Watch Me Burn: The December People, Book Two (26 page)

She listened to his phone ring on the other end, the electronic ring trilling through her brain.

“Hey,” he said.

Emmy didn’t answer right away. She listened to that “hey” with as much magic as she could muster. She hoped she could hear his thoughts through his voice. A thought like, “You should be dead.” Or maybe she could hear the surprise in this voice. Or a forced attempt to sound natural, since he knew what had happened to her family and had to pretend he didn’t. But no special insights came to her. She just heard, “Hey.”

“Emmy? Are you there?” He said her name quietly, as if he didn’t want anyone to overhear.

“Yes. I’m here.”

“You okay?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t sound okay.” Could he hear her thoughts through her single word? What did her “yes” tell him?

“I guess, no. I’m not okay,” she said. “Can I see you?”

“Sure. Where are you?”

Emmy had him pick her up at the Starbucks down the street from her ruined house. She had to wait twenty minutes, and it felt like an eternity. Her jaw tightened with fear and rage, and she didn’t know if she could open her mouth to talk when he arrived. Out of nerves, and for something to do, she went to the bathroom in the Starbucks three times while she waited. Every time, she found more ash on her. Even though she had removed most of it, she surely smelled of fire. The smell in the house must have seeped through her clothes and hair. And she had a bandage on her arm.

Emmy thought back about the burn marks on Nathan’s own arm. She saw them in a whole new light now. Who had he set on fire, when he accidentally burned himself? Did the whole family do it together? Did they set winter wizards on fire as a wholesome family activity, like mini-golf or bowling?

When Nathan’s truck pulled into the parking lot, she went out to meet him. The hot air on the black asphalt choked her, as if she were running through the fire again. The burn on her arm simmered in the painful August air.

She crawled into the passenger seat of his car, and although the air conditioning enveloped her, she felt hot enough that she might spontaneously combust.

Nathan reached for her bandaged arm. “What—,”

“Don’t touch me,” Emmy said.

He pulled away. Concern sparkled in his green eyes. Lies.
All lies.
“What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Drive, please.” Emmy said.

Nathan did as she asked.

Now, in his presence, Emmy found it easier to read between his words, as few as he had spared. His blazing energy felt more uncomfortable, as if it had become dirty with radiation. But the mere fact that he didn’t talk told Emmy what she needed to know. If he had no idea what was wrong with her, he would have pressed her until she gave in. He wouldn’t have this glaring sense of guilt, or nerves, or fear, or something, all intertwined in his usual heat.

“Can you pull over behind this building?” Emmy asked.

“Why?”

“Please? I want to show you something.”

“Okay.”

Nathan pulled around the back of a half-vacant shopping center. She had picked out this spot earlier. Unless someone specifically went back there for some reason, no one would see them. And she needed the fence.

When he stopped the truck, Emmy jumped out and walked to the fence on the edge of the woods. Nathan followed her. All too easy—because he trusted her. Or, because he was so arrogant he didn’t see her as a threat.

When they got to the fence, Emmy faced him. The look on his face was inscrutable. Well, a Mundane might consider his face easy to read. Worried. Confused. But they didn’t know how well he could wear a mask.

She held out her non-burned hand to him, and without hesitating, he took it. She had to admit this didn’t feel right. It felt like
she
was the siren. She told him what to do and he did it. He should run. He should at least resist. He may not know what she had in mind, but he had to know the jig was up. He didn’t need to wear the mask anymore.

In a swift, practiced motion, she pulled a pair of handcuffs she had swiped from the police station out of her back pocket and wrapped one half around his wrist, and the other around the steel pole of the fence.

“What the fuck?” he asked. She had not heard him curse until then, but his voice didn’t sound harsh or angry. His tone stayed kind, and pleasant. Which made her hate him all the more.

Emmy pulled the gun out of her purse and pointed it at his head.

“Oh, my god,” he said. “Emmy, what are you doing?” To Emmy’s satisfaction, at least he now sounded afraid. His green eyes went wide and he didn’t blink.

She could feel her pulse in her temples, and behind her eyes. It made her head feel hot, and the nearly one hundred and ten degree temperature didn’t help, either. The gun might ignite on its own, or melt. She felt sweat pouring from her neckline into her bra, but as an extra offense, Nathan didn’t look sweaty at all.

“Emmy,” he said evenly. “Put the gun down.”

Her head felt fuzzy. It could have been nerves, or the heat, but Emmy knew better. She had made an important mistake. She had planned a way to restrain the man, but hadn’t thought about restraining the wizard. What if he used his powers to get her to put the gun in her own mouth and pull the trigger?

She shook her head from side to side, to free herself from the sensation. She knew the action made her look more insane. But that was good. Anything to scare him. Her blonde hair fell in stringy strands around her face.

