal life. When you’re a kid, being special really isn’t so special. You just want to be like all the other kids.”

  “What happened as you grew up?” Mother asked.

  “My abilities didn’t go away as my parents had hoped. They learned to live with it and not fear it or wonder about it after awhile, I think. Kind of like it just being a quirk of someone in your family. But when I became a teenager, I started playing with it more. Doing tricks in the fireplace. They’d tell me to stop showing off.” She grinned. “I guess it was kind of flashy.”

  “Flashy?” I repeated. “It’s rather amazing, I would think. And what about now? You’re a firefighter. That would be kind of an odd coincidence.”

  She smiled in a way that made my inner core simply melt. At that moment, I wanted to scoop her up and find someplace quiet where we could be alone. Somewhere we could continue exploring each other like we had last night where I had only just starting getting to know her body. There was so much more I wanted to know about her—her personality, her likes, and her body and desires. But that would have to wait because right now I really wanted to hear the rest of Maya’s story.

  I smiled back at her in a way I hoped would cause the same effect she had on me.

  “Yes, Tristan, it would,” she agreed, raising one eyebrow. Why was she doing this to me? Didn’t she know how hard it was to concentrate when I simply wanted to pounce on her? We were at my parents’ house for crying out loud, nobody wants to think about sex around their parents, but that promising smile was overwhelming enough to take over all my senses.

  Maya ran her fingers through her straight black hair. I watched her hands that had run so gently over my body last night, stroking me into exhilaration and making me beg for more. She continued, “I use this skill I have with fire—or whatever it is that I have with it—to kind of sense where the fire is going, what it’s going to do. If there’s going to be a big blowout with walls coming down or something like that, I sense it a moment before it happens. It’s not enough to stop it, but it’s enough to sometimes get people out of the way.”

  “Fascinating,” I said so softly I wasn’t sure if she heard me. A sort of premonition for where fire was heading. Was it foresight? Or a connection with fire? Either way, it was something I didn’t understand, nor did I think anyone in my family had ever experienced.

  “But sometimes, sometimes I can,” Maya said.

  “Can what, my dear?”Mother asked. I noticed that she was barely moving, as entranced by Maya’s description of her connection with fire as I was. If not more so.

  “Sometimes I can control it,” Maya said. “The fire. When it’s small enough and not flaming out of control, I can sort of—talk to it. Calm it or slow it down. It may sound crazy, but it’s true. It works.”

  “How does it work, Maya?”I asked.

  “I’m not sure I can explain it. I’ve never told anyone before besides my parents, you know. And I only told them so much because they didn’t want to encourage it, like I explained.” She hesitated before saying anything else. Then she said, “One time I
was on a call for a house fire. The fire was in the kitchen and I was the first one to enter the room. The fire was spreading across the kitchen walls right toward a pan filled with grease on the stove. I was trying to extinguish it, but it was moving too quickly. I knew if it hit the grease, the situation would get a whole lot worse in an instant. But my attempt to put out the fire with the hose was only so effective. So instead I used my mind to communicate with it. I tried to tell it to go in the opposite direction. Not out loud like I’m talking to you now, but in my head. I spoke to it gently and willed it to go away from the stove.”

  When she paused, I realized I’d stopped breathing as I listened to Maya’s story. I sat back and resumed normal breathing patterns and waited for her to continue. Mother must have been doing the same thing since she readjusted in her chair and then focused intently on Maya again.

  Maya continued. “Believe it or not, the fire started moving in the other direction. And it had slowed down. It defied all logic from what I had experienced with house fires in the past. But now, it was under control somewhat so when other firefighters came in, we were able to extinguish all the flames.”

  “Amazing,” I whispered.

  She truly was one-of-a-kind. Not just with her special glow, but she was powerful in her own right. And in bed, forget it, I couldn’t think about that now and get an erection in front of my parents.

  My mother started to speak, but then stopped. Maya noticed as well and encouraged her to continue. “Isabella, would you like to ask me something?”

  Mother hesitated, something I’d rarely seen in someone as confident as she was. Then she said, “I was just wondering—if it wouldn’t bother you—if you could show us. You know—what you can do with fire.”

  Maya’s face darkened for a moment. Oh no, we’d gone too far. Being treated like a freak was something I had experienced and I’m sure she didn’t find it welcoming.

  “Mother, I don’t think that’s appropriate. This is not a circus; she shouldn’t be asked to perform.”

  Maya surprised me by saying, “No, it’s okay, Tristan. I know it’s meant well. It’s just not something I show people often, you know? Give me a moment to think, clear my head.”

  Our eyes met. I nodded in understanding.

  She looked around. “This fire pit out here will work just fine,” she said.

  She then gathered some pieces of wood and small twigs for kindling and put them in the fire pit. “I left my purse inside. There’s a lighter in there.”

  “There’s one in here,” Mother said, reaching into a basket. She handed over one of those longer lighters people often used for lighting grills.

  Maya worked her magic with the fire and had it lit in no time. Then she sat back.

  “Ready for the freak show?” she asked. She didn’t wait for an answer, but focused her gaze onto the tiny flames and my eyes followed suit.

  “I’m going to make it rise now, double in size.”

  I watched the flames rise; indeed, they did double in size! And it happened so gradually, as if it took no effort on her part.

  “Oh my God,” Mother said.

  “That’s nothing, really,” Maya said, brushing it off. “Now I’m going to make it rise more and move. Watch it move steadily from right to left, right to left.”

  I watched the fire, entranced, as it did exactly as she said, moving sinuously from one direction to another as if it were dancing.

