Oh God, it's happening again.
She clenched her hands, digging her nails into her palms. The pain only intensified the burning deep within.
"Please, just leave me alone," she whispered. "I don't want to kill anyone else."
The wraiths danced and mocked her, paying her words no heed. Something flicked across her face, stinging. She jerked her head away, and felt warmth seep down her cheek.
The heat in the room leapt. A log exploded in the hearth and sparks flew through the room.
The wraiths laughed.
Maddie screamed as the burning broke loose.
Chapter Nine
A scream split the silence. Maddie. Jon knew it was her from the tone and the sudden leap of fear across his senses. He jumped to his feet and ran for the door.
The other guests had risen, getting in his way, slowing him down. He pushed past them roughly, ignoring their indignant mutterings as he took the stairs two at a time.
The suite was locked, and his key wouldn't open the door. Jon swore softly. She must have bolted it.
"Maddie!" he yelled, pounding his fist against the door. "Open up."
She didn't answer. Either she couldn't hear him or couldn't get to the door. He thumped the door again then realized the wood was hot to his touch. Burning hot.
Hell."Maddie!" He stepped back and kicked the lock. The door shuddered under the force of the blow.
He kicked it again. The wood near the lock cracked.
"Need help?" a voice said to his left.
Jon barely glanced the man's way. "Get everyone out of here," he said tightly. "There's a fire in the room."
The man nodded and began ushering the other guests back down the stairs.
Jon stepped to the side of the door, and grabbed a nearby plant box. He glanced towards the stairs to ensure no one was near, then heaved the heavy planter at the lock. The door exploded inwards, crashing back against the wall.
Heat rushed out at him, not flame. He threw up his arm to protect his face and stepped into the room.
The thick, acrid smell of magic swirled around him. A log had rolled free from the hearth, and flames danced across the carpet, reaching fiery fingers towards the sofa.
He quickly kicked the log back into the fireplace, then stamped out the flames scorching the carpet.
Why was the room so hot? Certainly the small blaze would not have caused such heat…
A small sound jerked him around. Maddie sat in one corner, hugging her knees and slowly rocking back and forth.
He could see her terror in the way she huddled, smell it in the confusing swirl of her aura. Yet oddly enough, he sensed it wasn't entirely fear of the dark magic that was thick and strong in the room. She was afraid of something else, something he couldn't name.
He frowned and knelt down beside her. "Are you all right?"
A cut marred her cheek. The wound was thin but deep—like the mark left by the lash of a whip.
Something had attacked her. The lingering dark magic had to have been involved.
But were Hank and Eleanor? They had only been gone a few minutes before Maddie screamed. The spell, no matter what it was, would have taken longer than that to set up. Magic wasn't something you could rush into. It had strict rules that had to be followed, or it could lash back at the sender.
But the why and how weren't really important right now.
She gave no sign that she'd heard him, no indication she knew he was there. He touched her shoulder gently, but almost instantly jerked it away.
She burned as hot as the room. The fire wasn't the cause of the heat, he realized. She was. The other talent he'd sensed in her, the one she couldn't control, was pyrokinesis. The ability to light fire with just a thought.
"Maddie!" He grabbed her shoulder again. Heat burned into his palm as he shook her. He ignored it. He had to get her out of here. The foul taste of magic was still thick in the room and might be dangerous.
"Are you listening to me? You have to get out of here."
"I know," she whispered without looking up.
He frowned when she didn't move. "Are you hurt?"
She hesitated, then shook her head. "No. But if I move, I might lose control."
Just how strong were her abilities if the heat in this room was under control? "Well, you can't stay here, either."
He leaned forward and picked her up. It felt like he was holding a furnace close to his chest, not a woman.
She tensed in his arms, and her gaze jerked up to his. Her eyes were wild and unfocused, full of heat. "I don't want you to get burned.".
"I'll be fine," he said. "Just don't let the power go." If she did, they could all die.
She nodded and looked away. He turned and headed for the door. Heat washed around him, thick and cloying. Sweat began to run down his forehead. He ignored it, ignored the slick wetness running down his chest and arms as he held her close.
"Control it," he whispered, and made for the stairs.
From the little he knew of pyrokinesis, he had to get her somewhere cold and quiet until her power was under control. That meant outside, in the rain.
There was a small seat under the old pine out in the front yard. He gently placed her on it, then knelt on the wet grass in front of her. Though he wanted to keep her in his arms, he sensed that touching her any more than necessary was the worst thing he could do right now.
"Imagine the heat as a wall, Maddie." He sat back on his heels and watched her carefully.
Her gaze jerked up to his. Confusion ran through her eyes before her gaze skipped away.
"Why?" Her soft voice was hoarse, apprehensive.
"Because you have to contain it, or it will consume us all."
She blinked, and he saw the gleam of tears in her expressive eyes. So the fires had already claimed a life. Had it been someone close?
Her fingers clenched into a fist. "A wall," she said, and closed her eyes.
"Now, imagine yourself holding a rope of water around that wall." He was tempted to cross his fingers.
His knowledge of fire-starters was limited, and he had no idea if this would actually work. The night air churned with heat, turning the lightly falling rain to steam long before it hit the ground. The smell of pine was growing stronger, as if the tree behind her were beginning to burn. If she didn't get the power under control soon, everything around them would ignite.
After a moment, she nodded minutely.
"Draw the rope back into your body. Let the water cool the fire as you draw it in."
He waited. After several long minutes, the heat began to abate. She took a deep breath, then opened her eyes and stared at him.
"It worked," she said softly. "I controlled it."
He forced a smile. "So you did."
This time.She desperately needed help, though, and more importantly, training. He didn't have the knowledge or time to do either.
"I thought—" She shuddered and looked down at her hands. "I thought I'd kill everyone."
"How long has it been like this?" He reached out and touched her hand. When she didn't pull away, he gently caressed her fingers. Her skin still burned with heat. The fire may have abated, but it was still close enough to spark to life if she wasn't careful—if he wasn't careful.
"Forever," she whispered. She shivered slightly and rubbed her arm with her free hand.
He took off his sweater and slipped it around her shoulders. Her shirt was torn near the top of her shoulder blade, the edges smeared dark with blood.
"What the hell happened?" he said abruptly.
She flinched and wouldn't meet his eyes. "Nothing."
Her tone told him she was suddenly afraid. Or was it once again fear of his reaction? He frowned slightly. Her spirit might be fire, but someone had given her self-confidence a hell of a battering. Anger ran through him, and he clamped down on it, hard. His anger wouldn't help her, and right now, she was all that mattered.