Flashfire

Ch11

Caleb passed the service bar and through the double doors to the kitchen. Just as he had everything prepared for the summoning, he flicked his lighter, and...it was completely out of fluid.

"Goddamnit!" He threw the green, transparent BIC.

The lighter dinged off of a large steel pot that he used to make spaghetti when it was more economical to cook at home, and more recently, to boil rose hips in order to call in good spirits, namely, Liam.

At first, when he looked further into how to prepare them for a summon, the Internet provided him with multiple links to RoseHip Liqueur. In retrospect, it wasn't what he meant by spirits, but that is what happens when one has a niche hobby such as summoning the dead. He took a guess at it and boiled them in the large pot, not to much avail. It was hard to tell if they had made an impact, anyway.

He abandoned them until he read further into how to use herbs for magic. Unfortunately, the text wasn't very helpful in instruction on practical application. It was just a list of random things, like a dictionary unequipped with the words used in a sentence afterward. Caleb sighed, picking up the dead lighter and throwing it in the trash. It stared back at him sadly. The light from the kitchen that blinked in and out shone off of its silver top like a flashing eye.

He saw his life in that reflection. First, he fell in love with someone who could barely make ends meet, was incredibly socially awkward, and didn't have the best plan for the future. That was all okay, but then someone killed him and left Caleb alone. Caleb vowed to find the person who did it and rip them limb from limb, but Caleb and Liam made no progress in actually finding him and giving him the punishment that he deserved.

Then, just when it seemed that he was getting control of the spell, he ran out of lighter fluid to set fire to the remaining tea lights that they had, and did he even have enough of those to form a circle? What did Liam mean by no one that he knew saw him that day? Caleb forgot to ask him, and even if he did what good would it do? Unless that someone that he knew was the killer, it wouldn't make a difference to Caleb, uh, Liam.

His life was one full of dead ends.

Suddenly the bell above the entrance to their bar dinged.

Liam?

Caleb shook his head. No, that was ridiculous. He needed to get a grip. Caleb thought this as he opened the double doors from the kitchen and Paul walked toward the service bar from outside.

"Hey Paul, what can I get you?" Caleb asked, sounding a bit like Liam.

Paul Nugent was their regular patron and friend, and the owner's son of the pizzeria across from the bar. He and Caleb had become friends through Liam despite Paul being ten years younger than him.

"Hey Caleb, do you want to talk?"

Caleb's mouth corkscrewed. Of course, the answer was yes, even though he really didn't have time right now. He hadn't spoken to Paul in weeks, he realized, as he looked at the other man. Dark facial hair sprouted across his face and curved up slightly on his cheeks, making it seem as though he had a permanent smile even when he was not. Paul liked to grow it out every year around the end of summer, like clockwork, for whatever reason.

He wore a forest green plaid shirt and black jeans that made his eyes darken into aqua pools.

"Yeah," Caleb said finally, even though he was dreading this conversation with his friend. He knew before he had even opened his mouth what Paul had wanted to discuss.

Three two one...

"It's about Liam, Caleb...it's been three months."

"Are you going to sit down?" Caleb asked.

Paul shut his mouth for one graceful moment and took a seat at the corner edge of the bar.

"I know, look, okay? But I have to find out what happened to him. The investigation was closed too soon. They didn't even try," he grumbled the last part bitterly, pushing down his brows. Then he brightened all at once. "What do you think I should do? Come on, you have to know something that could help us, help me."

"That's actually what I came to talk to you about," Paul said.

Caleb widened his eyes hopefully.

"What?" he said loudly. He lowered his voice, trying not to let his desperation show through, though it oozed out of his every pore. Caleb was suddenly hyper aware of how he came across. "Sorry, what?"

Then he became disappointed when Paul gave him a sympathetic look, and he knew that all he had to share was some worthless platitude about moving on.

"Caleb, it's time for you to move on."

"Oh I knew it!" Caleb threw up his hands. "You don't care about Liam at all! No one cared about him but me, and I'm not about to give up on him just because everyone else did!"

Now Caleb was shouting and red in the face. He had never been this volatile in his entire life, but every time Liam was mentioned he became just that, like a volcano ready to erupt at any moment.

Paul's mouth hung open, stupidly.

"Caleb, I care-"

Panic rose in his chest, the pinpricks rising to the surface of his skin just like on that day.

No.

"Just get out! I can see right through you man. You are so transparent, just like Liam."

Caleb clamped a hand over his mouth. Had he just revealed his ability to see spirits? No, that's crazy, that thought wouldn't cross Paul's mind for a second. No one would believe him unless they saw for themselves...which was why Liam didn't want anyone to see him. Caleb ran his fingers up and down his face in a sort of awkward face palm. Of course, that was what Liam was talking about, he wanted to avoid anyone that he knew so that they wouldn't panic because they just saw a ghost.

Why wasn't Caleb bothered by it? Seeing spirits, summonings, spell books. It was all almost normal to him. It hadn't occurred to him that it was...it was...

Paul had gotten up, putting up his hands. He slunk toward the door.

"Okay, I'm going to come back later when you are ready to talk, but Caleb, you need to get help," he said, admittedly worried.

Caleb sighed.

"I'm sorry, Paul. I'll talk to you later."

It was all he could say, nothing he could do would bring his friend back from the door as it dinged and closed. Caleb stood in one place, frozen for a long time. It seemed like it would always be that way. Maybe he was a terrible person and he deserved to be alone. Maybe that's why he had only one friend left and a husband that he was obsessed with finding the killer of. Maybe that's why everyone around him thought that he was going crazy.

Liam was the only one who accepted him...

Unless Liam was only a figment of his imagination, and Caleb had actually lost his mind.

Caleb doubled over the service bar, the thought slamming into him like a wrecking ball to his chest, cold and hard and pulling him down to the floor.

He heaved, sick all at once but attempting to reassure himself, to stop the blow of that thought from leaving his chest concave, his soul hollowed out, and his mind unraveled.

No, that couldn't be possible! Bringing Liam back had meant something! Finding his killer meant that what they had gone through would be resolved, and this nightmare would finally be over. Caleb had actually felt the warmth of his hands on his face. Everything that Liam had said and done was so Liam that it had to be him and not a delusion. The blood that ran from his nose was bright red and wet down his face, so vivid...but was it real?

He crumpled into a ball and clutched his head as if he were being beaten up.

Caleb screamed in uncontrollable terror.