Burn With Me (7 page)

So he hadn’t been a dream.

She had to be sure. “Penn?”

Not
-Penn fluffed her curls with her hands before running her palms over her breasts. “I haven’t done anything to her, though I admit I’d be tempted if you were involved and you wouldn’t be traumatized by the moral implications. Also, before you ask, I’ve made sure she can hear us. But enough about that. She’s not the one I’m here for. Are you watching the water? He shouldn’t have put your hot little hands in a glass bowl, but then, he couldn’t have known that. He’s only human.”

“Why is she talking like that, Aziza? Is this a joke you two have cooked up to play on me? Because if it is, it’s not fucking funny.” Greg sounded shocked. Angry.

Aziza looked down and her jaw dropped. “Oh no.” The last of the water was turning to steam and the glass was beginning to
melt
. Morph. How hot were her hands burning to make glass melt? “Does this look like a joke to you, Greg? What’s happening with the glass?”

“It’s melting, of course. And Greg isn’t here right now. It’s me again. I’m the one you should be asking, regardless.” Greg’s voice was amused and calm.
Not
Greg. Aziza was worried she might start hyperventilating. Whatever this dream man was, he’d just moved from her aunt to her best friend, leaving Penn moaning in confusion beside her.

And he was still talking.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me you don’t like this ability either. You are incredibly difficult to please, precious Aziza. At any rate, you’ll learn to shape with the fire another time. Somewhere in the middle of a lake or ocean where you can’t hurt anyone, yes? Now we must focus on stopping this, instead of answering unnecessary questions. The flames disappeared when I did, but then they came back. Why?”

She had a million questions, but he was right. The fire had to be put out first. “The giant—the man who’s been following me. He said his name was Brandon. He was…”

“Say no more,” Not-Greg murmured in a silken tone. She could hear a thread of irritation beneath. “I understand how he must have upset you. His kind have that effect. Strong emotions, emotions that arouse or stir you for good or ill, can trigger the untrained. Without guidance it can lead to something like this. Did he see it?”

She shook her head before glaring at him accusingly. “Strong emotions can trigger it…or you? This didn’t happen until you—”

“Shhh,” he commanded. “First things first, as you say. We’ll address our unfinished pleasure another time. Now you must find a thought that is peaceful. Soothing. Focus on it, to the exclusion of all else, and then tell yourself to turn down the heat until the flames fade.” He reached out to caress her cheek. “You can control this, Aziza. You are made to. It’s in your blood.”

First he’d told her to burn; now he wanted her to cool down. How could she? How in the midst of this insane day could she possibly find a peaceful thought?

Out of the chaos in her mind it came to her.

“Hot air balloons,” she murmured. A memory from years before. She and Greg had tagged along with Joseph and his friends for the annual balloon festival. They’d actually gotten to go up that day. She remembered the feeling of floating, watching a fleet of colorful balloons dot the sky around her. She’d looked down and marveled at how beautiful the world seemed from that vantage point.

That’s when she’d seen her. The woman dangling below one of the balloons ahead of them on a kind of metallic hoop. A fearless trapeze artist, she twisted her body around the metal ring in a sort of sinuous dance that seemed dangerous and yet…it was the most beautiful thing Aziza had ever seen.

Freedom. Out of the basket and into the air. Hanging by a thread and carried by the wind. Aziza couldn’t tear her gaze away. She imagined she was that woman. How, if she just lifted her arms and ignored the boisterous males behind her, she could do what the trapeze artist was doing.
Be her
for just a moment. It would almost be like… 

“Flying.”

“I think it’s working, Aziza.” Penn was hovering nervously, as if unsure, and Aziza knew she’d been truly frightened.

Stay calm
, she told herself.
Turn it down.
She studied her hands and saw that the glass had stopped warping and the flames were merely flickering on her fingertips.

She kept her thoughts on that day. The balloons. On the wind that had whipped her braid around as if trying to undo it. On Joseph laughing with Greg, both of them insisting she had a wild imagination and that they didn’t see what she did. Didn’t see the woman at all. Both of them watching over her protectively when she leaned too far over the edge of the basket, desperate to get a closer look at the female daredevil before she drifted completely out of sight.

