Hellfire

Chapter Six

May 1994

The days went by - tense and stressful for different reasons.

Ella and Alistair were making things very stressful for me. Now that the ice had been broken, Ella was losing the hostility she held towards Alistair. Every evening, she drifted from my side and began to watch out for him. He'd of course appear. Now that she wasn't scowling or hiding and seemingly wanting to learn about what he was, Alistair was keen to be by her side whenever she'd allow, even if it was only in the presence of either Sam or the youngsters. That chemistry was thickening. I could see it and I didn't like it, but there was little I could do, especially when Sam and the youngsters were purposefully going out their way to push them together, no matter whether I was watching from the shadows or not. I quickly gave up. There was no winning when I saw those sparks the moment their eyes locked.

Lucius, meanwhile, was making me incredibly tense. I hadn't seen him at all the last few days. While I was supposed to be glad, I wasn't. I had no one to argue with, no one to give me jobs, no one to keep me cool by just being in the same room. It was driving me mad. Arnold didn't care about my increasingly heated temperament and believed me being far from Lucius as possible was better than the patches of burnt carpet or my flaring anger. I'd rumble with flames whenever I saw those little black bats darted to Doc or Oliver to send them out to deal with problems in the city. Not one was sent to me. I was left to twiddle my thumbs and watch the grounds, wondering if Lucius was making any strides with his addiction and when I could see him again. I tried to take comfort from the lack of fights breaking out, but it didn't soothe away the sensation I was being totally ignored and it made me pace, bouncing on my heels as I waited and waited and burned with impatience. I needed to get out and do something. I'd been a sitting duck for too long, heightening the feeling of needing to see Lucius and the pressing sense of entrapment.

April moved into May and I had been sitting on my arse for two weeks doing nothing. My fire was hot in my chest, leaking out of my mouth and making me want to punch something, to the point the other now avoided me. I itched to go back to Lucius, demanding answers because I knew for sure those witches had moved on by the reports Oliver had given me. But I knew that was the worst thing I could do after my last encounter with him. If one day made him that unstable, fourteen days of starvation was going to be testing those precious threads of his limits. I couldn't push him over the edge.

But my limits were being pushed also. I was getting waspish, my mood dark and words venomous, pacing endlessly up and down any room I could find, usually where Arnold or Mo were so I could just randomly shout at them about Lucius and my lack of jobs (which was shrugged away or ignored). The youngsters now avoided me entirely and didn't dare attempt to try test my patience. More worryingly, my fire flared randomly at the smallest annoyance, the lock loose and unable to keep it under control like usual. I had accidently turned one of Sam's plants into ash yesterday evening and yelled at her to shut up when she rightfully got upset.

I hated it when I was like this. More fire than woman, spouting rage and leaving sooty black footsteps in my wake. So, I decided to take things into my own hands. If he wasn't going to give me work, I was going to take it.

Which was why I was running out across the lawn on the cool spring day that threatened to break into rains, delving into the wild woods that sprawled at the back of the house. Some bats winged by, but most slept clustered together in the trees wherever the golden sunlight couldn't reach. They twittered at my wide steps, singing in recognition before drifting off back to sleep.

'Doc?' I called out as I neared his usual spot.

I found him asleep by the gnarled wild roots of a hazel tree, unsurprisingly in his wolf shape. His body was as big as a horse, his fur marbled between coal black and mud brown with large patches missing, revealing mottled burns streaking over his back and legs. His breath whistled wildly out of his nose, something that the bats seemed to be fascinated with as they mimicked him, echoing out their own whistles.