Bring Forth a Fire (Book 1)

One - The Enemy is Everywhere

New York, February 1883

"Pretty big commitment for what you're askin' sir." The grizzled cart man looked even scarier in the lamplight, crossing his arms and glaring at my father. Yet he still managed to look imposing.

"I've already paid you," my father said. "It's not much to ask. I just want you to get me to the docks so we can get on the ship at eight tomorrow."

"Not after what you told me jus' now." The man wasn't about to move. I had asked my father earlier if he thought the man was a con, and he had said he definitely was. But it had been the best he could get for such short notice.

"You want some extra money so you won't go blabbing it about?" My father sounded angry, his fist clenching and sparks shooting from his fingertips – something that happened when his emotions were edging towards uncontrollable.

The cart man set his mouth in a tight line, but his hand twitched. "All right, Limey. Fine. Just get in and shut up. I don't wanna be caught."

My father took me under my arms and lifted me into the bed of the cart. "Ready, Ems?"

I grinned. "Always ready, Daddy."

"That's my girl." He smiled and kissed my forehead gently, like he always did. At that age I didn't notice the strain in his eyes, or the tiredness that hung on him like a weight. "Now stay there while I load our bags."

I sat and watched. I hadn't asked him about what was happening when he'd woken me about two hours ago and said we had to leave. No explanation, and I had gone along with it. Such is the nature of twelve-year-olds. I bumped my feet against the fender of the cart, happy at least for the adventure.

When the bags were all loaded, my father climbed in next to me, flicking his wrist as he did so. A small orange flame leaped up in his palm, hovering just above it.

"How's that not burning you, Daddy?" I asked him, like I had many times before. It was fire, it should have been.

"I've mastered that skill," he said, mysteriously as always. "You'll understand when you're older, Ems."

I watched him roll it from palm to palm and then stretch it out into a burning line of flame. My eyes widened, in wonder and at the terrifying beauty of it.

"Daddy, what are you doing?"

"Practising," he said.

And that was the only answer he would ever — and always — give me.

||

Daddy and I spent the night in the cart until the cart man kicked us out early the next morning.

"Gotta go," he said, jerking his head. "Previous commitment."

"What is that, a robbery?" Daddy grumbled as he unloaded the bags himself, the cart rattling off immediately after that.

Again, Daddy sat me on the pier while he checked to make sure everything was in order. Then he bundled me in his coat and disappeared, to the ticket booth, he told me. Some dirty old men leered at me while I sat, and I knew better than to engage them. Sometimes I thought Daddy read those stories to me in the paper just to scare me. I wished I could make a little flame like he could, because despite his warm coat I was quite chilly.

He was back soon, and there we were, stuck on the dock until eight. He kept me warm by just igniting his hands and rubbing me up and down vigorously.

"Daddy, why can't I do that?"

"You can, Ems. You're a Fire-Elemental, like me. And like many other members of my family."

"I'm a what, Daddy?" I lowered my chin, looking up at him.