That had been her favorite day.

“There.” Not-Greg clapped his hands together in approval. “That was easier than we imagined, yes? I know
I’m
relieved.”

“You’re the only one.” Aziza took a calming breath. Then another. “I know you were with me today in the garden. I need you to tell me what you are. Who you are. Then you can tell me what you did to me.”

“What
I
did?” Greg raised his hands to his temples and groaned while Penn’s voice took over.
Not Penn.
“What I did was help a Fireborne without permission.
Twice.
It’s not my job, you know. I protect, I don’t instruct. In fact, I put myself in danger of being recalled, and I gain nothing but your favor, which I hope will be substantial and sexual in nature.”

Not-Penn slid Aziza’s hair over her shoulder and kissed her neck. “Unless that’s not what you’re talking about. Do you mean what I did to you in the garden? What you did to me before we were interrupted?” Another kiss fell on her temple and then the mouth hovered. Hesitated. “Love your earring, by the way. All of them, of course, but that one there? Right on the top? That one was obviously a gift from someone who didn’t know what you would become. What you are. It
is
pointless in your case. It only protects humans. And it’s far too plain for such a beauty.”

“What?” She moved away from the touch and stood, crossing her arms defensively. “Never mind. I saw you, which means you have the ability to show yourself. So why talk through the people I love and take away their voices? Why scare them? If you want to terrorize me, fine. They aren’t a part of this.”

Not-Penn held out her arms and sighed dramatically. “Yes, yes, Ms. Spanish Inquisition, you did indeed see me. I can currently appear to you alone at any time, but since these two have seen what you can do and we can’t have them inadvertently putting you in more danger, I knew I had to make a decision. There are rules as to what I am allowed to do, and I broke several of them this afternoon. Now I’m breaking a few more. But what are rules if not something to be broken, yes?”

Not-Penn tilted her head and studied Aziza. “Speaking through them was the only way I could tell you what you needed to know,
save you
, until my
tau’ma—
you would use the word
partner,
I believe
—
receives approval for us to disclose the necessary information and brings back our official traveling papers.” Aziza’s strange visitor snorted, eerie emerald eyes sparkling. “Bureaucracy, you call it. I name it as the demon it is. The mere idea that we need permission to interact with—”

Greg pushed Aziza behind himself, interrupting her possessed aunt with a glare. “What. Are. You?”

One blonde eyebrow lifted in surprise. “Welcome to the game, man of clay. Slow, but look how quickly you bounced back. I’m impressed you haven’t fainted yet. Humans have that tendency around me, for various reasons I won’t go into right now.”

Not-Penn bowed with a flourish. “I am called Ram, since the woman who bore me loves long, important-sounding names that no one can pronounce and I’m always looking for the shortcut. What
I am
is currently not an accepted topic for discussion. You should be asking what Aziza is.”

Aziza laid her forehead on Greg’s back for a moment, knowing he was trying to protect her. Knowing without a doubt that in this case he couldn’t. She walked around him. “Ram? What am
I
then? How did you make my hands do that?”

Not-Penn’s expression was serious. Almost pitying. “You are the last descendant of your father. All that remains of what was already a rare and unique lineage. Once you’d accepted your gift with the oath of blood and your initiation had begun, my
tau’ma,
Shev, and I decided to intervene before the line was completely eradicated. Since you’ve had no exposure to that part of your family, no inkling of what it is you are or how to protect yourself, we didn’t believe it was fair to abandon you to the whims of chance—regardless of the cost to us. My one mistake was not waiting for Shev’s return before awakening the spark within you.” That smile again. “But I couldn’t resist, and you must admit you enjoyed the experience.”

Aziza looked up at Greg, knowing he would see her pallor, her confusion. She also hoped he would see her resolve. “I need a drink. Desperately. Penn has cognac in the cabinet above the fridge. Grab me a glass?”

He resisted, sending her a “no way in hell
am I moving from this spot” expression. She countered with a “trust me and do it because I can out-stubborn
you” glare. Finally he nodded and moved to the kitchen, keeping her and Penn in view the entire time, while Aziza turned to face her possessed aunt.

