Illusive Flame

by Girard, Dara

  Illusive Flame

  Dara Girard

  Copyright 2006 Sade Odubiyi

  Published by ILORI PRESS BOOKS LLC

  Digital copyright Sade Odubiyi 2013

  Cover and Layout Copyright 2013 ILORI PRESS BOOKS LLC

  Cover Photo Copyright Jeerasak Soonrai/123rf

  Originally published in 2006 by Kimani Press

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, may be reproduced in any form by any means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading, and distributing of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  To my grandmother who was an inspiration for Victoria.

  Also to my parents—your support is priceless.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek

  About the Author

  Other Titles

  CHAPTER ONE

  Flames clawed at the walls. Only Victoria Spenser could hear their murderous rampage. She glanced around the simple bedroom, knowing there was nothing in it to encourage such a vision. But the fire still snapped, dancing through the darkness as it spread its red cloak-like wings. She didn’t know where the image came from only that something burned. That a fire lived.

  It called to her, haunted her, and seduced her. Its tongue of flames whispering the words only she could hear, casting a spell as it burned and destroyed. She could see the pumpkin-colored flames carrying the taint of evil. Victoria understood the language of arson—manmade destruction, as though the spirit of the fire starter had been trapped inside the flames.

  She couldn’t afford another vision tonight, though. She was in America now. Her life would be different here. It had to be. A normal life was within reach and she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that. She tried desperately to build a shield so the firestarter’s emotions would not become her own, but his emotions were strong. He was too potent to block out. The fire fueled him. He took pride in the merciless rage of his fire. She blindly picked up the clothes from her suitcase and placed them on the bed. Focus, focus. It’s not more powerful than you. Still, the sensations threatened to consume her with their ferocious violence. She could see the flames snapping at the darkened sky; feel the fury and desperation of the man who’d started it.

  She dropped to her knees, succumbing to the force of her vision. Her breathing grew shallow, her throat tightened. Flames swallowed up the building, eating everything in its path. It was the manifestation of a man’s passion—one man’s hatred. She could feel the intense heat of the blaze. She could feel it now burning her skin, blurring her vision. Was he burning himself or someone else? The sensations were too intertwined for her to tell the difference.

  “Victoria!”

  She heard the harsh snap of her Aunt’s voice as though it came from the end of a tunnel. She struggled to reply. Her tongue lay heavy in her mouth. She knew she had to act normal. “Yes, Aunty Janet?”

  “Are you finished unpacking?”

  “Soon.” She hardly heard her own reply. She wiped the sweat on her forehead with trembling fingers. Focus, focus. Why couldn’t she block it out? It threatened to overwhelm her. For a brief, desperate moment she let herself succumb and connected to the mind of the arsonist. He was a fire linguist and had created a riddle. The investigators would have a hard time deciphering this puzzle. He was no amateur. He’d done this before. His fire was cunning, cleverly eating all the evidence of its cause.

  “Victoria, did you hear me?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

  He was at the site watching the building burn or he was burning. Why couldn’t she tell which? She smelled the scent of melting plastic, burning wood. She saw a door laying yards away blown off its hinges. She felt no panic yet her skin felt ripped apart, exposed. Usually the firestarter and victim were separate. Tonight they felt like one.

  Suddenly, a hand gripped her arm. She cried out and turned.

  Her aunt stared down at her with dark, assessing eyes then said, “Come on.” She dragged her to the bathroom then held her head over the sink and splashed cold water on her face. Victoria felt the grip of the vision fade as the icy water struck her. Her aunt cupped her chin, forcing Victoria to face her. “Better?”

  She felt exhausted, but relieved. “I’m just tired from the journey.”

  Janet folded her arms and for a moment didn’t say anything. A tall sturdy woman with graying black hair and skin the color of warm chestnuts, she usually waited to speak opposed to filling any silence with useless chatter. “I didn’t know they were like this. I thought being away might...” She let her hands fall. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have come.”

  “But it was nothing really,” Victoria said quickly. “Probably just a small garbage fire. I’m so tired it felt like more.” She could sense her aunt’s hesitation and managed a smile to reassure her. “It’s nothing really.” She was desperate to stay. There was no one in Jamaica who would claim her. No job that would hire her once they found out about her past. Her aunt was all she had. “It was small flames eating garbage.” She watched her aunt closely. How well she could lie. How easily. She swallowed, feeling a layer of guilt that she had to start her new life based on a lie, but lying had become a part of her survival.

  Janet frowned at her. “Perhaps you are tired.”

  She relaxed.

  “But change your blouse, anyway. We’re going out.”

  A few moments later, Janet studied her critically when Victoria emerged from the bedroom. “Is that all you have?”

