Chapter 1 The time and the circumstances again called her forth. At first, she was nothing but a tiny glimmer, a bit of a spark fed by the caressing air of the mountain and the magick of ritual. The portal had been opened. She stepped through with confidence. It was, after all, her destiny. How many years had it been? Thirty-eight? Thirty-nine? More? Too many to care. She was not governed by time beyond the veil. But here .
here her very existence depended upon the irritating measurement. She spun lazily, seeking any home among the flames of the humans. She would hide there, among the comforting fires they made for themselves. Waiting until duty called. From any place of flame or magick, she could rise. Tanner Thorn clutched the sobbing child in his arms and faced the inferno, only to fall to a defensive posture as a steaming black monster hurled itself in his path. Tanner pulled back, twisted. What the hell was that? The monster screamed, reaching out with deadly force, striking Tanner in the shoulder.
The child wailed, then buried his head in Tanner''s chest as he lost his balance, fell to his knees, and rolled, hanging on to the kid with an iron grip. Broken, bruised? Tanner''s mind thought only of the entrance of the barn and how he was going to reach it. The monster danced, pounding its feet inches from his head. Tanner writhed, cocooning the boy with his body. "Nightmare," sobbed the child. "No kidding," mumbled Tanner, dragging both of them behind a hay bale that promptly burst into flames. The child screamed, slapping at the flames with his bare hands. Tanner wretched him away.
"Didn''t we send a fireman into your school?" growled Tanner. "You never try to put out a fire with your hands!" "I''m only five years old," mumbled the child. "I don''t go to school." Tanner rolled his eyes, grabbed the child by the collar and wretched him away from the heavy, pounding feet of the monster. No monster. Horse. A big, black mother of a horse, snorting, eyes rolling and wild, blocking their only clear way out of here. Timbers cracked, broke, plunging farm equipment and heavy chains to the smoking floor.
The child coughed. "Who are you?" "I''m the fire chief, kid." "No way, fire chiefs don''t have long hair. They have black coats with yellow stripes and big helmets. You don''t got any of those things." "Yeah, well, I was off duty. Get over here. Don''t go scampering away from me.
" The child coughed again. "I''m not supposed to talk to strangers." Adrenaline pumped through his veins and his hands throbbed with power. Tanner knew what that meant, but hadn''t felt the sensation in a long, long time. He tried to ignore it. "This fire is the stranger, boy. Not me." "I always wondered what a real fire looked like," said the child, who seemed to have recovered from his hysterical sobbing of a few moments ago when Tanner had found him, small back pressed to a stall, and now looked around with eyes filled with wonder.
Tongues of flame rippled down the walls, snapping in bursts across the floor. Now he gazed about him, the flames reflected in his wide eyes. "You call this a fire?" sneered Tanner. "This is just a theme park for guys like me." "Mommy says that parks can be dangerous. The line on the wall says I can''t get on the big rides yet. I want to go on the big rides. I want to go on the Comet.
" "Then we''d better figure out a way out of here, sport. That horse would be great as a goalie. Keep down!" he yanked the kid closer. "I know a way," said the child in a throaty little voice, and pointed to the far wall-that sagged, groaned, and collapsed inward. Tanner shook his head and coughed. He''d been driving on Ridge Road when he saw the flames, floored it into the Fergueson driveway, radioed in to the station, rolled out of the truck, and flew past the old woman as she screamed about this young one being in the barn . and now they faced Godzilla the horse or a flaming wall. Some choice.
The child crawled closer to him. "Look at that!" he coughed, and pointed behind the wheeling horse. Tanner saw nothing but sparks, black undulating smoke, and screaming fire. "I-don''t see-anything." "There!" squealed the child. "Behind our horse! Can''t you see the fire lady?" Tanner saw nothing but flames and smoke, and realized he''d gotten himself into a hell of a fix. The noise of the fire, the screaming of the horse, the coughing of the child . he''d known better than to rush in here without equipment, but the kid .
had stopped coughing. Tanner looked down at the still form beside him. Shit. The horse reared, spun, and disappeared into the smoke, leaving Tanner alone with the unconscious boy. Tanner skinnied out of his shirt and tied it around his face in a make-shift mask. "Should have done this before, moron," he muttered. He picked up the boy. Run.
