Divorced, Desperate and Dangerous

by Christie Craig

Miranda heard air leave the girl’s lungs as she walked up to the front of the stage.

  A fireplace magically appeared on her left, and on the right was a stand with a small candle perched on top. “Each shall light the candle, then move the flame to the fireplace.” The judge’s explanation was exactly what Miranda had feared. What if her fire strayed from the given path?

  “Each contestant will be allowed three tries to complete her spell. Points will be deducted for each failed attempt,” the judge continued. “For safety’s sake, a magical bubble will be placed around each performing contestant.”

  Miranda’s panic eased. The only person she could hurt playing with fire this time was herself. That she could risk.

  “Fire, oh heat, I ask of ye . . .” Tabitha lit the candle right away, but her tiny ball of flame kept losing its power and fading to smoke. On the third try she did it. The second, third, and fourth girls didn’t make it at all. Candy got it in two tries and her twin did it in one. Sienna took two. The next two girls failed. Then it became apparent that she was going to be last. Again.

  Waiting for her name to be called, her heart raced. Even with the magic bubble, the room’s temperature rose. The sensation of being the target of someone’s direct stare picked up again. She wanted to glare at the audience to see who had her under such intense scrutiny, but she needed to focus. Focus on fire.

  “Miranda Kane.” Her name rang loud in her ears. Too loud.

  She moved forward. The magic bubble, invisible with the exception of a light blue tint, started to enclose her. The sounds became muffled. Even her own thoughts seemed too loud. Her first impulse was to escape while she had a chance. Air hitched in her throat. Her palms grew damp with sweat.

  Right before she felt the invisible walls seal together, an odd wash of calm hit her chest.

  You can do this. You can! She thought of seeing Perry. Of having Della and Kylie at her side.

  She extended her hand. “Spark of flame, dance of heat, light this wick, then follow me.” Her thoughts became jumbled. She wiggled her pinky.

  Nothing happened. The candle’s wick remained unlit.

  Desperation rose inside her. She felt the audience’s anticipation of her failure. She started to lower her arm and ask for her second attempt, when a surge of calm, of clarity, rose inside her again.

  Her breath caught as the tranquility filled her lungs. The realization hit. This . . . whatever it was, had not come from within her. Someone . . . someone was manipulating her powers.

  She went to push the aid away, but too late. The wick of the candle sparked to life. The flame rose from the candle and grew to a perfect orb of fire. It floated in midair, waiting for orders.

  Was this her spell, or the work of the foreign source?

  “Go.” A simple hand motion sent the fire into the fireplace and the kindling embraced the heat and a fire with blue flames built inside the hearth.

  The bubble around her slowly started to ebb away like fog. The applause echoed louder. Her gaze shot to the audience. Who had done this? She turned to direct the council to this mishap in their rules, but before the words left her lips, screams echoed behind her.

  Swinging around, she saw the huge orb of fire soaring from the back of the stage. Had she done this? Oh, shit, she probably had.

  The circle of blue-and-red flames flew forward toward the line of her competitors.

  No! Miranda refused to let her stupidity hurt anyone else.

  Without thought, she rushed forward, calling the flame toward her with an inward plea. If you are gonna burn anyone’s ass, it’s gonna be mine this time. The sphere hung in place for a second. Then, spitting out embers, it began rotating, flames flickering from the circle. It must have heard her plea.

  With fire racing toward her, she swept her arms out and over her head and asked with all her soul for the magic to reseal the protective bubble. The invisible barriers rose around her, trapping her and the orb of fire in their own prison.

  The heat in the enclosure stung her skin to the point of pain. Gray smoke thickened the air and burned her lungs.

  Screams from outside of her confinement filled her ears. “Help her! Somebody help her.”

  The invisible bubble shook from the attempted spells slamming into the wall. The spellbound bubble couldn’t be breached.

  “Somebody do something.”

  They couldn’t save her.

  It was up to Miranda. All up to her.

  With the orb of fire hovering right above her, she raised her hand, calling forth the element of water. Her words had no more left her lips when she felt her knees give. Everything went black.

  About the Author

  New York Times bestselling author Christie Craig grew up in Alabama, where she caught lightning bugs, ran barefoot, and regularly rescued potential princes, in the form of bullfrogs, from her brothers. Today, she’s still fascinated with lightning bugs, mostly wears shoes, but has turned her focus to rescuing mammals and hasn’t kissed a frog in years. She now lives in Texas with her four rescued cats, one dog—who has a bad habit of eating furniture, a son, and a prince of a husband who swears he’s not, and never was, a frog.

  If Christie isn’t writing, she’s reading, sipping wine, or just enjoying laughter with her friends and family. As a freelance writer, Christie has over 3,000 national credits, as well as three works of non-fiction, including the humorous self-help/relationship book, Wild, Wicked & Wanton: 101 Ways to Love Like You’re in a Romance Novel. Christie writes humorous romances novels for Grand Central, as well as the New York Times-bestselling Shadow Falls series, under the pen name C.C. Hunter. Contact Christie—she loves hearing from readers—or learn more about her and her work through her website: www.christie-craig.com.