  She knew that the blouse was a bit tight, but she’d grown fast and didn’t have money for new clothes. It was one of her best. She’d starched and ironed it too. “Yes, Aunty.”

  Janet drew in her lips, thoughtful. “Hmm. When they said you were a big girl I never imagined this.” She shook her head. “You watch yourself. Men get ideas. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have a hat?”

  “No.”

  “Never mind. I always keep an extra one in the car. Come on.”

  Victoria didn’t ask questions as her aunt navigated her classy black Lincoln through the traffic. Few cars crowded the two-lane road and streetlights only dotted the side, leaving long stretches of darkness. She felt as though they were floating on a twisting, winding black river. Her heart began to pound when she saw a white building with a tall spire in the distance.

  She gripped her aunt’s arm, now understanding t
he need for the hat. A Jamaican church. She knew what that meant “Please. Please don’t. ”

  Janet yanked her arm away. “Stop this foolishness. It’s for your own good.”

  Victoria let her gaze fall, knowing pleading was useless. Dejected, she steeled herself as her aunt parked the car. Her aunt stepped out and opened the trunk. “Choose a hat,” she said.

  Victoria looked at the selection and frowned. “They’re all too big.”

  Janet waved her hand with growing impatience. “Pick something, nuh. You can’t go into the church without a hat.”

  She sighed and selected a purple boater hat with two green feathers on the side. She knew she looked ridiculous, but said nothing.

  Victoria walked with stiff legs across the cement parking lot; dread becoming more present with each step. In the distance, she heard the soft hush of cars driving past. The church was not large. It looked like one of those buildings you’d find as part of a railway set. A few bushes lined the side and concrete steps led to the front door. She saw the door open and a beam of welcoming light spilled through the darkness onto the ground. A small silhouette figure stood in the doorway.

  Victoria felt her heart lift. Perhaps this time would be different Perhaps everything would he different. This was her new life. These people didn’t know anything. She could start afresh. She walked toward the building with growing confidence. The silhouette became an older woman in a peach pillbox hat, paisley dress and polished brown shoes. Victoria would have considered her a handsome woman, if her face didn’t look as though it were trying to suck in her lips.

  “Sister Spenser,” the woman greeted them with a thin layer of censure. “You don’t usually come during the week.”

  “No, I don’t,” Janet replied unaffected by the tone. “Sister Brown,” she said, turning to Victoria. “This is my niece.”

  “Yes, we know who you are.” Her dark eyes hardened. There was no tone of welcome. “Victoria Spenser. ”

  Victoria’s insides grew cold. She’d heard that tone many times before. They knew. Her past had preceded her. “We’d like to see Pastor Fenton,” Janet said.

  “You may see him.” She jerked her head in Victoria’s direction. “But we don’t want her in the church.”

  “This is the house of the Lord not yours. He’ll have to tell me to leave.”

  Sister Brown pointed at Victoria, her voice rose. “She’s been touched by the devil. The very fires of hell run through her blood.”

  Janet stiffened. “I said—”

  Victoria spoke up, taking a step back. “I want to stay outside anyway. You gawan without me.” She saw the woman’s mouth pinch up some more. She knew her accent defined her background. She’d been practicing to improve it. “I mean go on.”

  Janet tugged on her arm. “No, it’s not for man to judge, but for God.” She turned back to the woman. “Sister Brown, I suggest you move before I knock you out of my way.”

  The woman made a move as though ready to do battle, then kissed her teeth and shifted aside. Janet and Victoria walked past her and stepped inside the church. It smelled of worn hymnals and perfume. A collective gasp escaped the group when they saw them. The group consisted of mostly older women. One younger man, in his late thirties, sat behind a piano and openly stared at her. Victoria felt the tiny hairs rise on the back of her neck. An older man offered a brief smile, as did a teenager in full headgear—though it may have been a grimace, she wasn’t sure.

  Janet pulled her down the aisle toward the man at the front. Pastor Fenton stood tall behind the podium, his hands gripping the sides. He kept his expression passive, his deep-set eyes giving nothing away. Victoria wanted to pull free from her aunt’s grasp to hide from the scrutiny, from their condemnation. She wanted to scream I’m a good person to combat the sting of their silent scorn piercing her heart, but she walked instead with her head-high as though their opinion meant nothing.

  Pastor Fenton spoke to the group in a deep soothing voice, looking to the man at the piano. “Brother Rodgers will take over.” He lowered his voice and said to them, “Follow me.”

  He led them to his office, a surprisingly large room for such a tiny church. Bookshelves lined the room as did three bulletins boards and pictures of various church members. He gestured to two seats then sat behind a desk and clasped his hands together. “What brings you here?”

  Janet rested her handbag on her lap. “I think that’s obvious, Pastor.”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Victoria Spenser is finally on U.S. soil again. A pleasure to meet you, my dear.”

