by Tricia Barr
“That’s great, honey.” He chuckled fondly. “When and where is this slumber party?”
“Cynthia Masterson’s house on Saturday at five p.m.,” she replied, almost panting.
Her father’s expression fell from one of indulgence to one of restraint.
“Is her father chaperoning the slumber party?” he asked, his tone dry and deflated.
“Yes, and her aunt too,” Phoenyx went on in her enthusiastic manner, not quite aware of, or perhaps choosing to ignore, the change in his demeanor.
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Phoenyx, but you can’t go to that party.”
Her excitement caught dead in her throat and she was completely dumbfounded. “But…why?”
He sighed. “It’s…complicated. You’re just gonna have to sit this one out, kiddo.”
She frowned.
“Daddy, you have to let me go,” she implored. “This is the first time I’ve ever been invited to a party like this. If I don’t go, Cynthia will think I don’t like her, and then she won’t like me, and then her friends won’t like me. I’ve been doing all my homework and I never get into trouble at school. Don’t I deserve to go?”
“It’s not about that, kiddo,” he said, invariable.
“Then what is it about?” she asked, almost demanded.
“I don’t trust Mister Masterson, and I certainly don’t want you spending the night at his house.”
She cocked her head back, bemused. Mister Masterson was a really cool dad. He was always super nice to Phoenyx whenever she came over. He treated her like another daughter.
She wanted to go to this party. She couldn’t afford to miss it.
“Dad…,” she began, reaching out her hand toward his arm.
“No, Phoenyx,” he said sternly, jerking his arm away from her. “Dammit, that’s the reason for all of this. Don’t you get that?”
Her face blanched and she gasped, stunned at both her father’s action and his words. He never jerked away from her like that. What did he mean? Did he know about what she could do? Did he know that if she touched him, she would make him let her go to the party?
“You can’t always have what you want,” he said. “You’re not going, and that’s final.”
She didn’t understand any of this. Why was he so mad? It was just an innocent party. Why was it a crime for her to go? Why was he being so mean?
She felt something stirring up in the pit of her stomach, something similar to the way she felt when she influenced people but this time driven by anger. It was an uncomfortable warmth which began in her very core, and quickly spread through her abdomen.
“You can’t make me stay here,” she said snottily, that warmth making her lose the control she would have normally kept over herself. “I’m going whether you say I can or not.”
“No, you’re not! Now, go up to your room and stop being such a spoiled brat,” he yelled.
That was the first time he yelled at her since she was a little girl. The words “spoiled brat” coming out of his mouth and aimed at her pushed that feeling in the pit of her stomach past the boiling point, and she felt both a sense of shame and of outrage.
At that instant, the stove top spontaneously caught fire, and the flames quickly raced over the counter top behind her father. The smoke detector began to beep and the argument was forgotten.
“Oh, my God,” her father gasped, turning around to stare at the flames as they reached up their tongues to lick the ceiling.
Her mother ran into the kitchen. “What is all this commotion—oh my, what happened?”
“Jane, get the fire extinguisher,” her father yelled.
Her mother ran out as her father pulled up the sink hose and began to spray at the fire.
Phoenyx stood still in all of this, gawking at the flames, her mind blank as in a trance. This must be a dream. This can’t be real. What started the fire? One second the kitchen was fine and pristine and the next it was up in flames.
Her mother ran back into the kitchen, empty-handed.
“I-I can’t find the fire extinguisher!” she cried frantically.
The water from the sink hose didn’t affect the fire in the slightest, and despite it, flames engulfed the cabinets and drawers.
“Ah Hell!” her father cursed, threw down the hose, and swooped up Phoenyx as he ran out of the kitchen.
Smoke filled all the air and stung at Phoenyx’s eyes and throat.
Her blank mind filled with fear. Their kitchen was on fire. At the rate it was spreading, soon the whole house would be, and there wasn’t anything they could do about it. How could this be happening?
“Jane, get Phoenyx out of here and call 9-1-1,” her father instructed her mother. “I’m going to grab what I can. If the fire spreads to my gun rack, we’re screwed.”
Her mother nodded.
Her father grabbed her mother’s face in both hands and kissed her. “I’ll see you guys soon.” Then he took off down the hall.
Her mother grabbed Phoenyx’s hand and they hurried outside. Heat and smoke rushed out the door with them as the cool night air smacked their faces with a kind of harsh relief. They kept running until they reached the street. Her mother whipped out her cell phone and dialed with fumbling fingers.
Phoenyx looked back at the house as her mother spoke to the operator. Flames scratched at the legs of the door frame like cat paws, and small glowing embers flitted out into the night like fireflies.
“Come on, Dad; come on, hurry,” she whispered her urgent prayer. Why did he have to stay in there? Forget the guns, forget everything, she didn’t care about anything they owned, she just wanted him to come out now and be safe.
Several eternal minutes passed and the flames only spread more rapidly all around the house, with no sign of her father. She couldn’t wait anymore; she had to get him out!
She bolted across the yard and sprinted up the stairs, only faintly hearing her mother scream after her to come back. She brushed past the flames at the doorframe, emerging unscathed into the living room. Flames danced across the carpet, twisting and tangling around each other like twirling dervishes.
