Smith and The Bone Reaver ⏐Book 1

Chapter Three: Fire and Flames

The treacherous camera lens shone evilly at the top of the stairs, the proof of what shouldn't be seen. Leaving Evan where he sat, his consciousness suppressed, for now at least, Smith walked to the bottom of the stairwell, while the girl at the top drew back, further into the gloom.

"You shouldn't be here", called out Smith, steadily climbing up the stairs one step at a time, trying not to move too quickly in case the stranger fled, "and you shouldn't have seen that."

"Maybe, maybe not," called back the girl in the same cold tone, "then again, you shouldn't be using your abilities on normies."

"Abilities?" repeated Smith cautiously, "you want to be clearer on that?"

"You know exactly what I mean. You can do stuff like...this, for example."

Frowning, Smith tried to ask what she meant but was distracted as something flickered at the corner of his vision. It was only for a moment, but with a deafening crack, something detonated right by his right forearm, knocking Smith sideward and slamming him against the wall. The pain didn't come instantly, but when it did, it was as a raw torrent. Screeching in pain and unable to keep his balance, Smith tumbled backwards down the stairs, landing heavily on the last few steps. "Huh, can't believe that worked," said the girl from somewhere far above, totally unconcerned with Smith's suffering, "I was expecting more from a warlock. And they said not to sneak off alone. Ha!"

Smith had felt pain before, Granny Crypttooth was fond of corporal punishment, so he could bite through the feeling of his skin being scorched. It was probably more the surprise that had taken him off guard. Wiping his watering eyes, Smith painfully checked his arm. The clothing along the far side had been entirely burned away, searing the skin to a waxy white that blistered rapidly.

"...that...what just..." gasped Smith as he glared at the girl, the camera still pointing resolutely at Smith.

"You know exactly what, human," replied the girl, a haughty tone leaking into her voice, "that was magic. My magic."

"...magic?" Giving a heavy sigh, followed by a grunt in pain, Smith clambered back to his feet.

"No, hopes and dreams," replied the girl sarcastically, "What? Did those hags not even tell you the basics?"

"...err...I don't want to answer that..."

"Oh for...fine, what do you know then?"

"Yer, again, I don't want to answer that. I mean, you're a total stranger who...hey, were you the one back at school? The one who wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes...well, no, not me. Someone else, but I was with them. We were meant to get ice cream afterwards, but then you ran and, oh no, now we can't go anymore. You went and made it personal." It was largely due to the burning pain in Smith's arm, but what was just said didn't register straight away. When it did, Smith could only blankly reply

"What?"

"I was going to get mint, or maybe mint chocolate. I promised I'd be good for a whole week, hell, I even got accepted into The Spires, but you went and ruined it."

"...you...came here...because of ice cream?"

"Well, there's also what you guys are doing to the homeless."

"No, forget that for a second," said Smith, unsteadily using the wall for support as he glared at the girl, "you came here, into my home, threatened and burned me...because of ice cream!?" If he hadn't been angry before. Smith certainly was now.

"When you put it like that, anyone would sound like an idiot."

"Yes. Yes, you do. Besides, I don't even understand what the problem is. They're being cured. What's wrong with that?" After a brief pause, the girl shifted her position. It was still too dark to see her face, but now she was half a step closer, he could as least make out an athletic build and short rather punkish hair. The cold tone had dropped a degree to include an air of interest.