Hellbound Hearts

21. Tears of Joy

Upon returning, Balthazar's words kept echoing in my mind. The part about my gift seemed important, yet it was completely overshadowed by what I heard about Cody. I couldn't stop wondering and creating theories, but nothing could explain his miraculous return. He had somehow broken the whole damn system.

Despite my curiosity, I kept this news to myself. By Monday morning, my thoughts had settled, and I focused on more mundane matters. Kaja and Eleonora had asked for a half-day off, and Arthur was training, so on this peaceful morning, it's just Cody and me in the bookstore.

Since his summer vacation began, he'd voluntarily dedicated all his time to working here, lightening our load tremendously. During a spare moment, I taught him how to make coffee. Despite claiming he'd never touched a coffee machine, he instantly mastered the art.

"You're scaring me," I marvel. "How can you do everything so well?"

Cody raises an eyebrow and snorts quietly. "Not everything. Just the easy stuff."

"I sense some bullying," I smirk. "My first cup was terrible."

"Pretty pathetic, considering your real job is much more complicated. I didn't expect you to be such a loser," Cody replies with a sly smile.

I grab a towel from the counter and toss it at him. He didn't see it coming, so it gently hits his apron and falls to the floor. Cody glares at me, his expression unchanging. I can't help but laugh.

"That was incredibly childish," he sighs, picking up the towel.

"Sorry," I chuckle. "Just trying to keep you from getting too cocky."

"Very funny," he sighs again.

He turns around and shakes the coffee grounds into the trash. I watch him for a moment, thinking how hard it would be to imagine him not being here. This strange change still baffles me, but I realize that Cody, in my eyes, is now as much a full-fledged member of this home as anyone else.

Deep down, I know I had unwillingly and unknowingly added another name to my protect-or-die list. My prolonged staring is interrupted by the ringing of the bell. Kaja and Eleonora enter the bookstore, grinning suspiciously, holding several shopping bags. I raise an eyebrow.

"So, the 'urgent matters' were shopping? And I couldn't even get a proper sleep," I sigh.

"Stop whining. Girls have needs," Kaja sneers, twirling around. "It was worth it."

I can't help but smile. An extra hour of sleep couldn't match the glow in their eyes, so my complaints mean nothing. I'm just glad they got a quiet moment for themselves.

"Indeed, you look great," I say with a thumbs-up as I untie my apron. "But now it's time for my needs."

"Go, before I change my mind," Elle teases playfully, turning to Cody. "Go rest too, we can handle it."

Cody nods, neatly folds his apron, and sits across from the bar.

"I'll keep you company," he says with a genuine smile, glancing at me. "What are you waiting for? You wanted to go."

Girls exchange glances and burst into laughter. I feel a twinge of irritation—not because of their reaction, but because I was so easily excluded from their little gathering.

"Already leaving," I mutter, waving as I head toward the basement.

Even if I wanted to stay, I don't have time to rest and chat. Besides training, I can't think of any other approach to my gift. Meditation or a personality test wouldn't do much, so I return to my usual methods.

After a quick warm-up, I scan the surroundings. I know every corner of this basement; here I'd spent countless hours learning everything I now knew. I close my eyes, taking slow, deep breaths for a few minutes.

Get a grip. Feel. Release. Mentally repeating my mantra, I stretch out my hand. My palm heats up, and my fingertips begin to tingle. I stay focused, slowly opening my eyes.

The flame, gracefully dancing in place, ignores me entirely. It doesn't follow my movements and soon shrinks, leaving only a faint blue light before disappearing.

Get a grip. Feel. Release. I try several times, but the result's always the same. The fire refuses to yield.

Get a grip... My last attempt fails without even starting.

Frustration takes over, and I impulsively kick the cabinet—harder than I intended. A frame slides off its top and shatters on the floor. I silently curse and squat down to pick up the fallen photo. 

It was a picture of our small group, taken about a year ago when Kaja first joined us. It was a small gesture to commemorate her becoming part of the family. 

I gaze at the photograph, seeing a slightly younger and foolishly grinning version of myself. After a while, I set the photo aside and clean up the mess.

I move aggressively, my body tense. It isn't until I pick up the larger shards that I notice one has cut my finger. Crimson blood pools at the wound, and eventually, a thick drop splatters onto the floor.

Then something strange happens. I squint, unable to believe my eyes. The blood on the floor is smoldering. I lean closer. The red drop is encircled by a faint, but visible blue flame.

I squeeze my injured finger, and another drop trickles down. As soon as it hits the ground, it seems to ignite. The two nearby flames battle briefly, eventually merging into one.

I stand up, raising my palm. The flame flickers and expands. I move my hand from side to side, and it follows me. The fire obeys me.

A strange thought crosses my mind. I grab a larger shard and cut my palm deeply enough. I feel the throbbing warmth, but the warmth isn't just from the blood. I clench my injured hand, hold it for a moment, and open it again.

My heart nearly stops when a bright fireball bursts out of my palm. Electricity runs through my body as tears of joy fill my eyes. Crouching down, I play with the blue tongues of fire rising from the floor. They gently embrace my hand but don't harm it.

With a strong gesture, I push the flame forward. It snakes gracefully along the ground, and upon hitting the wall, it explodes and disappears, leaving only crumbling plaster dust behind. I stroke the cut on my palm, trying to comprehend what this could mean. Balthazar's words echo in my head again.

If I'm indeed blocking this gift myself, why?

Am I afraid of it?

Afraid that I won't be able to handle it?

Does the blood prove that I can do anything?

As I ponder these questions, my body grows incredibly heavy, and my consciousness clouds. I lean forward, my fading vision catching a glimpse of a pair of shoes running toward me, but my head hits the floor before the guest reaches me.