“Dad!” she called out, the taste of smoke filling her mouth and forcing her to cough. “Dad, where are you?”
She ventured into the hall where she last saw him disappear. It was getting really hard to see anything but she pushed on. She looked around the corner, squinting for any sign of movement. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the flames right beside her. She turned her head and saw that the very place she was resting her hand was on fire.
Why couldn’t she feel it? She literally felt nothing. As she stared, the bright oranges and yellows blazed on over her hand and wrist, as if they were passing right through her, as if she was a ghost they could not touch.
The image and what it might mean triggered an instant cold fear in her stomach, and then immediately after, the fire began to gnaw at her flesh and she felt her skin sizzle.
“Ahhh!” she groaned, ripping her hand off the corner and hugging it against her chest. “Dad, please!” she cried.
Before she could take another step, large rubber-coated arms wrapped around her and picked her up. Elated that her dad had found her, she turned to look at his face but it was not her dad. It was a man she didn’t know, a fireman, and he was carrying her out of the house.
“No!” she yelled, struggling to get out of his embrace. “No, I have to find my dad!”
He pulled her, kicking and screaming, back into the street, as other firemen rushed toward the house with fire hoses.
The fireman released her and she was immediately recaptured by the embrace of her mother, who coddled her and wept over the fresh burns on her arm. But Phoenyx didn’t care. She kept her eyes glued to the house, praying desperately that her father would emerge any moment.
Suddenly, there was a boom, and then a louder boom, and then the back end of the house exploded, throwing pieces of wood and embers up into the air, only to
land angrily on the ground all around.
“No!” Phoenyx moaned. “No! Dad, come back!”
* * * *
“No!” Phoenyx mumbled, the sound of her own voice pulled her out of her dream as she snapped up into a sitting position, swatting at invisible hands that no longer restrained her.
She looked around, reorienting herself for a moment. Lily was sleeping soundly, and Phoenyx was grateful that her restless sleep sounds hadn’t disturbed her. There were sweat beads on Lily’s forehead, calling attention to Phoenyx’s own sweaty body. It was surprisingly hot in this room. In fact, if she didn’t know any better, she could swear the bars of their cell were glowing ever so slightly, and radiating waves of heat.
She turned to her left to check on the guys. Sebastian was snoring faintly, a line of drool dripping on one side of his open mouth. How was it possible that even snoring and drooling he was adorable? She moved her gaze to Skylar, whose own gaze was on her. She gasped, surprised to know that he was awake, and that his eyes bore into her, seeing right through her. What had he seen?
“Can’t sleep?” she asked, ignoring the elephant in the room.
“No, it’s too hot and uncomfortable in here tonight,” he said.
“Yeah, you would think they could at least turn on the AC down here,” she said. His eyes were still on her, making her push her hair behind her ear self-consciously.
“Sorry,” he said, looking away. “I don’t mean to pry. Force of habit.”
She nodded. “It’s okay. You probably can’t always help what you see.” She swallowed. “So…you saw my dream?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry about what happened to you.”
She nodded. “After years of thinking about it, I understand the reason why he didn’t want me to go to that party. Obviously, he knew about my power. How could he not? I’d used it on both him and my mother so many times. He had to know I had used it on Mister Masterson too. I couldn’t see it at the time but there was something unhealthy about how much Mister Masterson liked me, and my dad knew it. It was all because of the way my power makes people feel. I brought it on myself. That’s why my dad didn’t trust him. He was afraid that feeling would lead to…something else.”
“That’s why you stopped using it,” Skylar said. “You blame yourself for what happened to your dad. The fire wasn’t your fault. Did you ever find out what started the fire?”
“The insurance investigators said that all they could figure was a fuse had blown,” she explained. “They couldn’t explain why the fire spread so rapidly. After the explosion caused by the can of gun powder my dad kept, it was hard to tell what really happened.
“Of course I blame myself for what happened. We were yelling and the next thing I know the house is on fire. I was being a rotten spoiled brat; my dad was right and, because of it, God or whoever punished me. That was a lesson I made sure I heeded.”
There was that years old nagging fear coiling in her gut like a snake but she shook it off, refusing to let it surface where Skylar could see. That was one skeleton she wanted to keep buried forever and forget completely.
“Anyway, thanks for listening to me,” she said. “I haven’t talked to anyone about this since it happened. Actually, I avoid it at all costs most of the time. Thank you for not prying. I can’t imagine you want to see people’s nightmares.”
“You’re right about that,” he said. “Although Sebastian’s dreams are quite entertaining sometimes.”
“Oh yeah?” She brightened up. “What’s he dreaming about right now?”
Skylar looked down at Sebastian. “He’s in a field that is basically a giant pizza. The ground is all cheese, there are giant mushroom cottages and trees made out of pepperoni…and he just dived into a marinara sauce lake.” Skylar laughed. “Damn, his hunger is making me hungry.”
Phoenyx giggled, picturing the scene of Sebastian’s delicious sounding dream.
