Consuming Fire

Chapter 87

Hunter couldn't take it anymore. Too many people were dying horrible deaths around her. She started sobbing uncontrollably, the way a mother sobs when her baby dies in her arms or a child cries when they lose their parent in a crowd. The pain she had felt for so many months took control of her happiness. And the fire, the consuming fire that was always there, did not burn anymore.

Mikayla turned to her. With the telekinesis power she must have stolen from Jet, she lifted Hunter off the ground once more. Only this time, Hunter didn't fight her. She didn't feel the burn of her throat closing as Mikayla took away her air supply. She didn't care anymore.

"What's the matter?" Mikayla called. "Too tired? Too weak? Not gonna pretend to be a hero anymore?"

"No," Hunter whispered through her clenched throat. "I'm not a hero. I never was and I never will be."

"You're right. Because you're about to die."

There was silence around her. Maybe it was just in Hunter's head. Maybe the thought of dying brought peace to her mind. This was too hard. She'd had powers for only a year. Before that, there was no responsibility on her shoulders. No one to save, no lives to protect, no person to be but her own arrogant, teenage self.

She looked away from Mikayla's demonic face to the front lawn of the White House where bodies were strewn across the chaotic grounds. Beyond the turmoil, there was a crowd. Policemen with their guns raised behind their cars and flashing lights. Paramedics waiting to run in and collect the injured when it was safe. Crowds of pedestrians and onlookers who could be family members of those brave men who were dead on the lawn or could just be itching to get a glimpse of the heroes they saw on the television. Heroes they may even idolize.

All those people had courage just standing there. Either that, or they stood by waiting to see courage in action. Her courage.

Can I do this?

Mikayla's telekinetic grip tightened on her throat as the world started to fade. It would be so easy to meet a peaceful death. Her soul was tired and weary, starved of hope and drowned in grief. The feat seemed unimaginably hard.

But what about Joshua? What about Will? What about my friends who may need me at the army base? What about the SSS who inspire us, who support us, who believe in us? What about the President, the nation, the world?

What about those who fell before me so that I could reach this moment? Mom. Sammy. Dr. Rosenthal. Benji. Mosi. Fearne. Jack. Would I be honoring them in giving up?

Inside her soul, the fire started to flicker to life. It wasn't because it ever left. It would never leave. Neither would that still, small voice in her mind that came from not her mother as she'd always imagined, no. The voice was always the fires. Her soul. Her own.

You're not alone.

Somewhere in her heart, a new kind of courage bloomed. And it was not anger, or evil, or a need for revenge. It was a consuming fire, built from a powerful feeling of love for those she still had and would always be there for.

The grip on her throat loosened. In Mikayla's eyes she saw the reflection of something bright, a light coming from her own eyes. But she couldn't feel it, because all she knew was that the fire was awake again.

Then something even greater happened. The sound of cheers started to rise from the crowd. Hunter felt the fire grow, bloom, blaze, spark and ignite until suddenly, Mikayla staggered back and Hunter dropped to the ground. But she was not tired anymore. She stood steadily on her feet. She stared at Mikayla, the cries of courage coming from those standing bravely nearby.

"It's over, Mikayla," she growled. "Back down."

"Never," she said. And with that, Mikayla raised her hands and fire burst from them.

Hunter realized then that somehow, Mikayla had figured out how to mimic her powers. When Hunter visited her in the containment room, that feeling as she grabbed her ankle was the girl taking her fire. She did the same with Jet, Marcus and Zac in order to escape the SSS. All this power was making her weak. The burst of fire she threw hit Hunter with nothing but a small pinch, weak and messy. She didn't know how to control it, and the anger of Ravenadium had already taken over her. 

But Hunter knew she was stronger.

"Mikayla, you've take on too much power. You're going to kill yourself."

Mikayla screamed and threw another ball, but all it did was allow her to draw more fire in. It felt different and foreign coming from someone so filled with hatred.

The crowd was chanting something now. Mikayla's eyes kept darting to them. She was panicking. Using her telekinesis, she knocked Hunter sideways and she crashed into a slanted piece of sandstone. Mikayla stood over her, grinning.

"I have all the power now," she snarled, sparks coming from her fingers as though the fire and electricity were going hand in hand. "And nothing-"

At that point, something inside Mikayla's body began to change. She twitched. Her hands went to her head. She was looking down at Hunter in confusion.

"What's happening?"

Hunter didn't know.

Mikayla started screaming. "Get it out! Get it out of my HEAD!"

"Get what out?"

She didn't stop screaming. Her skin started shivering as though she were shape-shifting. All around Hunter, bursts of static were popping and walls were crumbling. Mikayla's veins glowed orange, then blue, then orange again.

Hunter understood. The power was becoming too much. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed Mikayla's wrist, feeling the pulse of her skin thump faster than the sound of running feet. She wanted to help, but there was no stopping it.

Mikayla's body seized and then, in one mighty scream that burst Hunter's eardrums, Mikayla exploded. The force sent Hunter flying back ten feet. When she turned around, she saw the most horrible sight. In a combination of all her stolen powers, her body started to melt, contract and shatter all at once. Fire, force and blood blasted her. There was a horrible splat and all that remained of her body was a pile of slimy skin, red goo and smoke.

Hunter was so shocked that she remained still, staring at the pile. Her body ached – the adrenaline of the epiphany moment fading – and when she eventually did get up, she felt like someone had run over her with a train.

But she'd done it. She'd won the battle and saved hundreds of lives, even at the cost of a close friend. She paused for a moment, if not to catch her breath and slow her racing heart, then at least to give herself a small pat on the back for not giving up. For fighting with every last ounce of energy she had.

Mom and Dad would be proud, said the fire. Joshua would be proud too.

But now, someone else needed her. She stumbled across the wreckage and bloodied bodies to Eli. As she fell to her knees beside him, she was struck with a memory. Room 23. She couldn't stop thinking about the night of prom, the night he died, the night he lost his memory, the night her world fell apart.

"Please d-don't be dead." She pressed two fingers under his throat and waited.

A pulse.