Mentored in Fire

by Breene, K. F.

  Who’s there? I thought, lacing up my boots and standing.

  Silence followed.

  I stopped halfway to the door. He could tear down my simplistic block and come in at any time, so I wasn’t sure what game he was playing. But then—

  That accursed joke is the only one I remember from the Brink. Madman?

  The grin wouldn’t stay suppressed. Madman who?

  Madman feet…open the door. No, that’s not right.

  I tore down the magic. Given the doors hadn’t been fixed, there Lucifer stood, in the same white button-up and jeans as always, black hair slicked back and power brimming within his velvet-brown eyes.

  “Fail,” I said, laughing. “It’s Madam. Knock, knock, who’s there? Madam. Madam who? Ma-damn foot is caught in the door, open up!”

  “Ah, yes.” He laughed. “My mistake.”

  Cahal came to the doorway of his room and Lucifer’s smile slipped, the sparkle in his eyes dimming. Something vicious and wild churned in them instead.

  The moment passed in a blink, and he was back to looking at me, his lips pulling up at the corners. “So. You decided to renovate.” He looked up and around, taking in the ruined doors. He tensed in a way I understood. “May I?” he asked, but I was already clearing out of the way.

  He crossed the space to where he could view the gaping hole where the other doors had been, covered by my haphazard illusion.

  “Not great work.” He winked at me.

  “No. I wasn’t trying very hard.”

  “Hmm.” He looked upward, at the gaping hole and indigo blue beyond. “The stars disappeared last night.”

  “Yeah. My bad. I wanted to breathe air, and the stars got in the way.”

  “Pesky things.” If he was mad, or even annoyed, he didn’t show it. His head stayed tilted, and his eyes roamed the harsh hole. Finally, he lowered his face to look at me. “Should we repair it? Or leave it?”

  My eyebrows ticked up, and a glow warmed my middle. I was just about to ask, “You aren’t mad?” like any kid would, ever. Like I’d asked my mother several times growing up, when she was doing her best to teach me and my train left the rails. It hadn’t been like that with Darius, though, when he’d helped me with my ice magic. With him, I’d apologized, as an equal.

  That thought made me hyperaware that everything in me recognized this guy in front of me as a parent figure, not just a mentor. It was…disconcerting. I never thought I’d think of him that way.

  I certainly didn’t want to give him the power of knowing that. Not until I had more power of my own.

  Trust me to get into a screwed-up situation. It seemed to be my lot in life.

  “Repair it, I think,” I said, double-checking to make sure my thoughts remained mine alone.

  He nodded, looking back up at it. “It’s rough. The lines, I mean. The shape is…off.”

  “My goal was to get beyond it, not create a masterpiece out of it.”

  “Within destruction, there is always an opportunity for a masterpiece.” He put up his hands, fingers together. A blast of hellfire streamed from each, through the center of the hole. He then moved his hands apart, the streams hitting the edges of the hole before traveling in a circle. Halfway through, he stopped. “I didn’t even ask—did you want a circle or an oval? I can cut at an angle.”

  “Oval. Why go for the expected?”

  He looked at me a beat too long, something I couldn’t identify moving within his gaze. He went back to the ceiling. “Yes.” He started again, and then paused. “Ye-es.”

  In a rush of movement, he ceased the hellfire, slapped his hands together, lowered them a little, and blasted out again, the fire now sweeping up the sides of the tower, just below the cut-off top.

  “The unexpected,” he shouted over the noise of grinding stone as he spread his hands apart wider and moved them through the air. He cut perfect waves into the ceiling, rolling berms, as though by a machine and not his steady hand. “The rush of power. The rage. Within it, the beauty. That is hellfire.”

  The small hairs stood up on my arms. Electricity lit my body.

  “Catch it, or we’ll be crushed,” he said.

  Dust rained down. Parts of the already-ruined ceiling broke off, hurtling right for his head.

  I caught the debris without thinking.

  “I could’ve just killed you,” I shouted over the din as more of the building fell. I lifted my other hand, wanting the visual so I didn’t mess up.

