Ignited (37 page)

He needed space. That made sense. His grandfather had died so suddenly; anyone who lost their closest family member needed time and distance to sort through their feelings.

It didn’t mean she could help wishing he’d stayed home and allowed her to dote on him, instead.

She hadn’t wanted to be idle either, so she’d spent her morning sewing stitch after tiny stitch until finally,
finally
,
the dress was ready.

It was the first thing she’d ever worn that made her feel like a woman, rather than a girl. Everything about it made her want to stand taller. She couldn’t wait to show Henry. She
really
couldn’t wait for Henry to peel it off of her. She smoothed her hand down the fabric, her grin fading a bit.

Henry needed her right now. He was drowning himself in work, hoping that would keep him from feeling his grandfather’s loss. It wasn’t sustainable. Soon, he would crash. If she could convince him to take breaks, rest … maybe it wouldn’t be as bad.

A nice, home-cooked meal, some quality time. She’d dress up to make it extra special. It wasn’t much, but it was what she had to offer.

There was a knock at the door. Ruth paused, frowning. Most bereavement visitors had gone straight to the clinic yesterday. It seemed strange for them to come here instead of trying Henry there.

Ruth didn’t think as she walked to the front door and pulled it open. 

“Hello—” she began, before all the breath left her body.

“Hello, Ruth,” Edward said.

Ruth’s entire body went cold, then very abruptly, hot. She swung the door shut, pushing into it with all her might. But Edward stuck his boot in the doorway, keeping it from closing completely. She felt herself break out into a sweat as she leaned into the door, but it was no good. Her father pushed back, stronger than her, and it flew open, knocking her back onto the floor. She scrambled away from him.

“I heard this was where you were hiding,” he spat. He stalked inside without bothering to close the door behind him, his boots heavy on the wood floor as he took slow, measured steps toward her. Ruth couldn’t find her feet, she couldn’t find her
mind—
everything was blank inside of her.

He can’t touch me,
she thought.
He can’t hurt me. I won’t let him.

It was easier said than done, however. Especially when her limbs were still locked in place, and she couldn’t seem to come back to herself and
run
.

She needed help. She needed to get to Henry, or any of the Independents—
anyone
.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself, girl?” Edward kicked out with his foot and caught her thigh. 

Ruth let out a cry. 

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you, wouldn’t call on you to account for your sins?”

Ruth whimpered. The pain in her leg seared through her and woke up her brain, and she tried to scramble to her feet.

“Did you like being his whore?” Her father circled behind her and grabbed her by her hair, forcing her to stand the rest of the way. She felt like her scalp was going to come away from her skull in his grip, and tears flooded her eyes. “Well? Answer me! You gave up the only part of you that was worth a damn, and I’m asking you, Ruthie girl, if it was worth it!”

The pain on her thigh was already throbbing, and her head was yanked to the right under the force of her father’s grip on her hair. 

There was no one coming to help her. She would have to do this on her own.

“Let me go!” she cried, throwing out an arm toward his chest. She pushed all of her fire into her fingertips, let it sprout there, and it flared bright and hot.

Edward cried out and let her hair drop as he took a quick jump back.

“Demon!” he yelled, but she was already running, one foot in front of the other, out the open front door, down the front porch, onto the driveway—

And into the arms of Arnold Johnson.

Arnold’s face was made of stone as he brought his arms around her middle, ensnaring her.

For most of her life, she’d thought she’d
marry
this man. Now, he was a party to her kidnapping. The thought spurred her, and she wriggled in his grip, managing to free one of her arms and beat against his chest. The paved driveway was hot under her bare feet, but she could feel her body temperature rise to match it.

She didn’t want to hurt him. She didn’t like him, but she had grown up with him, and she had never before wished him ill.

The fire crackled inside her, and she tamped it down as best she could.

“Let go of me,” she hissed.

He shook his head, eyes trained on something behind them. “This is for your own good.” He maneuvered her around so that she could see her father stalking down the steps of the front porch. His shirt had a large singed hole in the middle, the skin underneath bright pink.

Good.

