She suddenly stops and focuses on my hand. Her look of horror morphs into one of fear, and it’s directed straight at me. She turns and heads for the woods, a ghost of a shadow in the fading light.
“Kera,” I yell, but she doesn’t stop. “Damn it, Kera! Stop!”
What the hell is wrong with her? She just said she got what she’s always wanted. Why is she acting like it’s the worst thing ever? No, like I’m the worst thing ever.
The screen door slams again and Grandpa stops next to me. His hand falls on my shoulder. “What’s all the yelling about?”
His hand feels heavy, restraining. Controlling. I’m not one of his war buddies he can boss around. I’ve got things under control. I shrug his hand off. “I don’t know, she just left.”
That she didn’t stop when I called irritates me far more than it should, but I can’t help it. She should listen to me. Bad stuff happens because she doesn’t listen. I take off after her amid Grandpa’s call to leave well enough alone. Anger bubbles up inside me, and I flip him off before I slam the back gate open and head for the woods.
I should’ve known using the bird was a bad idea. Grandpa’s not one to let an insult lie. Being a cop, and a kick-ass war veteran, he expects to be shown some respect. And he should. He’s earned it. But I’m not in the mood to humor anyone, and now I’m getting chased down by a guy who knows how to kill a man with his bare hands without the use of any magic. That scares even me.
There’s only one thing to do. I speed up. If a guy has powers, he should use them, and I race away from Grandpa, following the scent of summer with an underlying aroma of burned sugar, a sure sign of Kera’s sorrow and fear. That she might be afraid of me, of what I can do, doesn’t sit well. It doesn’t matter how fast I run, I can’t seem to catch her. I pause in a clearing and reach out with my senses. Her trail has suddenly gone cold. I call, yelling her name over and over. She doesn’t answer. It’s like Mom all over again. One minute you’re talking, the next she disappears without an explanation. Why am I always the one getting left behind?
The heat I felt on the swing swirls in my belly and crawls under my skin. My new power rockets through me so easily, driving up my frustration and anger. In no time, fire erupts, engulfing my whole body. I’m a walking torch. The ground beneath my feet sizzles and smokes. This isn’t good. I know it, but I can’t stop. This isn’t me.
This uncontrollable monster that I’ve become since finding out I’m a first isn’t me.
A sudden whack, and a burst of pain explodes in my head. I crumple to my knees before I pass out. When I claw my way back to consciousness, I’m bobbing upside down through the forest. The ugly work boots. The worn jeans. I know who’s carrying me. Grandpa has me slung over his shoulder. I struggle to be free, but he slams his meaty palm on my backside. “Settle down. You, son, are a problem no one around here can afford to ignore.”
I’m a problem? Great. I get how being dumped unexpectedly on their porch without them knowing I existed would test their hospitality. And when they found out I wasn’t even human, well…that would give anyone second thoughts. Deep down, I knew it was only a matter of time before the newness of having me around wore off and he’d want me gone, but honestly, I didn’t think it would happen this soon. Did Grandma feel the same?
“What do you mean?” I say, my throat raw, my voice thick.
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember.”
I don’t. The pain in my head is killing me. I gingerly touch the back of my head and the lump that’s there. “Did you hit me?”
“Damn straight, I did. You were mad as hell and burning a hole in the ground. I’m not overexaggerating when I say you could’ve burned down another stretch of forest with that trick. I’m putting the law down right here, right now. Fire is off-limits. Do you hear me?”
“What are you talking about?”
Grandpa stops and dumps me on my feet, steadying me so I won’t fall. I spy the house through the trees. The old man has nearly carried me all the way home. I’m impressed and a little surprised. I take a good look at him.
A deep scowl digs into his face. “Your imitation of the burning man…you don’t remember doing that?”
“No.”
“Kera running off. You following. Me following you because—”
“I flipped you the bird.” I’m an idiot. A flaming hotheaded idiot.
“So you remember now.”
“Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not like that. I never get mad.”
“Well, you do now, and I’m not too keen on the new you.”
“Trust me. Neither am I.” The woods are silent and I don’t like what that implies. “Did you see Kera?”
“Nope. We’ll see her when she wants to be seen.”
That kind of blind faith freaks me out. I’ve got to let go and believe he’s right.
Whatever Kera was trying to tell me, I think I understand a bit of it. “Ever since I went to Teag, things are different. Inside me. And now there’s this fire. It showed up out of the blue.”
Grandpa grabs my arm and pulls up my T-shirt sleeve to reveal the glowing silver brand. The death mark Sidon the Torturer gave me. Grandpa’s fingers brush it, and he pulls away. “Still hot. Whatever’s going on, it’s not natural. But that doesn’t mean you give in to your emotions like a spoiled brat.”
He’s right, but I don’t like hearing it. I push down my sleeve, disturbed to see it glowing. It’s never done that before. In fact, it’s glowing so brightly now, it singes the material of my sleeve. I pull the fabric back up.
Grandpa’s voice turns rough. “What’s going on with that?”
“I don’t know.” The whole thing is smoking. I rub it, and when I do, the ground beneath our feet rumbles, shaking pine needles from the nearby trees, then stops.
Grandpa assesses the nearby damage and looks back at me, at my hand hovering over the glowing mark. “Tell me you didn’t do that.”
“No.” At least I don’t think I did. I take a deep breath and let it slowly out. The glow of my silver brand is fading, and I feel calm now.
Suddenly my brand flares, and the previous rumble seems tame compared to the deep shakes that toss us off our feet. Grandpa finds his footing, grabs the back of my shirt and yanks me to my feet. “Move it!” he yells.
I barely get ten feet away when the ground opens up and a fleshy pink spike spins its way out of the ground. Covered in loose dirt and as long as a city bus, it slips its body forward. A flap near the base of the spike flips up to reveal a huge eye. Blue as the sky, the eye looks around until it falls on me. The spike cracks open and spits forth more than a dozen bloodred tongues. Grandpa lets go of me and we split apart, each diving out of the way as the tongues snap toward us.
The house is so close. If I could just make it there and get my sword, I could do some real damage to this thing. Even as I think it, I see Kera racing toward us, my sword in her hand and a look of panic on her face. Grandma, Leo, the only friend I have besides Kera, and Leo’s dad, Reggie, are right behind her.
The creature’s head turns my way, its tongues lashing the air and scouring deep grooves into the tree trunks as it does. Grandpa grabs a long, thin, pointed tree branch and chucks it Spartan-style at the creature’s eye. A glasslike film closes over the eye at the last second and the branch bounces away. I bend fully grown trees and slam them on its wriggling back, but a thick armor lies under the dirt clinging to its body.