Which way? Nothing. He could see nothing now. The heat seared his flesh. Run. Where? He closed his eyes, squeezing out the water and smoke. And thought of Nana Loretta. "Help me, please," he whispered. The words came to him slowly, out of the smoke, out of the flames, was he out of his mind? He didn''t care.
He rose, clutching the child to his chest with his left arm, throwing out his right hand in a commanding gesture. "Welcome, thou fiery fiend!" he shouted, his voice cracking, guttering. "Do not extend further than thou already hast!" He stepped forward, stumbling, almost losing his grip on the boy. The flames roared. Something crashed to his right. He flinched and sidestepped. "This I count thee as a repentant act!" The fire leapt and the smoke rolled. He had to do this.
Had to. He took another step forward, willing himself to choose the right direction. The opening to freedom. "In the name of the Maiden, Mother, and Crone, I command unto thee, O Fire! By the power of the Lady, who careth and worketh everything!" His voice faded. The smoke churned in his mouth like a hive of swarming bees. Stinging. Buzzing. Choking.
He gagged, and he knew better than to open his damned mouth. All his training, all those hours, the years of experience, all diminished into nothing but a lousy bunch of words given to him by an old lady. "Use them," she''d said, "when the time is right." He''d laughed at her then. He wasn''t amused now. "Thou must cease, and not extend, this I count as your repentant act!" He dragged himself forward, the boy nothing but a limp form in his arms. Dead? Could the child be dead? His arms shook with fear and tension. "I command thee to abate, great flame, and cease thy wrath!" he croaked.
"This I count thee as a repentant act!" He surged forward. The flame rose above him like the flick of a southern belle''s skirt, forming an umbrella above his head. It was as if he''d become the dreaded mouse under that fair lady''s petticoat and she danced about him, eager to pirouette her wicked feet away. He burst through the barn door into the hazy air of the summer night. And the skirt of flame crashed down, spewing Tanner and the child into the dusty barnyard. Nana Loretta''s grandson dragged deeply on a cigarette, ignoring her presence. The fiery tip of the cigarette reminded her of a pulsing, dying sun. A flicker, then gone.
She pulled her sweater closer. A bit of a chill in this crisp October night. She must have been crazy to tramp around up here in the dark with only a rusty old lantern for light, but she had to find him. Now, here she stood, freezing her blessed you-know-what off at the top of Witches'' Bluff. She set the lantern down. The glare hurt her old eyes. Her grandson teetered precariously at the edge of the bluff, whistling an old tune she''d taught him years ago, stopping every so often to pull on the cigarette. "Dem bones gonna rise again," he whispered into the night.
So much time had passed. So much pain tumbling down, down into the valley below. The ebony wind responded to his call, circling around them, touching her temples with a breezy caress. Welcome home, my ancestors, she mouthed, but did not utter the words aloud. "The boy''s gonna make it," she said. "He''s at Holy Spirit Hospital. No burns. Just the smoke inhalation.
He''ll be out in a few days. The Fergueson''s are mighty beholden to ya. They want the mayor to give you a medal." Tanner snorted and dragged on the cigarette. "Barn''s gone, but your early call saved the house and the outbuildings. Even the horse got out okay." "That Thoroughbred nearly killed us both," muttered Tanner. "Good thing he got out, though," replied Nana.
"They were boarding him for Penn National Race Track. He''s worth a pretty penny. Name''s Nightmare." Tanner spit on the ground. "Damned animal''s true to its name." Nana shrugged. First part of what she had to tell him was over. The good part.
Now, on to the not-so-good. "Siren McKay''s on her way back, now that the trial''s over," was all she said, and waited for his reaction. She knew it would be a negative one. Tanner Thorn, her beloved grandson, turned his back on her. His silver eyes fixed on the breathtaking view beneath them. Nana Loretta didn''t think he noticed the panorama below. "How do you know she''s coming here?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper on the chillingly erotic tendrils of air that danced around his head, lifting the shining strands of his long hair. She smiled to herself, plucking absently at the buttons on her sweater.
"I have my ways. She''ll arrive the end of the week. Of course, she has no idea what we''ve done for her." "I didn''t count on her coming back here." He turned abruptly, his hawk.