  “No, I would’ve killed me. You would’ve just placidly watched my death.”

  He ceased the hellfire as the last of the cut was made. I shoved the detached area upward, now hovering in the sky. “Do you want me to drop it, or lower it, or…?”

  He stepped back from the center of the room. “Lower it to where?”

  “The ground? I don’t know. Where else would I put it?”

  “Can you lower it to the ground?”

  This seemed like a trick question. “I’d probably have to follow it in a hover to see where it’s going, but…yeah. Right? Why?”

  “Well then. Shall we?” He swept his arm out, indicating I should go first.

  “Just so we’re clear.” I hovered up toward the pile of building debris, which I kept in place until I was closer. “I do not have wings. I don’t turn into anything else. So if you know something I don’t, or are playing some sort of practical joke on me, and this ends badly… Well, it’ll end very badly, get me?”

  “You didn’t let me die. I suppose I’ll have to return the favor.”

  “Mighty magnanimous of you.”

  “Yes. I think so.”

  I huffed out a laugh as I followed the hunk of rock over the very smooth edge surrounding the badly removed spire. Lucifer followed me. Given I didn’t hover very fast, I took in the sights as I lowered down, feeling the burden of hovering with a load but bearing it. I’d practiced hovering and fighting with large objects often, so I had great stamina. He hadn’t chopped off much—I’d already pushed off most of the roof—so it was probably the equivalent of a few large rocks.

  From this vantage point, I could see where I’d entered the inner kingdom with Darius, the road in, and the flower-lined fence of the sect we’d snuck into. A pang hit my heart, and I tried to feel through our bond again. It was all but blocked, whatever the elves had done to it still in effect. The memory of him was still there, though, unleashing an ache. I missed his face and his quips. His soft touch and the way he held me. I missed his boring lectures and the wicked ways he made them more fun, and most of all, I missed his grounding presence.

  I took a deep breath and looked away, nearing the ground, finding Lucifer right beside me, peering at my face.

  What? I thought, because it was easier than shouting.

  You are not taxed.

  No. I’ve had practice.

  You’ve had practice lowering building tops to the ground?

  I thought about that a moment. I can’t recall an actual building top, but it’s possible.

  There was that smile again. I had no idea you’d be so far along when I brought you here. I thought I would have so much more to teach you.

  A large divot dug into the dirty, scarred ground, and I figured this was where the spire had landed the night before. It had been cleaned away, as though waiting for this one. Or maybe they didn’t just leave parts of buildings littering the grounds.

  My feet bumped down after the debris, and I shook out my arms and body, which always tensed up when I hovered and moved things around at the same time. Lucifer lifted his hand, now on the ground as well, and I quirked a brow to ask what he was doing. A moment later, Cahal floated over the lip of the topless tower, his arms crossed over his chest, and though I couldn’t see his face, I strongly suspected he was wearing a scowl.

  “Oh wow, you can grab him from all the way down here?” I asked, shocked.

  “You can’t?” he responded.

  I guess I had a new thing to practice. Cahal did not seem like
he would be amused.

  “I thought you might want your safety blanket today,” Lucifer said, and I suddenly wondered if I’d let some of my thoughts slip yesterday. If I had, Mr. Boobs had a big mouth. Either way, it appeared Lucifer had a mind to be reasonable. “I heard you were out late in the garden yesterday.”

  “Oh yeah, how did that go, by the way?” I asked. “With the disturbance.”

  His eyes didn’t so much as flicker. Nothing in his body tensed. And that was what gave him away, because if I had been asking about the dentist or something, he would’ve made some noncommittal movement. He wouldn’t have been this carefully controlled.

  I didn’t read much body language, it was true, but I knew when someone was covering up something that affected me. Darius and a life of hard knocks had been excellent teachers.

  Cahal touched down a few feet away, his arms still crossed. The scowl indeed in place.

  “Thanks for joining us,” I told him, making light of my loaded question to Lucifer. “Now you won’t have to sulk all evening again.”

  Cahal’s scowl hardened before his face went flat. He was playing along perfectly.