  Victoria held out her hand. “Is it?” The corner of her mouth quirked with a bit of malice when she saw a moment of unease enter his gaze, but he hesitated only briefly before shaking her hand.

  When he released her grip, he rubbed his hands together. Either to rid himself of her touch or from nervous energy she couldn’t tell.

  “I want you to bless her,” Janet said.

  He cleared his throat. “Well, I—”

  “Do you not think me worthy of a blessing?” Victoria asked, sensing his discomfort.

  “Every child of God is precious to his Father.”

  “Then I suppose the question is, am I His child?”

  He coughed; Janet sent her a sharp look. Victoria ignored it, keeping a steady gaze on the man in front of her.

  “No,” he said. “That is not the question, but I am careful in situations like these.” He rested his hands on the desk. “There may be a reason for this. It is not always wise to interfere with God’s will.”

  “How do we know it’s God’s will?” Janet said. “Just one prayer please, if it can’t be a blessing. Something to guide her during her stay here.”

  Pastor Fenton paused a moment then said, “Okay. I will pray for her.” He stood and placed a heavy hand on Victoria’s head. He clasped her head in such a strong grip she thought he would crush her skull. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Janet lowered her head and closed her eyes. Victoria kept her eyes open. She’d been prayed for so many times she’d lost faith anyone was listening, but she respectfully kept still and watched a spider using its gossamer string to descend from the-ceiling and land on the computer monitor.

  “Dear Lord!” the pastor said with such vehemence Victoria jumped. “Help this poor woman. She is one of your own. We will not question your reason for cursing her so. We only ask that you help her to carry the burden you’ve given her. We ask that you help to guide her on the path that is righteous. That you lead her to the way that is good. Dear Lord, only you can wash clean the blood of evil that runs through her veins. We ask that you strike out this demon of fire that has taken its claim in her heart.”

  Victoria clenched her teeth, trembling from anger and shame. His prayer was no different than the rest. They all thought she was evil. Cursed, something to be reviled. Maybe they were right, but there was something in her, an unyielding defiance, that refused to believe them. She was a good person, no matter what they said. She clenched her hands until her knuckles paled. She wanted to leave, but the pastor’s strong grip held her hostage. It absently yanked her head side to side as he shook with the conviction of his words.

  “Lord bless her new life,” he continued. “Make her useful. Make her good. Make her one of your own...”

  He continued, but Victoria blocked him out until she heard her Aunt’s final, “Amen.” She loosened her fists.

  “Thank you, pastor,” Janet said.

  He sat at his desk looking weary. “I did my best.” He looked at Victoria and let his eyes trail the length of her. “But the sins of the father—”

  “Yes, I know the verse,” Victoria cut in. “Exodus 34:7. However, I hope God has a more forgiving heart than yours.”

  Pastor Fenton smiled cruelly. “A woman with a sharp tongue. How the sound must grate on the Father that made you. You are a woman. Honey should be the flavor of your words.” He shook his head. “ But you cannot help it. You are a pathetic creature to be pitie
d. Until you change, no man will have you and you will bear no children. Therefore, it is your life’s work to repent and seek forgiveness. Such passion is not normal in a woman of good breeding. I hope that one day your coarse ways will be smoothed.”

  Janet could feel Victoria’s anger and spoke up. “Thank you for your time.”

  He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I think it best you don’t bring her here again. Not that I don’t want her, but she may be in danger from others. Scared people do foolish things.” He stood and nodded towards Victoria. “I will continue to pray for you. ”

  Victoria stood and held out her hand. When he grasped it, she gripped his hand until he winced. She spoke in a low tone. “And I will pray that your hypocrisy never be held against you.”

  He visibly blanched.

  Janet turned to her shocked. “Victoria, how dare you show such disrespect?”

  She released his hand and looked at her aunt. “I only disrespect him because he disrespects me.” She shot him a glance. “He is lying.”

  “A preacher doesn’t lie.”

  She sniffed. “A preacher is a man and men lie. And he did so right inna me face. He speaks as though the congregation doesn’t want me in this church, but he’s the one who doesn’t want me here. He who is given the power to sway people could have tried to welcome me. To push past the prejudices of his people. The people he leads in the path of righteousness. Instead he shuttles me away into his grand office and prays for me so no one can hear.” She rested her hands on the desk and leaned forward, meeting his gaze in challenge. “You pray that I will be good, but how do you know I’m bad?”

  His eyes became flat, his voice heavy with disgust. “Because we know what you did.”

  She straightened as though he’d struck her, feeling the potent sting of his words.

  “She was only a child,” Janet said.

  “Yes, her father’s child,” he said. “She will always be her father’s child.”