Of Flame and Light: A Weird Girls Novel

by Cecy Robson

  My fingers clasp around something cold and metal.

  Protegeme.

  Heat builds within my arm.

  Defiendeme.

  Lightning strikes.

  Protegeme.

  Tears leak from my eyes.

  Defiendeme.

  And what breath remains abandons me.

  My lungs sear in pain, but it doesn’t compare to the burn that combusts from my core and arm, or the crash of lightning that booms, electrifying the atmosphere.

  I don’t remember leaving my circle. Nor do I feel my back scrape along the floor. But I remember the impact of my spine driving against the grey pavers the makes up the far wall.

  My focus fades, from far away where my classmates are gaping at me from the safety of their circles, to near my feet where the Superior witches wait.

  Nora, kneels beside me, shaking me. “Taran, can you hear me?”

  I try to nod, instead my head turns off-kilter. What remains of my brass circle is nothing more than warped pieces of broken metal. In five different spots, gray piles of goop smolder, reeking of sulfur and mixing with the scent of brimstone.

  Nora glances behind her, to the other Superiors. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Superior Kanah says.

  The other Superior shakes her head. “Excuse her, Nora,” she says, turning away like it’s too hard to look at me. “The others can try tomorrow.”

  “What happened?” I mumble. I barely get the words out and I’m not sure if Nora can hear me. Somehow she does.

  “All five demons came after you,” she said. “They were drawn to you like nothing I’ve ever seen. I tried to return them to hell, as did my sisters. But they swarmed you, something within you keeping them here and thwarting my will.”

  “I didn’t keep them here,” I say, my throat so dry it hurts to speak.

  “No,” Nora says, her attention falling to my arm. I don’t realize it’s glowing until the light fades in and out across her skin. “But I think your appendage did. These demons didn’t want to possess you, Taran. They wanted you dead.” She strokes my hair. “But your arm and your will wouldn’t let you die.”

  I’m not sure what she’s saying or if she understands it herself. But I’m done. “Am I excused?” I ask. I don’t really want to ask, but if I don’t follow protocol or if I fail to respect her, I won’t pass. And if I don’t pass, I’ll be back here again.

  No way in fuck do I want to do this again.

  “You are,” she says. “You passed.”

  She tries to help me to my feet, but I stumble away from her.

  The image of the first demon’s face flashes in front of me before I make it to the door. It’s the remains of the evil, mocking me. I shouldn’t let it get to me. I should know better, just like the Lessers in the class before us. But like them, I take off, running fast.

  Unlike them, I’m not moving in a straight line, I’m bouncing off the wall like a pinball as Nora calls to me. “Taran, wait. You’ll need to wash.”

  Another image appears, this one of a different demon, the one like boar. I dig through my pockets, pulling out my keys as I reach the first level.

  The late afternoon sun blinds me as I practically fall down the front porch steps when I make it outside. I welcome the light, thinking it will keep the darkness away. But they continue to come.

  All of them

  I’m trying to slide my key into the ignition of my sedan when a humanoid face slides along the windshield. I think I’m going crazy, especially when my darkest memories pop in and out of my mind like a strobe light.

  Common sense begs me to stay, compelling me to return to the mansion because I need help. But fear urges me to leave and put distance between me and this place.

  I stomp on the gas, not realizing I still have my emergency brake set until I’m almost out of the compound. I don’t remember the drive home. Nor do I answer my phone ringing relentlessly through my Bluetooth.

  Under other circumstances, I wouldn’t drive, not like this. More than once, I almost run off the road, the images of those dark creatures and memories popping in front of me and making me lose control. As I pull into my neighborhood, what little focus remains abandons me. I ram up the small incline on our front lawn and leap from my car, not bothering to set it in park.

  Koda speeds past me as the car rolls down the hill. My sisters call after me, but it’s Aric’s voice that rises above them.

  “Celia, no,” he growls. “You can’t be near her. Not now.”