  And now I knew what he’d meant about the battle for my soul starting today. The guy was so melodramatic.

  “The Edges have always been wild,” Lucifer said, turning and gesturing for me along with him. “You remember. That’s where you came through, correct?”

  “Yes. And where I left, through flames from your dragon.”

  “Yes.” He drew the word out. “Right. She was upset that you escaped right out from under her. She expected to be punished.”

  I held out my hand, my guts turning cold. Then hot. Then exploding with excitement. “They can talk? I mean, communicate?”

  Yes, he thought. Like we can.

  “Right, right.” I blew out a breath. Tried to play it cool. Failed. “Will I get to see one? Can I talk to one? Do they like being petted? The only ones I’ve seen were trying to kill me.”

  He laughed. “I should’ve known you’d be excited for a dragon. Yes, you will get to see one. And hopefully bond with one. They can only communicate with those they are bonded to. And each other, of course.”

  “How do they bond? Blood, or…”

  He nodded at my hand. “We’ll talk about all that when we go to see them. But first we must get you more up to speed with your magic. They are treacherous beasts. If they sense weakness, they’ll kill you rather than bond you. Let’s see what you learned from yesterday.”

  I called up the flower I’d perfected yesterday, and this time around it was so much easier, probably because I wasn’t half as tired. The shadows fell just right, even as I walked, and the petals moved softly in the very slight breeze.

  “Oh.” I pointed at the sky with the other hand. “You added a breeze to the air.”

  “Yes. I did that early this morning. I noticed the change and thought I’d add a flourish. I didn’t want to make it any stronger because we have leaves in some of the gardens, but no rakes.”

  Not mad, then.

  “Makes sense.”

  “Yes, I thought so.” He stopped and turned, bending to my palm. His eyes roamed before he called up his own flower. A small crease wormed between his brows. Straightening up, he held his next to mine and silently judged the differences.

  “Hers is better,” Cahal said, unasked. “More lifelike. You are out of touch with the human lands.”

  Lucifer’s eyes lifted to mine in what I could only describe as a long-suffering, deadpan look. I giggled like a simpleton.

  “Yes, Cahal, I see that. Thank you for ruining this fine moment.” Lucifer’s flower disappeared and he dropped his hand, his gaze softening. “Yours is better. After one day of intense practicing, you have outstripped the teacher.”

  “It’s a flower. It’s small in the grand scheme of things.” I let it disappear as we started to walk again, feeling an outsized sense of accomplishment. It was…a good feeling, like I’d checked that box and could confidently move on.

  “Cahal, would you mind filling her in?” Lucifer gestured to the right, where a cobblestone path diverged from the one we were on.

  “I told her last night.”

  Lucifer turned to glance behind him. “You haven’t gotten any more likable, druid, has anyone told you that?”

  “Yes. Your daughter. The two of you are very similar, unfortunately. You both have a terrible sense of humor.”

  Lucifer sighed and then glanced upward. “Yes, that was a good change. I do like expressing actions through air. And breathing it. Sometimes it’s just a tedious action, but it can give you something extra to do with your energy.”

  He stopped at a wooden archway made of actual wood, with ivy vines crawling along the top. The light caught the wavy leaves, and I touched them with my fingers, not sensing any magic. “These are real.”

  “Yes. I had soil from the Brink brought in.” He stuck out his hand in invitation, and I ducked my head a little to enter, the ivy crowding the top and obscuring much of the view. Once inside, I lost my breath for a moment, because I instantly knew where he’d taken me.

  I blinked, trying to keep the sting out of my eyes. Trying to keep the wetness merely coating the surface.

  “Druid. Go with her,” I heard. “I will follow at a distance.”

  The dainty wooden arch continued along the path for about ten feet. Rosebushes crawled up the outside, dotted with bright red roses peering in through the green-painted fencing along the sides. At the top, the green of the bush tapered off enough to let in the crystalline blue sky, an illusion on top of an illusion, since the sky was indigo outside the tunnel of roses.