“Look, you twisted motherfucker. Get out of her
now
. I don’t care what you are—you can’t play with people like they’re lifeless dolls. She’s a human being.”

“Language, please.” Not-Penn sighed and shook her head, blonde curls swaying with the movement. “She is human, yes. And I hate to disagree with you, but this is
exactly
how I can play with her. As long as I do no harm in this body or to it, it is fully permissible under the law. It also ensures my protection.” Aziza continued to stare stone-faced at the creature until it relented. “However, I can see you don’t understand, and I have no desire to anger you further, Fireborne. You would never forgive yourself or me if you lost control again.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Penn staggered and Aziza reached for her, pulling her pint-sized aunt into her arms. “Penn? Is that you? Are you okay?”

“Fine, I think. No.” Her voice trembled. “No, I don’t think I am. Aziza, your mother… I thought she’d gone mental when she told me about this. About things possessing people to talk to her. And other things,
horrible
things that happened before she took you away. One of the reasons she left was to prot—”

“Now, now,” Ram murmured, causing everyone in the room to turn toward the window where he was now standing in his own body, watching the street below. “One thing at a time, little English. Aziza has a lot to absorb and she must do it swiftly. There is more than one wolf at her door.”

He looked exactly the way she remembered, though this time he was more in focus and…clothed. Dressed all in white as if to match her, with a poet shirt that opened to reveal the beautifully flawless bronze of his skin and loose-fitting pants thin enough to reveal the shape of his legs. His sandals barely seemed to touch the floor, and with the light coming in from the window he appeared haloed, like an angel.

Aziza remembered the garden. The fire. His lush mouth and the hypnotic gaze that promised carnal delight. Even if he hadn’t just used Greg and Penn as human sock puppets, she would know he was definitely
not
an angel.

He was everything her mother had warned her about.

Greg had set down Aziza’s glass and strode toward Ram, his manner angry, more threatening than she’d ever seen him. “There you are, you demonic son of a bi—”

Ram lifted one finger and Greg froze midstep, his mouth open, but no sound emerging. His eyes were still wide and expressive, however. Still aware. “Americans,” Ram said and sighed, glancing over at Aziza with an apologetic expression. “So impatient. So impulsive. He’s done it now, forced me to use the abilities that gave you so much pleasure to restrain him instead. Since I’m visible as well—that’s two strikes for anyone counting—I’m afraid I’ll have to go soon. Too soon for me to answer any more of your questions. Before I go, I left you something in your bedroom. I made it for you when I first learned of my new assignment. All women love jewelry, don’t they? And you, from my observations, have a preference for this particular accessory.”

Invisible fingers caressed Aziza’s cheek, making her flinch as he continued speaking from across the room, his expression one of utter innocence. “You need a replacement anyway, something worthy of you, and it will help you control your gifts until you can do it on your own.”

There was a loud, threatening knock on the door, beating fast and fiercely. Urgently. Ram swore. “That’s my warning. Do yourselves a favor and don’t answer it. And I’m not a demon, Aziza. If you want to know more, know how to protect yourself from your—what did you call it?—
curse
, then come to the center of the city, where no side is taken, tonight at midnight. You should appreciate the poetry of that, and Shev will have returned by then. In public, you can be assured of your safety. As can I,” he murmured. “Then you might begin to understand.”

Ram winked at Penn and stepped back toward the window, disappearing as if through a door none of them could see.

“—itch!” Greg finished his sentence and his foot stomped down to the floor with a
thud
. He looked around, profound disbelief etched in his expression. “Where is he? How the hell did he
do
that? It felt like a gang of thugs had ahold of me.”

The knocking stopped abruptly. Greg turned as if to go to the door but she stopped him. “Don’t. Please, Greg, don’t open the door yet.”

Crazy like your mother. Crazy. Crazy. The curse would be better than this.

When Greg stopped moving, Aziza let go of Penn and started to pace. “For the record, I need you both to tell me honestly—did you just see that? All of it? That wasn’t in my head?”