  I race forward, crashing against the wards when they won’t let me through. Emme and Shayna clutch each arm as I fall back. I think Emme’s crying, maybe Shayna is, too. But Shayna pushes through it, hoisting me up.

  “The wards sense the evil that remains, T,” she says. “Let us help you through, okay?”

  I don’t answer, letting her speak for me. “Pace,” she says.

  I’m trembling, the adrenaline shooting along my veins mixing with my residual fear. I pitch from side to side like I’m standing in the middle of an earthquake. I barely keep my feet as Shayna and Emme cut a hard left, past the front staircase and down the hall to my room.

  Alice babbles as she trudges behind us, completely beside herself.

  “It’s not real what you’re seeing,” Shayna says. “It’s memories and all that leftover darkness.”

  I know as much, that doesn’t stop the mind-screw of images parading across my line of sight.

  My mind latches out to images of our dead parents, lying unmoving and covered with blood before the demon with the long tongue shoves them aside, its tongue flapping, eager for another taste.

  “God damn it!” I scream, kicking at the air.

  “It’s okay, honey,” Emme says. “We know what to do.”

  They guide me into the bathroom where my extra-large tub is filling, the water almost at the top. But I still see those wicked faces getting closer and the nightmares of my past growing more vivid.

  Emme and Shayna work fast, stripping me out of my clothes. I didn’t tell them any specifics, and assume someone else gave them the heads up. I’m not sure who until Shayna says his name. “Gemini is coming. He’s almost here with the salts you need to cleanse this stuff,” she says. “Do you hear me, T? He’s going to help you.”

  Pale yellow light surrounds me as soft hands cup my face. The pain along my back, knees, and head, secondary to what I’m seeing, lifts, along with that awful weight. The moment it’s gone, they remove the last of my uniform, leaving me only in my panties and bra.

  Gemini races into the room, his feet stopping where my stare has fallen to the floor, a small burlap sack in his grasp. I don’t want to look at him, worried I’ll see the face of a demon where his face should be.

  Maybe he knows. He sweeps past me, tearing open the bag and dumping the contents into the water.

  “I healed her injuries,” Emme says, her voice carrying all the fear she feels. “But she’s not well.”

  All five demons appear at once, their faces swirling in a circle on the floor and making me dizzy.

  “They’re here,” I manage to tell them.

  “No, they’re not,” Gemini says. His shirt falls over the faces of the demons, along with his jeans, shoes, and socks.

  “Giver her to me,” he says, tucking me against him with one arm.

  Shayna and Emme leave as he reaches for the clasp in my bra. The door closes softly behind us as Gemini’s black boxer briefs hit the floor.

  My bra and panties quickly follow. I don’t fight him, my face resting against his shoulder as a sob rips through my throat.

  “Shhh,” he murmurs. “Nothing will hurt you as long as I’m here.”

  He lifts me, lowering us both into the tub. I gasp when the warm water surrounds me, that awful filth seeping through my skin and drifting away.

  The relief is immediate, as if I’m drawing my very first breath after almost drowning in a pool of liquid cement.

  I fall limp against Gemini’s che
st. He hooks his arm across my waist, lowering me with my head against his shoulder so only my face skims above the surface. My body remains pressed to his as he reclines against the side of the tub.

  “I’m going to bathe you,” he whispers against my ear.

  My heavy lids and thick lashes veil my vision. But I feel everything he does to me. He passes a sponge along my face until the last speck of darkness is nothing, but a memory.

  Yet his touch remains.

  He sweeps the sponge along my side and down to my hip, barely grazing my curves until he reaches my backside and something changes. He tucks my legs against me, squeezing the water from the sponge above my knees. The water drips in a slow cascade, trickling over my breasts as his ankles fasten over mine, keeping me close to him.

  If he’s trying to keep his motions innocent, he doesn’t quiet succeed. Each stroke turns more sensual, teasing, erotic, building the heat inside me.

