Marionette

Prologue

The flames chased each other up.

Crackling and popping from the breaking house made Grady shudder.

It was too late.

Too late.

No— no— no his mind stuttered.

They set the fire, Grady realized with a jolt of horror. The Black Swan. A memory of a note flashed through his mind. The note the Black Swan had left him, right before the fire. You don't know what you're dealing with, it had said. It's my fault.

He froze, knowing all too well the damage guilt could do. It wasn't my fault. I didn't kill her. It wasn't my fault! He lashed out at himself. The mansion creaked, the inferno spitting sparks. Grady shuddered, despite the heat.

Was she still alive? Was she... in there? He had to check. He had to try.

Grady fumbled his way to the door, accidentally putting his hand on the metal doorknob, burning it. He gritted his teeth, struggling to push aside the pain.

He pryed his consciousness inside the house, feeling for the familiar tug of strings only he felt. If she was in shock, or knocked out, Grady could pull her by the strings, like she was a puppet. Using his power was not... ideal... but she would survive. My daughter won't die. She's not allowed to. I don't remember giving her the permission, Grady thought desperately, laughing hollowly at himself. He pushed his consciousness farther... farther... until he felt the lightest sense of pressure tugging his mind.

She's alive.

Hope burst in Grady's chest, and he shoved his will on her harder than he'd ever done before. Her limbs shuddered as they pushed her to a standing position, Grady felt the tremors like it was him who was moving.

She stumbled one step... two... but on the third, she tripped over a burning piece of furniture Grady hadn't known was there. He tried to get her to stand again, but her ankle was twisted. She didn't move. 

Grady froze, knowing there was nothing else he could do. No matter how much will and power he had, he couldn't move the dead.

It was too late.

He was cold, frozen.

No.

He was hot.

Burning hot.

Scalding.

He struggled to rip off his heavy, flameproof cloak, finally managing with numb fingers. He stumbled in the dancing light of the fire.

He was going to burn burn burn to death--

Just like her.