Angel Fire (19 page)

“All right, what did you have in mind?”

“You said there was a small lake behind your aunt and uncle’s motel?”

I blinked, not understanding why he wanted to know that. “Yeah.”

“Why not have a picnic there?”

Actually, that sounded quite romantic to me.

“Why not?” I said with a smile.

* * *

We swung by the motel on the way. Uncle Edward was still fighting the computer, and when I asked him if I could be a little late, he grumbled his assent.

“Not too late, mind you; I have to make a deposit at the bank before it closes.”

“They have a 24-hour ATM there,” I reminded him, and that earned me a scowl.

He said, “That’ll be the day I trust one of those infernal machines. I’d rather a real live person I can yell at.”

I pressed my luck when I asked if we could borrow a few blankets, and he looked at me over the rim of his reading glasses.

“Any damage will come out of your pay,” he warned.

“Thanks, Uncle Edward.”

* * *

They called it Circle Lake, but it’s really more of an overgrown pond. I’m sure there’s a hard definition somewhere that will explain the difference, but if there were a line when determining which one it is, Circle Lake would fall right in the middle of it.

On the weekends, families would picnic in the surrounding area. During the week, it was rare to see anyone out there. Today was no exception: just the birds, the sagebrush, and us.

When we got there, I spread the blankets out while Neil unpacked our lunch. Club sandwiches and potato chips, with coleslaw and two big bottled waters.

The simplicity of the lunch took me a little off guard. I guess I was hoping for something a little more extravagant, maybe some assorted cheeses, French bread, sliced fruits and chocolate. I know I shouldn’t have read anything in to it, but I started to doubt. Of course, I realized my feelings for Neil were only just blossoming. Although I found him physically attractive, I hadn’t thought of him in more romantic terms until yesterday. The new connection we had developed in the last two days had stirred emotions in me that were more personal than intimate. I wondered, however, whether those feelings would, or could, be reciprocated.

He wasn’t exactly doting on me like a lovesick puppy. Instead, he stared out at the lake, lost not in my eyes, but in his own thoughts.

“So, what now?” I interrupted him.

“Now we help each other.”

I nodded. “All right. How?”

“Well, you said your uncle saw your great-grandmother set the lake on fire. Do you think you can do that?”

“I tried yesterday,” I admitted. “It was a waste of time.”

He stood up and took a few measured paces toward the edge of the lake. A moment later, I followed.

“In both of us,” said Neil, “the ability originally manifested only when we experienced the death of someone close. Afterwards, the power is triggered by extreme emotions.”

In the distance, a fish broke the surface of the water in its quest for insects.

Neil narrowed his eyes. “It took me a long time to learn to channel my power over water. But with me, there is a difference.”

I asked, “How do you mean?”

“I can’t create water out of nothing; I can only control it.” He looked at me. “You can
cause
objects to ignite; you can
create
fire. A small distinction, but maybe what works for me won’t work for you.”

After a moment of thought, he continued: “There are also limits. For example, I think the most I can do is change the course of a stream of water, like from a fire hose, and direct it to hit certain areas. I can cause rain drops to splinter into needles, and can make a small volume of water—say about equal to my own weight—form cool shapes, like that hand from last night. I can’t, however, change the course of a river, or drain this lake, or anything quite so dramatic.”

I said, “That seems quite impressive to me. I mean, that you can do those things when you want.”

“It takes a bit of effort. I have to put myself in something like a hypnotic state. You know, like when you’re very tired and driving home late at night. Before you realize it, you’re there and you have no recollection of how you got there. So I was thinking, maybe in that way you can also trigger your own power.”

I said, “In her journal, my great-grandmother wrote that she had to embrace the power and surrender to it. But I have no idea how to do that.”

“Can we try an experiment?” he asked, looking at me directly for the first time since we finished eating.

“Sure.”

He gestured to my torso with both hands. “The fire, the power, is in there; it’s in you all the time. But it doesn’t have any focus; it is held back by your conscious mind. When you get very angry, your subconscious takes over and releases the power as a defense mechanism. It’s uncontrolled and dangerous, though.”