  His hands drop to the swells of my heavy breasts, circling each, spiraling closer to the center until the edges of his fingertips graze my very taut nipples. I want to arch my neck and kiss him. But I don’t dare move, needing him to prove I’m the one he desires.

  Except my body doesn’t fully obey. My spine arches and my hips grind against him, speaking my need while my voice gives nothing away.

  The sponge he held floats by me as his hand skims between my breasts to cup my jaw, lifting it up and exposing my throat.

  His lips dip down, passing sweet kisses along my wet skin. His other hand wanders lower, his fingers stretching open as they pass my belly. He pauses above my throbbing center, my desperation for his caress almost making me cry out.

  He’s holding back, likely unsure if he should proceed. But I want him to, and prove it, placing my hand over his and gliding it down.

  I don’t realize it’s my affected arm that’s pressing him to me until my hand slides past his and he lifts his lips away from my throat.

  “I should go,” he tells me.

  He stands, moving stoically away from me.

  Water falls down his bare skin in streams as he steps onto the cobalt blue tile. “It’s gone,” he says, keeping his back to me. “Whatever remained has been purified by the water.”

  I’m supposed to answer and pretend he didn’t touch me the way that he did. But I can’t. Not when my body is still seething from his touch.

  “You can stay in the tub if you’d like,” he says, his voice strained. “What remains can’t harm you and the water and salts will help you relax.”

  “Relax”. That’s a funny word considering what he just did to me.

  He bends to retrieve his clothes. He may be talking to me, but it’s like I’m not even here and his hands never touched me.

  I use my legs to push to the side of the tub, placing my arms on the ledge to keep me in place. “Why are you doing this to me?” I ask.

  His response is immediate. “I wanted to help,” he explains, keeping his face forward. “Your instructor told us what happened and how you left without treatment.”

  “Us?” I ask, not that I need to ask who he was with.

  Against the large wall mirror, I can catch sight of his profile and how the muscles along his jaw tense as if pulled. His focus stays fixed to the way out. Not that I would expect anything different form him.

  “You know I was there,” he says. “I’ve been there every day since you started your training.”

  “Don’t pretend you’re there for me,” I bite back.

  “Taran—”

  “I don’t want your help,” I say, disturbed by how vacant my voice sounds. “Not when it leads to this.”

  He bows his head, frustration scrunching his features. “You don’t understand. You never have.”

  “I think I do,” I reply.

  Today was literally hell. There was pain, demons, fear, and evil. But it doesn’t quite compare to the torment he alone brings. No, this is an entirely different kind of agony.

  “I don’t want you here anymore,” I say, realizing for the first time how much I mean it. “Nothing good ever comes when you’re near me.”

  “Don’t tell me that,” he growls, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me!”

  My face falls against my arms. I may have felt numb before, but that feeling is gone. At once, everything I feel for him surges, causing my arm to twitch, its need to unleash fighting against Vieve’s bind.

  Vieve.

  Genevieve.

  Damn it.

  I pull my arm closer, trying to shield it as I crouch there naked. “Just go,” I say. “I need you to leave me.”

  I’m not sure if he will. But when he whirls around and sees my spastic arm banging against the side of the tub, he does.

  My other hand passes over my zombie limb, stroking it, trying to soothe it. The trembling ceases, yet the glowing resumes, casting light across the wet bathroom floor.

  As much as Geminis actions and words upset me, his leaving crushes me more.

  “Nothing will hurt you as long as I’m here,” he’d said.

  He’s wrong. Everything hurts because of him.

  Chapter Twenty

  I adjust the damn bonnet on my head and stare out at the marsh. It’s bad enough to go trekking through a cornfield at six in the damn morning, without coffee mind you, because hey, that’s not allowed either. But now my pilgrim shoes are sticking to the thick mud, and you know that’s going to earn me demerits or whatever the fuck.

  Three weeks. That’s how long it’s been since Gemini marched out of my bathroom. That doesn’t mean I haven’t seen him. He’s here every day, but he’s not here to see me.