  “It’s exactly like my mother’s garden,” I said, out of breath, a tear breaking free. I swiped it away with a knuckle. “She had a setup exactly like this leading into…” I let another breath loose when I reached the end, tears crowding my eyes now. Pressure lining my chest. A gazebo waited in the middle of a haphazard array of flowers, all different colors and varieties. More roses, daisies, bluebells, orchids. There was no rhyme or reason. No design. They just splashed the area in vibrant color and fragrance—

  “No.” I shook my head, following the little cobblestone pathway that led to the gazebo, the port in the sea of flowers. “That smell isn’t right.”

  I slipped my hand around Cahal’s arm and closed my eyes, salty wetness sliding down my cheeks. The memory bubbled up immediately, fuzzy and soft, years old. I wished I’d had my vampire memory back then so it would be crisper.

  I let Cahal lead me slowly forward, and as he did, I dug into the magic of my surroundings and altered them to smell exactly the way I remembered, with a floral, sunbaked vibrance that seeped into my bones and lightened my mood.

  Eyes open again, the image wavering through unshed tears, I adjusted some of the flowers. Only then did it occur to me that this was probably a rendition of a different garden—the one she’d had before she moved me into the forest, away from people.

  I didn’t care. I wanted it to match up with my memories, not his. I wanted her to live on as I remembered her, not as he’d met her. He likely wouldn’t notice the difference anyway. He hadn’t sat in that garden after she’d died, hours at a time, for weeks, sobbing until his voice was hoarse. Wishing she’d come back. Wishing she hadn’t left me alone in a world I knew nothing of. Wishing I could go with her.

  Crying harder, giving way to it, I felt Cahal pause and realized he was waiting for me to step up. I did, but my toe hit the edge and I stumbled. His strong arms wrapped around me and he hoisted me up, against his chest, walking me the last few feet into her sanctuary. The place where she used to retreat with her books, or her wine. Where she would invite me to sit with her and gaze at all of the beautiful flowers.

  “I asked her often why she didn’t make some sort of design out of them.” I let Cahal sit me on the bench, taking the spot beside me. Then I took his hand and gripped it tightly, needing his touch to ground me. Needing him to keep
me from falling into that dark chasm of despair that I remembered so vividly, vampire memories or no. “She said that nature wasn’t organized. It was beautiful chaos. It was her favorite place.”

  “Well.” Lucifer stood off to the side. “I will let you reminisce. I will ask you, however, to please not destroy it. I understand your pain, and you are welcome to destroy any other garden on these premises, but please not this one. It is special to me. It gives me fond memories, especially now that you are here.”

  He waited for my nod, offered me a bow, and then walked away. I watched him silently for a moment, then let my gaze roam the wild bushes that should really be cut down into manageable shrubbery. They were perfect.

  “She hated pruning,” I said, talking because I needed to. I needed someone to hear me. When I’d sat in this gazebo before—its likeness, at least—I’d been alone. I hadn’t had anyone to share my grief with. I wished it was Darius with me now, but I was grateful for Cahal. “We never agreed on that. She didn’t think it right to turn plants into precise shapes. Which, fine, don’t shape them into elephants, but at least cut them back to a manageable size. They get wild.” I leaned against Cahal’s shoulder, and he let me. “She liked them wild.”

  “Maybe they reminded her of you.”

  My smile was slight. “Maybe they reminded her of Lucifer.”

  I expected him to try to turn the situation into a lesson of sorts, but he didn’t. He let it drop, and I was grateful to him for that.

  I let the tears fall, and a moment dragged a bagful of minutes behind it. Cahal never moved, never shifted in impatience or even because his butt fell asleep. He let me grieve all over again, offering me his solid presence and, if I asked for it, his protection. Not like I’d need it here. Not like I’d ask.

  After a while, which would never be long enough, I took a deep breath and straightened up.

  “I still have to look after the living,” I murmured. “It’s the only thing that dragged me out of the grief. It used to be just me.” I lowered my voice so I couldn’t be overheard. “Now it is Penny, and Darius, and Emery. Well…Darius isn’t exactly living, but…still. You need to leave and find them. Send them home. I’ll get the rest of my training, and I’ll find a way to get out. You have my word.”