Little Spark

21 - Backfire

A fire.

At the church.

As soon at the words are out of Charlie's mouth, I feel a rush of that same protective urge I felt the night the Shadows attacked Ruby. Charlie's jaw is on the floor, so I know I'm steaming or glowing or sparking or something—but I couldn't care less.

Candis is at the church.

"Now hold on a minute, Bliss," Mr. Tate says, rising from his chair and cautiously approaching me. "You've got to stay calm, alright? I'm sure it's not as bad as it sounds. Let's go to my car and I'll drive us over there." His voice has that muffled quality Luca's had when Mauro was making banshees holler in my head.

I look at my hands. They glow white.

"Uh-oh—Bliss...." I can see Mr. Tate's mouth move, but I can no longer hear him.

Something explodes inside me. My vision blurs and I hear the deafening roar of air rushing past my ears as I'm wrenched forward through a split second of blackness. When everything comes back into focus, I find myself outside next to my bike.

I dig my nails into my palms again and force myself to focus. Church. Fire. Candis. Must get to Candis.

I mount my bike and launch off, pumping my legs so hard my muscles burn. When I reach the turn down to the church, two police cars block the road. I pull to a stop right in front of the barricade, fresh surges of panic coursing through my body with each heartbeat.

"Miss, I need for you to head in the opposite direction," says the badged, but ununiformed officer standing on the other side of the roadblock. His nose and mouth are covered with a mask, but his grey eyes are clear and sharp.

I look over his shoulder. I can't see the church—it's still about a half mile down and around a bend—but thick, black smoke clouds the air.

"Sir, my friend is in the church!" I shout.

He shakes his head. "Everyone was evacuated except for an elderly couple. So unless your friend is eighty-three years old, I can assure you, he or she is fine."

I chew the inside of my lip, not comfortable with just taking his word and leaving. "What happened?" I ask. "How did the fire start?"

"Suspected arson, but you didn't hear that from me," he replies without emotion. "Now listen, I appreciate what you're trying to do here, sweetheart, but you really have to go now. This smoke isn't anything to mess around with, okay? Go on, now."

I look past him again. I can't let any more people I love get hurt—or worse.

My eyes run along the barricade to the dense woods lining the road on the left side. As long as I can keep the road within sight, I can ride through them and find the church.

I sigh dramatically, then turn my bike around and pretend to do as he says (although, from the way he watches me pull off, I'm sure he knows I'm up to something). Once out of his sight, I count to ten and turn off into the woods.

I find a trail that seems to head back toward the road, but as I round a set of dense bushes, I run over something that knocks my bike off-center. A growl and rustle within the bushes startle me, and I overcorrect, landing facedown in the leaf-covered dirt.

I rush back to my feet and see the cause of my crash: a thick, fallen tree branch mostly concealed by leaves. I rush over with the aim of moving it off the trail so I can continue on to the church, but when I reach down to pick it up, it moves.

"Ahhh!" I yell out, falling backwards and landing hard on my butt. There's movement in the bushes again, this time accompanied by a low groan and a string of whispered curse words. Apparently, my 'branch' is actually a human leg; the foot is so well hidden, I didn't even notice it.