Crossfire - a sizzling slow burn with supernatural powers

Not goodbye

"Leave," Brandt said. I didn't know if the command was addressed at me, the smoker, or the occupants in the room in general. A few partygoers left. The smoker turned his attention to Brandt.

"Well, if it isn't boy wonder, Brandt Duncan. Now, what are you doing at a high school party in the suburbs?" The smoker looked at me and flashed a toothy smile, "Or who are you doing." Someone chuckled at the snide remark. The smoker wasn't here alone. The other smoker was younger than the first, younger than me.

Brandt and the smoker circled each other, standing on either side of the couch with the sleeping girl. She didn't stir.

"I'll give you the same offer again: leave," Brandt said. He clutched his hands into fists. I could feel his power in the room as static electricity. The younger smoker moved closer to me, but waited for the other smoker's say so.

"Where would the fun be in that? Juanito here needs to train."

The smoker nodded and Juanito let out a roar as he flung his fist into my shoulder.

I was turned around, but I could hear Brandt and the smoker fight behind me. Punches hit their targets. Electricity shone blue and smoke billowed.

At the same time, Juanito hit me again, connecting with my kidneys. I had to fight back. I punched him squarely in the jaw, which surprised him. He recovered and came for me again.

I registered that Brandt was airborne and shattered the window before he landed outside. The smoker jumped after him.

I pulled every technique of offense and defense, Dingo had taught me in the past months, in order to fight back against Juanito. Standing close to him, I sent blow after blow towards his torso, wishing that he would use his smoke, so I could use it to fight back. This was awful. Juanito pushed me away. I stumbled and landed on the floor. My eyes watered. I was battered, and somewhere along the line, I had bitten my tongue. Everything hurt, and I couldn't get to my feet quickly. He was either going to kick me or use smoke.

Juanito gazed at his palms as he willed his smoke to rise. He pointed his hands at me and a thick yellowish smoke billowed towards me. It wasn't solidified as I had feared, but heavy and sulphuric. I pulled it in and with all the focus I could muster, I sent it through my palm right at his torso. The surprise on Juanito's face was profound as he fell back on the floor, a hand held to his chest, where I had hit him. He scrambled to his feet and ran out the front door.

I rolled on the floor and spit saliva and blood on the living room floor of a suburban house. I needed to get up. Leaning against the armrest of the couch, where the girl was still sleeping, I got up and fought the dizziness. I had never been on the receiving end of a punch and never participated in a fight. This was definitely not the same as training fighting techniques. Fighting was brutal, and it hurt. I humped through the front door and froze.

The smoker had Brandt in a chokehold, heavy smoke billowing around them. Brandt looked in my direction and hit the smoker with his elbow and immediately pulled him over his shoulder with a hold around his head. The smoker landed on the ground. Brandt sent a strike of blue lightning into the smoker so powerful, that I thought I heard thunder. The smoker didn't even scream or call out, before he disappeared in a defeated and deflated mushroom of smoke.

Brandt took a lengthened step over the place where the smoker had gone up in smoke and came over to me.

"Hi," he said, letting me see the softer Brandt. With a finger under my chin, he surveyed the bruises on my face.

"Looks like you need an ice pack." His arm snaked around my waist. It felt good to have him this close.

"Ditto, hot shot," I said as Brandt's face was marked with bruises as well and his t-shirt was torn in a couple of places. Brandt shook his head with a smile,

"I'll drive you home."

Brandt picked up his jacket and slung it around my shoulders. His Mustang was parked down the street and our gait wasn't fast.

"The guy had a point: what are you doing at a high school party in suburbia?" Brandt kissed my hair as we reached the car, and opened the door.

"I saw a smoker enter and he is known for creating havoc by smoking houses, sometimes killing occupants. And there was a woman, I like there and I wanted to make sure she would be okay." Brandt shifted the car into drive and we left the high school party behind.

My mind was trying to process everything, the fight, the battered sensations in my body, the smoker purposefully filling houses with smoke, seeing Brandt, sitting here next to him, when I had longed to see him these past months, what he said. I was the woman he spoke of, right? A news headline I had seen in passing popped into my head. Something about a series of electrical issues causing smoke and people dead due to smoke inhalation in a couple of neighborhoods.

"The mysterious electrical issues in some neighborhoods?" I asked. I only recalled the news story, because Neil Duncan had made a statement, ensuring the public that the electricity from Duncan Energy Technologies was not subject to power surges. The distribution system held specific safeguards against power surges. I believe I sneered at the television screen at the time.

"Yeah, the smokers aim to destabilize the energy market through terror and fear, and then there is the whole smokers v. electrics." Brandt sighed. We were both quiet for the rest of the ride, until we pulled up the drive to my house.

"Thank you," I said as the mustang came to a halt in front of my house, my hand on the door handle.

"I'm not saying goodbye to you like this again. It almost killed me the first time. Let me park somewhere inconspicuous and I'll help you with an ice pack."

I can't describe the emotions that swelled in me at that moment. I am not even sure those emotions have names. Excitement. Need. Gratitude. Humility. Love. Fear. All jumbled into an emotional stew. I waited for Brandt to park and come back before we entered together.