Spelled

15: A Case of Heartburn

"Power is a worm that crawls into your heart and eats away your soul. Finally, when there's nothing left—that's when the good part starts."

—Malevolent, Dungeon Confessions
15

A Case of Heartburn

Starting at the point of impact, the fire devoured me, burning away my hair before traveling to the rest of my body. I felt a flash of intense searing pain before my nerves thankfully singed away.
Black Crow backed away from my nightmare and covered her nose to escape the stench. Her back hit the dresser, bumping the mirror so that it tilted in such a way that I could see the fiery angel I had become.
The angel's arms—my arms—came up, and the fire shifted, burning white, then green. Where the green fire burned, the skin reknit itself. In moments, I was healed and renewed—like a phoenix rising from the ashes of my former self.
That couldn't possibly be me, could it?
Girl of Emerald, no man can tame. Burn down the world, consumed by flames.
Seeing part of the Emerald curse come to life should have scared me hexless. But I felt strong and powerful. Like I could take on the world. The feeling was intoxicating. I wanted more. I needed more.
A brown blur streaked across the room, snapping me out of my trance and knocking me over. Kato's tawny wings felt like ice as they covered me, smothering the flames. Continuing to pat me, he cried, "Dorthea, are you okay?"
The euphoria of the intoxication was gone, and I felt frozen, physically trapped under the weight of the chimera. Mentally and emotionally, I seized up in shock. This was clearly another pixie dust–induced hallucination.
"It's amazing. I've never seen anything like it." Black Crow looked at me like you might look at a three-eyed toad.
That couldn't be a good thing.
"Take a look in the mirror." Her earlier craziness completely gave way to her curiosity. Well, maybe that wasn't true. She still looked utterly mad but more like a mad scientist.
I pushed Kato off me and walked to the mirror. Before looking in it, I glanced back at him. The look on his face was indecipherable, and I don't think it was just the furriness obscuring his thoughts. I had the feeling that his human face would have been just as difficult to read. His overall body language looked wary.
But of me or Black Crow?
I didn't want to look. I was afraid of what I would see. The girl of Emerald consumed by flames? A burned-black husk? Finally, I took a deep breath and stared in the mirror. My nose was no longer bleeding, swollen, or broken. All my earlier wounds were completely healed.
And my hair was still on fire.
Bright orange tendrils of flame weaved and swirled over my shoulders as if directed by the wind. The tips of my hair ended in emerald-green flickers.
"Get it out! Get it out!" I screamed. I beat at my head to tamp out the flames. They didn't go out, but they didn't burn my palms either.
"A living flame. I've only ever read about it in myths. I didn't think it could actually be achieved," Black Crow said with a tone of reverence.
"Where's a bucket of water?" I looked around frantically for the bathroom, ready to dunk my head in a toilet if I had to.
Crow grabbed my wrist. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Living flame is life magic." Taking her razor feather, she cut off one of the emerald sparks and stuffed it into the empty vial.
"Hey! Give that back." I tried to swipe the vial, but she danced away. "And what does that mean, anyway?"
Kato spoke quietly. "The magic is tied to your life. Put simply, if those green flames die, so do you."
That little fact made me stop playing keep away and stare back into the mirror.
Crow prattled on, examining the vial. Turning it this way and that. "Quite right. Glad one of you has a brain. I still don't know how it was done though. The potion itself was a simple explosion hex, but I suppose when it mixed with the blood from your head wound... Well, look at the results. Do you understand what this means? How much money I could make using your blood with the rest of my potions?"
Black Crow paced, going on and on about possible combinations, but I mostly tuned her out. I stood transfixed by what I saw in the mirror. There was no pain—I wasn't getting burned. My fingers twirled the tendrils of flame unharmed.
Was it permanent? Could I ever shower again? What if I got caught in a rainstorm?
"—and maybe if Grizelda had given me a little bit of warning about your blood, I would have crafted the wishing star differently."
"You would have what?" My voice hardened, unrecognizable even to my own ears. The ends of my hair flared a brighter green.
Black Crow blinked a few times, trying to adjust to my abrupt change in attitude. "The star. I would have made—"
"You did this. You ruined my life. You made my parents disappear. You killed Verte."
"Now...I...d-d-don't...think," she stuttered, backing away from me.
The living flame turned inward, burning away nearly all rational thought. It honed my pain, my focus, and my rage onto one central point: Black Crow.
"Bring. Them. Back."
Crow's eyes went impossibly wide and her mouth went slack. She looked like she had seen the devil, and maybe she had. Backing farther away, she offered more denials, but her excuses fell on deaf ears. I could only hear a little voice whispering to me in the back of my head. It no longer chirped like a cricket. Now it slithered through my consciousness like a snake.
This woman has taken everything from you, just to make a quick buck. She deserves to pay. You could make her pay.
Yeah, I should make her pay. But first she was going to tell me how to undo this spell.
I sent my hands out to snatch her, but green flames burst from my palms instead. They slammed into Black Crow, knocking her into the potions case. All the remaining vials and bottles broke, spilling their contents onto her.
She didn't burst into flames like I had. Her skin turned a sallow yellow and bubbled, dripping like hot wax. One eye drooped down her cheek; the other pleaded with me. Her mouth tilted into a sickening mockery of a grin. Her limbs flattened and went boneless.
Without a doubt, the most horrifying thing I had ever seen.
And I had done it.
My earlier rage was extinguished immediately, replaced with a shame deep enough to bury a giant. "Oh my Grimm. I'm... I didn't..."
Her hand stretched out to me, and I rushed to it. Before I had a chance to help her, she slashed across my palm with a razored feather. Blood flowed freely from the almost surgical slice. I sat motionless as she applied my blood to her melting skin.
Within the room, the air changed. Something was happening but probably not what she wanted.
The puddling stopped and her skin re-formed into a solid state. She got a little taller and stiffer, the surface of her skin taking a clothlike appearance. Her face looked flat, like someone had painted all her features on. Her limbs got bulbous and lumpy, as though they were stuffed with straw. When the magic finished with her, the only thing that remained was a scarecrow.
The horror in front of me would not compute. I could have blamed a lot of things, but deep inside, I'd wanted this. Not this per se. But I'd needed Crow to pay, and she had. In full.
Mentally, I added Verte's and Black Crow's names to the tally of things I had a hand in destroying.
The list kept growing.
Kato sat by the bed; he had been ever since putting out the fire, quietly watching the events unfold. He hadn't reacted at all, and that just seemed wrong. Spell's bells, he still wasn't reacting at all to the fact that I had just changed a living being into a scarecrow.
He calmly stood and padded to the door.
"We can't leave. We have to do something." My voice cracked.
"There's nothing we can do for her. And she doesn't deserve your pity. Don't forget she tried to kill you and keep me for a pet."
"I don't need the reminder, thanks." Crow was in league with the wicked witch of the west, but right now, I felt like the bigger monster.
"Maybe you do. Evil needs to be stopped, whatever the cost."
The crackle of shattering glass came from outside, and the floor shook from some sort of impact.
"It's time for us to go." Kato turned again to leave.
"I'm staying. Rexi might still be here somewhere. And maybe I can help—" That plan went out the window. Or rather out the roof.
With a loud creaking sound, a large metallic gigan, with an equally large ax, sliced the roof off from the house. He peered down at us with empty black eyes and a nose that poked out crookedly, like the tip of an oilcan. Shiny, pieced-together tin plates made up the rest of his enormous body—including the hand that reaching down into the room.