  He’s tried to approach me, and say hello. But I don’t bother with a ‘hi’ back, or even a glance his way. It infuriates and hurts him, the tension between us growing more pronounced every time I walk away.

  He doesn’t realize it hurts me, too. I want something, anything between us at this point. But it’s just not possible.

  Vieve is always close, never far from his side. It’s hard to see. But even when I don’t see them, I hear all about them.

  I sit in class, listening to my cohorts ramble on about how hot, sexy, and smart Genevieve’s “boyfriend” is. I want to tear my hair out and pretty much shove what I pull up her ass.

  “It’s not true,” Celia insists. “Aric is adamant that there’s nothing but friendship between them.”

  But she can’t sniff lies and I know Aric is doing all he can not to upset her.

  Paula squishes to a stop beside me as I reach the edge. I step to the right slightly, doing my best not to place my feet in the gooey embankment. “Hi, Taran,” she says.

  “Hey, Paula,” I reply, wishing I could offer a better smile than I do.

  The others nod my way. We’re not all exactly buds, but I’m slowly starting to get to know everyone. All it took was getting swarmed by five demons, and sending them back to hell in pieces when they tried to kill me, to earn me some respect. Had I known, I would have done it sooner.

  Never mind, I’d rather set my eyebrows on fire.

  In the distance a large bird squawks, shaking out its dark feathers when it lands atop of a nearby tree. The marsh is enchanted, as in not real. Most likely it’s a small lake or even a creek that’s been enlarged and majicked to resemble one.

  What appears to be ancient weeping willows gather around the oblong-ish perimeter, the tips of their wispy branches skimming across the mist-colored surface. A few frogs sing from their spot on a large boulder while a crane lands on a drifting log. Whoever cast this spell meant to flex her magical muscles and intimidate all of us “Lesser” beings.

  “You doing okay?” Paula whispers.

  “I’m fine, cutie,” I tell her, my voice catching when I take a good look at her.

  Her fair skin is an odd shade of white. She’s scared. My head whips from side to side, everyone’s scared. I was mostly too sleep-deprived to notice on my walk in, and in a way
I still am. That doesn’t mean I’m not starting to wake up now.

  Everyone around me is emitting that awful vibe you feel when you’re at a funeral and the first mound of dirt get tossed over the casket.

  “Did someone, like, die?” I ask.

  Courtance—or whatever that Lesser’s name is—keeps her attention ahead. “Not yet,” she answers, totally not joking.

  Okay, following Anti-possession class, and with Séance class still weeks away, I determined nothing could get worse until finals. As I scan the faces around me, I wonder if perhaps I made an erroneous assumption.

  “Didn’t you read the syllabus last night?” the Lesser with the tiny lips asks.

  No. I was too busy sleeping from all the damn weeding and chanting following another round of Plant Week.

  “Of course,” I lie, because we’re not exactly besties. In fact, just yesterday she laughed at my chanting and rolled her eyes at my watering.

  I start to press for more information when I see a long gray body skimming across the water’s surface.

  For the first time ever, I want it to be a dead body—something that may or may not have pissed off something powerful and may or may have not received what he or she deserved. But this isn’t a human body. Not even close. Not with all the spikes along its back and a snout as long as my torso.

  Who needs coffee? A crocodile coming at you—oh, and look, here come more of his friends—is all the virtual java a gal could ask for. I back away from the water’s edge, and I’m not alone. The three witches in front of me practically tit-punch each other in their haste to scramble up the hill.

  “Problem, ladies?” a sweet voice echoes, halting us in place.

  That sweet voice is layered with lots of magic, the kind that snags your attention and makes you pay attention, despite what’s around you. I shudder, trying to shake it off, and hating how it seems to tug at my clothes and lift my chin in its direction.

  I try to fight the pull, scowling as my neck is wrenched to the right and my arm twitches in annoyance.

  Agatha, the Superior witch with the grannie blue hair and silver staff, who is about as endearing as a pit full of snakes, appears through the parting mist.