“I can’t. It’s one of a kind.”
Unlike the other times, the light of the quartz is still blazing.
I feel a thrill go through me, and it must be linked to the scepter
because it sputters another burst of lightning. This time the ledge
where the satellites are hooked up catches fire, right where Gwen
sits.
“How do you turn this off?”
“You control it!” she yells, dusting herself off the ground.
Kurt is running around the roof looking for a source of water.
“Stop getting excited.”
“Yeah, I have that problem.” I give my scepter a shake, but it’s
not a remote control with nearly dead batteries. I close my eyes. The
crackle of flame whips in the wind. I breathe and imagine, like Arion
had me do when coasting into the cove. I can feel the current
retreating, containing itself.
Gwen shouts my name.
The flames are six feet tall and getting taller with every gust of
wind. Kurt is entranced by it. He crouches down, pressing his hands
against his temples.
“You okay, man?” But of course he’s not okay.
I set the scepter on the ground before I set anything else on fire
and run back inside the building where the fire extinguisher is. I
take my shirt off and wrap it around my knuckles to break the glass. I
run back upstairs to where the flames are twice as tall as Kurt.
“Stupid child lock!” I cut myself on the plastic but it doesn’t
matter. I’ve set my building on fire. I point the nozzle at the flames
and the cold pressure blows all over the place.
I kneel beside Kurt. “It’s okay. It’s out.”
Even Gwen rubs his back and shoulders.
“I hate fire.” He’s breathless and shook and rambling, so all I
can make out is: “My parents” and “dragons” and “fire.”
“Come, let’s go back inside,” I say once I make sure the fire is
completely out. “Even if no one’s called the fire department, I’m
pretty sure they called their satellite providers.”
***
First, Gwen and I take a shaking Kurt under our arms and leave him
on the couch.
He repeats the same words, “fire, mother, father, dragons,” like a
mantra.
Then we race back to the rooftop for the fire extinguisher. I set
it on the Command Central floor and my scepter on the table.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper to Gwen.
She stretches her arm around my back and rests her chin on my
shoulder. “He’s in shock. It’ll pass in a bit.”
“I know he said something about hating fire.” I run a hand through
my hair. “I had no idea it was like that .”
“Many of our warriors were like this. When they came home from
battle.” She presses her forehead against my cheek. Her breath is warm
on my neck. “Those who made it home.”
I stand, tugging gently away from her grip. “We call it PTSD.
Post-traumatic stress disorder. My friend Jerry, his brother’s a
Marine. It’s our version of warriors. When he made it home, he shut
down completely.”
“He wasn’t fighting dragons or fey, was he?” She asks so
innocently that I can’t laugh at her.
“No,” I say.
Gwen nods, studying the pins on the Command Central maps. “Seems
silly, doesn’t it?”
“What does?”
She traces the length of the map. North to south. West to east.
One big invisible cross. “We’re all fighting for a bit of home, and
even if we get it, we’re not satisfied because it isn’t really home,
is it? It’s still just an ocean. A bit of land.” She turns back to me,
and I can feel the shift in her body.
“Where is your home, Gwen?”
Startled by the question, she stutters, then laughs. “I suppose
court. With Elias gone, I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“I’ll always have a sleeping bag for you,” I say.
“I’m not certain if I should thank you or not.” She reaches out to
touch my face. But I go to the fridge and get cold water. Despite the
AC, I’m sweating.
“I’d better go,” she says.
“Where do you go off to?”
She takes my water and drinks from it. “I know things didn’t work
out with Sarabell, but perhaps I could learn a few things they’d never
say with you there.”
“You mean spy on then?” I take my water back. “You’d do that for
me?”
Sometimes I think Gwen’s eyes are going to burn a hole right
through me. It’s like staring into the stormiest sky and not knowing
if you want to run from the rain or stand there and let it fall all
over you.
“For you.” She presses her lips on my jaw, just under my mouth.
“And for the kingdom.”
One look at our freshly scrubbed guilty mugs, not to mention the
glaringly empty fire extinguisher on the kitchen floor, and Dad asks,
“What happened?”
Mom has a bag of ice cream in her hand. “We passed Gwenivere in
the lobby, and she smelled like smoke.”
Kurt joins us in Command Central. We exchange one look of
solidarity as he sits beside me. It’s not like we stole the car and
went for a joy ride, which, if this wasn’t all happening now, would be
pretty sweet to do in this weather.
So I give my parents the SparkNotes version of visiting Greg, the
papers, the landlocked on the boardwalk, and the fire. I leave out the
parts with Sarabell and the moment on the roof when I felt awesome
blowing stuff up. “I’ve seen CSI and my fingerprints are all over the
fire extinguisher.”
Dad cleans his square glasses on his untucked work shirt. “The
super is downstairs fighting off an angry mom because their cable
isn’t working.”
“Technically,” I point out, “I only burned down the satellites on
the roof. Including ours.”
“What were you thinking?” Mom yells. “There are cameras up there!”
“Actually, last year Janie said the landlord was too cheap to
install a real system,” I point out. “Only the elevator and lobby ones
work.”
“Janie? The super’s daughter?” Dad asks, trying to keep the grin
off his face in front of Mom.
“Dad-”
“What matters is that no one is hurt.” Dad points to me, giving
off the guilty smells of dirt and the excited burn of fireworks.
Underneath all of that is Mom’s melting strawberry ice cream. “Just,
no more fires in the house.”
I hold my hand up. “Merman’s honor.”
Dad rubs his hands together, like twiddling an invisible stick to
make invisible fire we’re not supposed to have in the house. “We’re
actually glad you’re here. We have something to tell you.”
“We do as well.” Kurt clears his throat, the familiar stoicism
returning to his posture. “We were waiting for Lady Maia.”
Mom brushes his hair back tenderly. “Kurt, please. I’m not a lady
of the court anymore.”
“You’ll always be a lady to me,” he says, softening under the
gesture. “My mother would’ve wanted me to address you as such.”
“I’ll just stick with ‘Mom.’ Hey, Mom. Greg says he was your
teacher how many years ago?”
She flushes like she’s going to whack me on the head with her
spoon. Dad throws his hands in the air and chooses the safer option of
the sofa instead. “You’re on your own, kid. I’m not going near that
one.”
“Come on, guys,” I say. “Just trying to lighten the mood. Greg
gave us all this riddle stuff and we need your help.”
Kurt spreads out Greg’s parchment papers.
“I can’t believe Greg is alive.” Mom wipes her hands on a towel.
“The old crab. I could’ve used his knowledge when I was pregnant with
you.”
“He wasn’t exactly happy to see us,” I say. “What with ol’ Grandpa