He approached, keeping better distance between them. She struggled harder, stamping on Arnold’s booted foot with her own bare one. It did nothing.

“Look at you.” Edward shook his head. “All of you—look at her!”

For the first time, Ruth paused. It was a mistake—Arnold’s arms pinned her tighter. She whipped her head from side to side, and yes—there they were. The Johnsons and some of the other parishioners. Some of these people had known Ruth since she was a child, had watched her grow up.

She felt herself grow hotter, and she turned back to glare at her father. She hoped he could feel all the hatred and anger in her gaze.

“She’s not herself anymore!” Edward motioned toward her face, shaking his head with disgust. “Look at her—this isn’t the girl you know. This is a
demon
.”

“I am
not
a demon!” She let her skin grow hot, the red dress smoldering. Arnold gave a screech and let her drop, shaking out his arms as he stumbled back.

Ruth didn’t waste any more time. She took off running, her feet pounding beneath her. She could hear the cries of the parishioners as they followed her, and she led them on a chase into the backyard. If she could get through the neighbor’s yard and make it to the woods ….

A few of the longer-legged parishioners figured out her plan and blocked the way. All around her, they formed a circle.

“Don’t worry, Ruth,” Arnold said. “We’re going to get the demon out of you. Your father said so.”

Ruth held out her arms, palms toward the sky, and let them catch flame. The fire shot upward, higher than she had ever let it get before.

There were cries, and the sound of a man yelling, faraway. One of the parishioners? How many
were
there?

Despite the commotion, she wasn’t scared. She would never have been given anything she couldn’t handle.

The circle shrank away from her. Back behind her, somewhere she couldn’t see, there was another yell.

As she lowered her arms, Ruth said, “I know this doesn’t make sense, and I know you are scared, but I am not possessed by a demon.”

“But the
fire
!” someone cried.

“Cora Briggs can manipulate water. June Powell can walk through walls. Matt Harris can lift hundreds of pounds with one hand. I can create fire.” She let a small flame lick out from her palm. “It’s not evil. It’s a
gift.
”

“A
gift
?” Her father’s voice rang out, and Ruth realized with a sickening lurch that he wasn’t among those encircling her.

She turned to see him coming closer. Bile rose up her throat. He had his arm around Henry’s neck, a knife pressed to his jugular.

“Look at all the pain you’re causing, Ruth,” Edward said, his voice even and disappointed. “Look at what your
gift
has done. I’m going to kill this man, Ruth. Kill him for what he’s done to you.”

Ruth could barely hear the words over the pounding of her heart. Henry had a bright red bruise forming over his cheek and eye.

“Ruth,” he started. “Get out of here, run! Don’t listen to hi—”

Edward pressed the knife against Henry’s throat, cutting of his words.

The fear left Ruth all at once. She felt her body go deadly calm, precise. She stalked toward her father, and people gave way.

The fire inside of her was begging to be unleashed, and Ruth let it go.

The flames ascended and ran up her exposed skin, crawling over her arms and legs and neck and face. Her dress began to smoke with the rest of her, the edges curling and crackling. Her fear for herself, for Henry, was secondary. More than anything, she was angry. 

She was powerful.

Her father gaped at her in horror and took a few stumbling steps back. “Ruth, you’re—”

“Let Henry go.”

The knife fell away from Henry’s throat, and he ran to Ruth’s side, panting.

“Ruth …?”

She glanced at Henry, his face orange through the haze of her fire. He looked wondering, amazed, his eyes wide. But he didn’t look afraid.

His mouth curled into a smile.

Ruth was glowing, a human fireball, her clothes turning to rags around her—and he was grinning at her.

“He’s getting reading to run,” Henry said, nodding in her father’s direction.

Edward was backing away, taking slow, fumbling steps.

Walking tall, Ruth circled him. Her bare feet caught the grass around her, setting it aflame. It grew with each step, keeping its perfect shape. Her father was trapped, the ring of fire around him sending ash and soot across his skin. 

“Listen to me: You will leave Henry and me alone. You will leave everyone with powers alone. You will close the church doors. If you don’t, I will know, and I won’t be generous or forgiving. I’ll act just like you did to me all those years. Do you understand?”