“Well, I’m going to try to go back to sleep,” she said. “See if I can’t at least dream about getting some food too.”
“Good thinking,” Skylar said. “Hey, it’s not so hot anymore. Isn’t that strange?”
Phoenyx thought for a moment and noticed that all the heat had dissipated and the cement was once again exuding cool like the other side of a pillow. Then she lay back down flat against the cement and let the cool soak into her skin as she closed her eyes and begged for sleep to come soon.
“All right, now before we get too ahead of ourselves, does anyone have any kind of fighting experience?” Phoenyx asked.
Lily’s watch showed it was early morning and they prepared themselves for when the large man would return, their chance to escape.
“Well, Skylar and I have been in plenty of fights but we’re no heavyweight champs, that’s for sure,” Sebastian said. “As long as we are all vigilant with our powers and you girls scratch and kick and punch whenever you have to, I think we will get out of here just fine.”
Phoenyx took in a deep breath, and said, “You’re right,” as she exhaled.
“Quick!” Skylar whispered loudly. “Someone is approaching the door. Ready, Sebastian?”
Sebastian nodded and then his face went blank with concentration.
The door clanked unlocked and then swung open. This time when the large bald man stepped inside, he paused, did a double take of the room and dropped the large paper bags at his feet. His face went sallow and he looked clearly distraught.
“Shit,” he muttered. Then he approached the cell to take a closer look and assess his next move.
As soon as he came close enough, Phoenyx grabbed his arm. He jumped in shock and confusion, but then quickly relaxed, soothed by her touch.
“Don’t be afraid,” she said in a sultry voice. “You want to help us. All you have to do is unlock these cells and let us out.”
“I would but I don’t have the key,” he said, his eyes locked on hers, looking like a love-sick puppy.
There was a collective sigh of disappointment behind her.
“Who does?” she asked.
“Dexter has it,” he confessed eagerly.
“Is there any way that you can get the key for us?”
“Uhhh, I don’t know,” he said. “He keeps it hidden in his office and no one is allowed in there. I will gladly try.”
She frowned. Why did we just assume this automaton would have the key? This really put a damper on their plans.
“Ask him what we’re doing in here,” Sebastian whispered.
“Right, why are we locked up in here?” she asked the oaf.
“Because, you four are the Bound Ones, from the legend,” he said as if it was simple and obvious.
“The Bound Ones?” she asked, feeling like she just stepped into The Twilight Zone. “What legend?”
“Yes, the legend we learn when we join the brotherhood. The legend of the Bound Ones says that, thousands of years ago, man was a slave to the elements. Man could not master crops because Earth was fickle. Volcanic eruptions would swallow whole villages and earthquakes would topple any and all of man’s accomplishments. Man could not master the sea because Water was too proud to be tamed. Air constantly tore apart cities with tornados and hurricanes, and Fire ravaged everything in its path. So our forefathers, the wisest of the Celtic sorcerers, forged a powerful spell binding each of the four elements to a volunteer from the rite, so that man would have control over the elements, rather than be controlled by them.”
“So…you’re saying that the four of us each have one of the four elements inside of us?” she asked, unable to keep the tone of doubt from spewing out.
“Yes, you are Earth, Air, Fire, and Water in bound human form,” he said, as if none of this sounded ridiculous.
Phoenyx turned around and looked at the others. Their faces were a mixture of skepticism and pensiveness.
“If this is true, what makes you think we are these Bound Ones? Wouldn’t they be long dead seeing as this legend happened so long ago?” Skylar asked.
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br /> “According to the legend,” the bald man began, “the spell was made to keep the elements bound in human form through reincarnation. The elements are eternal and cannot be destroyed, so if the bound human died, the element would once again be free. The spell was made to assure that once the human died, the element would be immediately reborn into another human vessel. Unfortunately for our forefathers, they didn’t take into account how that would make it impossible to keep track of them. After the first volunteers died, we lost hold of them permanently.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you think these Bound Ones are us particular four people,” Skylar argued.
“There was another partition in the spell,” the man continued. “When one of the Bound Ones dies, all die, and when one is born, all are born.”
That struck a chord in all of them.
“That’s why we all have the same birthday,” Lily said.
“That’s why they want to keep us alive,” Sebastian said. “They think if one of us dies, we’ll all die.”
“Yes,” the man said.
“That doesn’t prove anything,” Sebastian said. “So we were all born on the same day. Big deal. There must be thousands of other people all over the world born that same day.”
“You were all born, not just on the same day, but at the exact same time,” the man said. “Your births coincided with the deaths of four people who showed signs of being the previous Bound Ones.”
“We were all born at the same time?” Lily thought out loud. “That would definitely bring the odds down quite a bit. Approximately two-hundred and fifty people are born every minute—at least, that’s what I remember from my nursery rotation.”
This was ridiculous. It had to be. These people clearly had some screws loose…then again, the four of them did have powers. That couldn’t just be coincidence. That same nagging, writhing feeling reared its ugly head once more. She ignored it and went on with the interrogation.
“Okay, so let’s say we are the ‘Bound Ones’,” Phoenyx said, air-quoting with her free hand. “What do you want with us?”