Crossfire - a sizzling slow burn with supernatural powers

Sleep little vixen

I focused on the little old woman sitting in front of me. She heaved and blew a brown, almost wet smoke in my face. It smelled earthy and slightly sweet, and didn't burn my eyes or throat.

Galvan stepped forward and respectfully kissed Abuela Angela's wrinkled hand.

"Thank you, Abuela. Perez will help you go back to the house."

Perez assisted Abuela to stand and gently held her arm as she left the room, scuffing her shoes against the floor. She seemed even weaker than before.

The doorway tilted and I felt gravity pull at me, but I didn't know which way to go.

The creep rushed over and caught me before I hit the floor and settled me back in the chair. My body wasn't convinced I was right side up.

"Thank you," I said, not thinking. You can be polite even if you're tied up. The creep chuckled and stayed behind me.

"I think Abuela's magic has taken effect." The creep said, his hands lingering too long on my arms. I shivered. He stepped back behind me.

Galvan sat down in his chair again. I wondered what he looked like when he was a little child with apple cheeks and dimples. Perhaps people like him and Neil Duncan weren't ever children. They were never truly innocent nor experienced the happiness of childhood.

Galvan snapped his fingers right in first of my face.

"You were going to tell me about the smoker, Harper." Galvan prodded me on.

I took a deep breath. I wasn't scared anymore. I could tell him.

"Curtis was there and he was sending smoke on the dance floor. Not the strawberry kind. Bad smoke. Coughing smoke. He was showing Juanito. Poor Juanito. He lost his brother. Curtis died. One moment he was there and then he was smoke on the wind."

There was a song about smoke on the wind. I tried humming, but I couldn't remember the melody. It was "smoke on the wi-ind". There was a color there too. The smoke was purple.

"Curtis' smoke didn't have a color," I sighed.

"There was another smoker. Tell me about that smoker." I couldn't concentrate on Galvan's face. He was too far away and I was seeing him through water, all blurry. I rocked side to side with the water. Hands kept me on my seat.

"Juanito was so young. I fought him. I didn't want to hurt him. He hit me." I felt the echo of the blow to my cheek. "I hit him back."

"Tell me about the smoke." The blurry face said. The words sounded like a nighttime story. The smoke.

"Juanito's smoke was almost yellow. Not purple." You could have a whole rainbow of smoke. But it wouldn't last. I hummed again, but the melody eluded me. I tried singing the words, but I still couldn't quite remember. The blurry man moved closer, but he was still blurry.

"What color is your smoke?" That was an easy question. I could answer it.

"I don't have smoke." I tried to hum again, but the song was farther away. I couldn't remember the words anymore.

"Either she doesn't know herself, or she really doesn't blow smoke." The blurry man said and got up, his figure swimming in front of me.

"We won't get more out of her now." The voice behind me said. There was a snap and my hands were free. But they were so heavy.

"Heavy," my word was slurred and the thoughts didn't connect in my mind. My head was heavy, my eyes lids weighed a ton. I closed them. Too much time in the pool. And then I was floating. Drip, drip, drip, or maybe footsteps. I didn't really care. There was gravity in my head and it felt good to lean into it.

"Sleep little vixen." Okay.

I had never been drunk, but I felt hungover. There was a deep fog in my head that I needed to claw myself out of. I hadn't opened my eyes yet and I could already tell that it was too bright. My body was heavy and my wrists hurt. Of course they did, they had been zip tied.

I erupted out of my sleep and sat up in the hard bunk, I was laying in. My wrists were scratched, red, and sore. The light felt like an ice pick in my head, making me wince aloud.

The door to the little room I was in opened and a young woman with long, black hair entered. She was about my age.

"Hi, I brought you some orange juice and ibuprofen," she said and lifted her hands in turn to show the tall glass of orange juice and the pills.

"I thought you might need it." She handed me the pill and the glass. I should be suspicious, but my head hurt so much, that ibuprofen and orange juice sounded like heaven.

"Thanks," I muttered and placed the pills on my tongue and swallowed them with the juice.

"Does this by any chance mean that I am free to leave?" I could be lucky.

"That's not my call to make," she said. I wasn't that lucky. The interrogation disappeared in a blur. I could not quite remember the questions or what I answered, but I felt sure that I had answered all Galvan's questions. What more could he need?

"You're welcome to come out to the common room," she said cheerily. I guess a common room was better than the small bunk room I was in. I got out of the bed and followed the woman.

"I'm Maria, by the way," she said with the enthusiasm of someone making a new friend. I stated my name as we walked down a hall of bunk rooms on either side to the common room. It was a large open space with comfortable couches, TV, and a long dining table that seated fourteen people. There were a handful of people present, they looked up momentarily when we entered, but then continued what they were doing.

Maria began chatting about how she was pleased to meet me, because there weren't many girls around her age here. She walked over to a kitchen area and began to make a couple of sandwiches. I trotted along while looking around. An elderly woman rock with a creak in a rocking chair by the window, knitting. Through the window, I could see a path and trees that gave patches of shade.

"What kind of music do you like?" Maria asked, as she sliced a tomato for the sandwiches.

"I'm not really that into music. What about you?" My question kept Maria chatting as she finished making the sandwiches.

Two men and a woman were playing cards around a coffee table. They had a bet going and laughed from time to time, teasing each other. The last guy was looking at his phone, seated at one end of the dining table.

Maria and I sat down at the opposite end of the table with the sandwiches. Just as we were about to bite into them, Perez came into the common ground. My breath hitched in my throat.

"Now?" Maria said, annoyance in a her voice. "At least let Harper eat her sandwich."

Perez acquiesced and Maria turned back to me. We ate without speaking. It was probably a great sandwich, but I couldn't taste anything. I kept looking at Perez, but he seemed calm and otherwise unreadable. The sandwich disappeared and the moment I was finished, Perez said,

"Let's go."