Her father was white as a sheet, watching the flames grow high around him.

“I said,
do you understand
?”

“Yes, yes! God—don’t let me burn!” He sounded panicked. It was the first time Ruth had ever seen fear on his face. Or, maybe, he had always been afraid, and this was the first time she recognized it as such.

She let the flames die. The circle extinguished at the same time as her skin—and had she been less distracted, she would have been amazed. As the fire disappeared, she realized the church members had already scattered. Her father watched her—caught somewhere between awe and terror—and then turned and ran.

She watched him flee, her power crackling inside of her. Her brand new dress hung off her in tatters, and the grass had a deep black circle burned into it.

But it was over. It was finally over.

Henry swept her up in his arms moments later, his face pressed into her hair as he touched every bit of exposed skin he could find. Compared to his frantic murmuring, Ruth felt strangely calm, controlled.

“Are you all right? There was … at the clinic, there were so many people, and they wouldn’t let me go, and I knew ….” Henry kissed her forehead, her temple, her cheek. “Oh God, I was so scared for you.”

She stiffened in his arms. “How did you escape?”

“I told them Mrs. McClure’s insulin was some derivative of the thing that gave all of you your powers, and they bought it. Or, at least, they weren’t confident enough I was lying to stop me.”

Ruth raised her arms up and cradled Henry close. “That’s one way to use your medical degree.”

Henry drew back so he could see her face. His face was wet, and she rubbed a thumb over the tracks of his tears. 

“I’ve never been so terrified in my life,” he said. “When I came running up, your father jumped me, got out a knife. He told me he’d kill you if I didn’t cooperate. I wanted to save you.”

Ruth suddenly realized the strange calm she was feeling was
peace
. She smiled. “I saved myself.” With a shrug, she added, “I saved us
both
.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you,” he murmured.

Henry picked her up, drew her toward him. She automatically hooked her ankles behind his back, holding him close. His arms felt so good around her, and even though she knew she didn’t need him to be safe, there was still no space she felt more secure than in his embrace.

“I ruined my dress,” she said, pressing the words into his neck.

His laugh was a little hysterical. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”

She tapped his shoulder until he let her down. Her feet hit the ground, and his hands found hers. “I worked on this thing for ages, and this was the first time I got to wear it, so yes, the thought occurred to me.”

Henry’s smile was watery, and it dissolved almost as soon as it appeared. “I almost lost you.”

She brought his knuckles to her mouth and dragged her lips over them, anything to remind him that he was in the here and now, with her, and that they were both safe. “You didn’t. I’m here, and I won’t leave you.”

Henry gulped and nodded, extricating himself from her. She frowned and moved to follow, but he held up his hands. “Wait, just ….”

He dropped to one knee.

Ruth gaped. “What?”

“I know it’s rotten timing, and there’s so much happening, but … when I knew you were in danger, I was so scared. You’re the most important person in the world to me. You’re my family, and I …,” Henry fished through his pocket and pulled out a slim, gold chain. Hanging from it was a delicate diamond ring. It glinted in the sunlight. “It was my father’s. I’ll get you another one, any one you want, but I thought my Granddad might like this. You and me. Together, the way family is meant to be.” He looked down and then peeked back up at her. “If you’ll have me, that is. So, Ruth, will you—”

Ruth pulled him to his feet and cut him off with a kiss. “Yes.”

“Yes?” He laughed against her lips. “I didn’t even ask the question yet.”

“Doesn’t matter. My answer is yes. Of course, yes. I love you.”

He swept her up again, kissing her all over her face. “I love you.”

The words sounded so good to hear; they felt so good to say. She couldn’t stop herself. “I love you so much.”

He opened the clasp on the chain, and the ring fell into his palm. Ruth fought back a gasp as he took her left hand and slid the ring onto her finger. It was more beautiful than she could have imagined, a delicate, pear-shaped diamond sitting on a slim band of gold. Despite everything that had happened, Ruth felt a kind of joy she didn’t know was possible. For a moment, they could only smile at each other.