Neil dropped to one knee right at the water’s edge.

“Try this,” he said. “Imagine all the sunshine that hits the entire planet. Now imagine that sunshine gets focused and concentrated on a smaller and smaller area; like through a magnifying glass.”

He motioned for me to kneel beside him. “Put your hand out toward the center of the lake. Go ahead.”

I did so, and tried to focus my mind as he instructed.

After a full minute, when nothing happened, I slapped the water with my hand in frustration. “It’s not working.”

“Nothing to worry about,” he said in a calm tone. “We’re just exploring right now. Maybe it’s about trust.”

“Trust … in you?”

He shook his head. “No, in yourself; that if you release the monster, you won’t lose control of it.”

Was that it? Was I simply afraid of the fire? Was I afraid that it would consume everything in sight, including Neil?

“You’ve spent your life trying to bottle it up,” he continued. “It’s going to take you awhile to trust yourself. Try again. Don’t worry. If the fire gets out of hand, I have a water source right here. I can put the flames out.”

I took a deep breath, willed myself to relax, and extended my hand out again. My entire body vibrated from the effort of concentration. Veins stood out on my neck. A minute passed, and I was ready to throw in the towel.

I balled my hands into fists of frustration. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Patience,” Neil schooled.

“It’s not one of my virtues.” I let out a humorless laugh. “Usually it’s an act of sheer will for me to keep my temper.”

“It took me months, years to get a handle on it,” he said. “You’re not going to master this in an hour or even a day.”

“If I don’t figure this out,” I shot back, “someone is going to get hurt.”

Neil put his hands on my shoulders. “I know. It’s frustrating. But maybe you’re trying too hard to let it go.”

“Huh?”

“What you said a moment ago. It’s an act of sheer will to keep it in. That’s what you use your mantra for?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Where did you say you learned it?”

“My cellmate in prison, Kyra. She was into all this new age metaphysical stuff. Healing through meditation, channeling your inner-self. She was a good friend.”

At that moment I realized how much I missed her. I felt a sharp pang in my heart and my eyes misted over. If not for her, I would never have made it through those first few years.

“Was?” asked Neil.

“She was in on a drug charge. She’d been clean since I first met her, but her history of use, combined with her weight—she was a big girl—was a recipe for disaster. She had a heart attack in the middle of the night about five years ago.”

I fell into a thoughtful silence.

“I’m sorry,” said Neil.

“But she’s the one who taught me the mantra. It really helped me focus whenever I started to feel the power creep out. For years I’ve been able to keep the fire inside. I thought I finally had it under control; that I was safe to come home again. That’s the only reason I accepted parole. If I’d known it was going to be so hard to keep control on the outside, I would have opted to serve out the rest of my sentence in prison.”

“I have an idea,” said Neil.

“What?”

“Well, if your mantra works, even to a small degree, in quelling the power, maybe you can use it for the opposite effect.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“In a way, the mantra is a means of finding your calm center. It’s like self-hypnosis; same thing I do. Why not try and use your mantra to channel your energy out instead of in?”

I thought about it a moment. “I guess it’s worth a shot.”

I faced the water again and closed my eyes.

“Relax,” Neil coached. “Recite your mantra. And when you are completely at peace and in control, release all your internalized energy at the water.”

A deep breath, and then I began to speak:

“My eyes can see.

“My tongue can taste.

“My mouth can smile.

“My lungs can breathe.

“My heart can beat.

“My stomach can digest.

“My legs can walk.

“My body is calm.”

I took a deep breath.

“I am in control.”

For the briefest of moments, nothing happened…

But then a tiny wisp of steam emanated from a spot in front of me. I saw a single bubble float up from under the surface, then more and more. Radiating outward from that point, the water began to boil and froth.

Steam rose into the air with a hiss, and the lake took on a darker color as the affected area increased. The bubbles grew larger, and when they burst, they splashed hot water toward us.