  “Brilliant!” Mother squealed, clapping her hands in delight.

  “And now, a funnel,” Maya said.

  The fire then swirled counter-clockwise; indeed, it did appear to take a funnel form. I’d never seen anything like it.

  Maya looked at me and giggled. “It’s not that amazing, Tristan. Your mouth is hanging wide open.”

  Quickly closing my mouth, I recovered my wits. “What about the night of the fire at Vamps? What happened that night?”

  She inhaled. “There was only so much I could do that night. There was an explosion that quickly spread from one wall through the club.”

  “You must have done something,” I said. “Nobody was killed.”

  “I did whatever I could to will the fire to slow it down, calm it, direct it away from where the crowd was rushing. It wasn’t a small kitchen fire, though, so I don’t know how effective I was.”

  “I think you had to have been pretty influential that night in saving people’s lives. And possibly in keeping the fire from progressing. The damage was bad, but it could have been worse. Most of the building was untouched.”

  She shrugged.

  “So maybe I have to thank you for saving what was to become my new business. The building was salvageable. I got it for a steal. It was a quick sale since the owner had business to tend to overseas and said he couldn’t oversee the renovations when they rebuilt the club.”

  Maya clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Go on.”

  I took her hand in mine. “Thank you, Maya. For everything.”

  When I saw the earnest look in her blue eyes, she left me speechless.

  “My pleasure. It changed my life for the better too.”

  I was hoping that she met by meeting me. After searching my brain for an appropriate response, all I could think of were words about fate and destiny, too heavy for the moment, especially in front of Mother.

  As if on cue, Mother spoke. “You have an affinity for fire, Maya. One of the four ancient elements. That’s an ancient power. One we don’t see much anymore.”

  “Would that explain her light?” I asked.

  Mother thought for a moment. “Perhaps it would.” She furrowed her brow as she looked out onto her gardens. “There is so much magical history with light versus darkness. The fact that you two were brought together shouldn’t be ignored.”

  I shifted in my chair and noticed as Maya suddenly feigned interest in a lock of her black hair.

  Mother naturally ignored our obvious discomfort, as always thinking of the bigger magical picture.

  “Tristan, Maya must be the light to counter the darkness.”

  “Mother, what are you talking about? We just met. You’re going to scare Maya away!”

  “It’s okay, Tristan. I’d like to hear more.”

  No woman had shown me such loyalty before. Any other woman I had bedded would surely have bolted on hearing anything so heavy. I wanted to mouth Thank you,but instead made a mental note to thank her later.

  “I don’t know,” Mother said. “But light and darkness are opposites, like yin and yang. They need balance. One shouldn’t exist without the other.”

  “So you’re saying we might balance each other out?” Maya asked, and then caught my eye for a prolonged moment.

  “I’m saying you two need to work together to figure it out.”

  Chapter Six

  Maya

  Isabella asked Tristan to excuse us so we could have some time for “girl talk”. Tristan went to find his father.

  I didn’t know how I felt about this, being left with a woman who was so sure in her skin and thus so powerful, so attuned to the Earth, and who now knew my secret.

  Plus, she was the mother of the hot guy I started sleeping with, whom I just might have some hidden destiny with or whatever.

  “Thank you, Maya, for staying to chat.”

  “What did you want to talk about?”

  She tapped her finger on the table as if debating what to say next. “Some friends and I—we meet here every month during the full moon. Perhaps you’d like to join us one day.”

  “Are they—” I didn’t want to come out and say witches as it sounded weird coming out of my mouth. Would it be offensive? Who knew the PC terms in their world? I searched for a suitable word. “Gifted? Like you?”

  She nodded.

  “Is it—a coven?”

  “We call it a circle,” she clarified. She tapped her fingers again. “I hope you don’t take this the wr
ong way, but I think you have much potential.”

  “For what?”

  “To tap into your gifts. And maybe for a more selfish reason—to help my son.”

  “Oh. Um. I don’t know what to say. I mean, this is all coming on very quickly. I don’t even know how to process everything yet.”

  “Wait right here, please,” Isabella said. “I’ll be right back.” She went inside for a moment and came back with an ornate carved wooden box. When she opened it, I saw a colorful set of cards set against maroon velvet lining.

  “Would you let me do a reading?”

  “What kind of reading?” I asked.

  “Just some Tarot cards. Have you ever had them read for you?”

  “No.” I leaned forward. “Sure, why not.”

  Isabella shuffled the cards and explained how she’d be reading in the Celtic Cross fashion. She had me concentrate on whatever problem or concern I had, and then pick a number of cards. She laid them out for past, present, future, hopes, obstacles and so on. Each time she turned over a card, she said a few words on each, but she didn’t get animated until the end.

  “The Star. Another major arcana. You’ve been feeling the lack of a sense of meaning in your life. And the lack of someone special. You desire more.”

  Suddenly this reading became very personal and I began to blush.

  “You’ll find a connection with someone special, something so deep that you will feel your tie is unbreakable. However, you will be hurt by someone, forced into estrangement.”

  “By the same person?”

  She shook her head. “It’s unclear. You will discover a new ability and things will work out for the better.”

  I shook my head. “What does this mean? A special connection, estrangement, new ability? I’m confused.”

  Isabella put down the cards and looked at me. “Be true to yourself and follow your path. Only then will you get what you desire.”

  For once in my life, I was speechless. Then, trying to lift the mood, I laughed. “Whoa, that was intense.”

  “Need a moment to yourself?” she asked.

  “No, I’m fine.” I needed to direct the attention away from me. “So, Isabella, are you psychic? Can you see the future?”