“All right, pull back,” Neil instructed.

I barely registered his voice.

A spark shot from the water with a snap.

“Control it!” he said.

Red balls of flame erupted from the lake, as if the entire surface had been covered in oil.

Neil’s voice rose in pitch. “Darcy! Stop it! I can’t do it!”

From my periphery, I saw him holding his scalded hand. He had tried to use his power over water to fight the fire, and must have gotten too close.

“You have to shut it down!” he said.

My forehead beaded with perspiration as I willed the heat to lessen.

Slowly, the flames on the water diminished. The water stopped bubbling and the lake was serene once more.

His face relaxed. “You did it!”

I was completely drained. “My God, that was hard! Are you all right?”

Neil glanced at his hand. “Yeah, just stings a bit. A little bit of ice and I’ll be fine. What matters is you were able to summon the fire on command; and then you were able to stop it. That’s more than I had hoped.”

“I did stop it, didn’t I?”

“Now all you need is practice. Soon, you’ll get to the point where you can summon or stop it without the mantra. You can make it happen just by thinking it.”

“Thank you!” I threw my arms around him, and after a tentative moment, he returned the hug.

“My pleasure,” he said.

It was an impulse, and I had no awareness that I was doing it, but somewhere deep inside me a passion had grown to bursting. I found myself kissing Neil full on the lips, hungry and urgent. My tongue found his and I felt him stiffen against my hip.

Then, as if aware of his reaction and embarrassed by it, he detached himself and looked uncomfortable.

“Say, it’s almost time for you to get back to your shift. Your uncle’s going to be mad as a hare,” said Neil.

I was so elated with my newfound control, and taken by my instant desire for him, I had completely forgotten about my mundane life.

The pang of rejection when Neil broke off our embrace made me feel uncertain, as if my feelings for him were one-sided. Maybe he didn’t find me attractive. I tried to hide my embarrassment.

Keeping my voice light, I asked, “Hey, can we come back tomorrow? I can practice then. Maybe I’ll have more control.”

“Sure,” he said, and gave me half a smile. “Same time; same place. I’ll bring the lunch again.”

“Deal.”

He got to his feet and held out his hand to help me up. Together, we packed up our picnic and returned to the motel.

I dropped him off at his room, and before he went inside, he stood there awkwardly, as if wanting to say something.

Just as I was about to give up on him, he confused me completely: he leaned toward me and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

“Tomorrow, then?”

He went inside, leaving me completely baffled and disoriented. If I lived to be a hundred, I would never figure men out.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I couldn’t wait
a full day to practice using my power. Not only was I far too excited to sit on my hands, but I needed something to distract me from running my mind in circles about my feelings for Neil.

Once Uncle Edward finished dressing me down for being tardy, he headed off down town, muttering about how he would probably get to the bank too late.

As soon as I saw his truck pull out onto the highway and disappear into the distance, I hurried through my afternoon rounds. Mondays were usually quiet for front office duties, but clean up after the weekend guests took quite a bit of effort. Aunt Martha typically finished cleaning rooms by two in the afternoon. After that, she would most likely be back at the bungalow preparing dinner.

I made a quick detour to their place and saw that it was empty. Both Uncle Edward and Aunt Martha were elsewhere. When I was satisfied that all my daily chores were up to date and no one was around, I returned to the office and pulled the blinds down.

I reviewed the reservations list and saw there were only three guests expected tonight. Two had already checked in. The third—a travelling salesman—had left a note that he would be arriving late. Other than drop-ins, I was looking at a quiet evening.

There was a narrow table next to the counter that Uncle Edward used for his filing system. Mesh baskets held papers and forms for upcoming reservations, current guests, and completed visits awaiting more permanent filing in the cabinet in the back office.

I temporarily moved those baskets to the floor against the wall to make some space.

I’d swiped an ashtray and a box of matchbooks from the cleaning cart in the storage room already, and I placed the ashtray on the table and balanced one of the matchbooks in the center.