“No,” she managed to say. “I’m not putting the gun down.” She punched each word. She could barely say it. She had to tap into her strong reservoir of stubbornness, but she could fight his command.

“Emmy, please. Why are you doing this?”

“You know why.”

“I don’t.”

Emmy thought she heard it that time. The lie. Something about the “I don’t” wavered.

“Tell me what happened,” he said, a sense of command returning. “Tell me why you’re angry at me.”

Emmy found it harder to resist this time, because she wanted to spill her guts. She wanted to yell at him until she got heatstroke again.

“I know what you are,” Emmy said.

“Yeah, a summer wizard. You didn’t realize that until now?”

“I don’t hate people because of what they are, I hate people because of what they do. You’re a siren. No, that sounds too nice. You’re a killer. And a coward. And a liar.”

“Why are you saying these things? What do you think I did?” His composure faltered, and he matched her tone, shouting back at her, tugging at his handcuffs.

“I want you to say it. I want you to say one thing that’s not a lie.”

“I’m
not
lying.”

“Fine. I guess you haven’t given up the game. As long as you know you’re the only one playing it.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” He had stopped shouting, and looked scared. She didn’t like him looking at her that way—like a monster, a villain. But she shook the feeling away. She knew his sad puppy dog eyes were all part of the magic trick. The siren song.

“I’m doing this to you because you tried to execute my entire family. You tried to burn us alive. However, unfortunately for you, you underestimated my brother’s powers. He saw what was going to happen and got us out. Aside from a few minor burns, we’re absolutely fucking fine. The house is gone, but we don’t care about that. You didn’t do anything to hurt us. All you did was make us mad. And that’s not going to end well for you or your family.”

Nathan didn’t say anything at all. Despite the oppressive heat, he looked frozen. Pale, cold, and unmoving. She didn’t wait for him to spout out any more lies, she just kept going.

“You know, I underestimated you, too. You put together one impressive magic trick. You know which part floored me? When you gave my mom cancer just to distract my Dad so you could kidnap Evangeline. I mean, that’s really, really cold. And that’s coming from someone who’s supposed to be nothing but ice all the way down. Yeah, you’re a powerful wizard, but you know what? I think, in the end, it doesn’t matter. I think your brains and blood will splatter all over the dirt, just like they would if you were a Mundane. What do you think?”

“I…I’m sorry your Mom has cancer. I didn’t know that. And I didn’t know about the fire either. I’m sorry about that, too.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? That’s all you have to say?”

“You’re wrong about me. I didn’t do any of those things you’re accusing me of. And part of you knows that, so
you’re not going to shoot me
.”

“You know, you’re not as good at that mind-control thing as you think you are. I can break it.”

“I know. I’m not commanding you not to shoot me, I
trust
you won’t shoot me.”

“Why not? Isn’t that what winter wizards do? We’re hopelessly evil, remember? We need to be cleansed from the earth.”

“I don’t believe that,” he said.

Emmy laughed as coldly as she could.

“Hold a gun to my head all you want. I’m never going to confess to something I didn’t do. You’re wrong about me…but you’re not wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just not wrong. You should stay away from me. Your family should leave town.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No. I mean, yes. Whatever you want me to say. Whatever gets you away from me.” His voice had fallen flat now.

The apathy made her want to shoot him more. As natural enemies, he should at least fight her. After everything he had done, he should at least be honest. If he was the enemy, at least things would make sense.

She approached him and put the gun against his temple. He tensed up and closed his eyes. She thought at least in that moment, he feared for his life. But she had never intended to kill him. She refused to be the villain he wanted her to be. She reached into his pocket and took his phone and his keys and then turned away from him.

She got into the driver’s seat of his truck, drove back to the Starbucks, parked it, and drove back to the hotel in her own.

The air conditioner in the motel room blasted defiantly and enveloped Emmy in frigid air as she entered. Despite the wintery coolness, the room smelled of fire. No matter how many showers they had taken, or how much laundry they had done, the smell of the fire haunted them.

“Are you all right?” Mom lay alone in bed, watching the weather channel, a depressing spread of record breaking highs—each day marked with a cheerful looking sun, that was anything but. No rain. No break. No change.

The question surprised Emmy. She had left several hours ago. And she had grown accustomed to a greeting of, “Where have you been?” or some variation thereof.

“I told you, I went to Starbucks to meet a friend,” Emmy said, answering the unasked question out of habit.

“And how did it go?”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure? That’s not the face of ‘fine’. Tell me, did he admit to anything, or did he keep on lying? I’m guessing the latter.”

“What?”

“Sweetheart, you’re not as sneaky as you think you are.”

“So, you…”

“I know you’ve been sneaking around with that summer wizard.”

“How?”

“You’re not going to like the answer. But you didn’t leave me much choice.”

“
How?
”

“You wouldn’t tell the truth, so I took it for myself. I looked at some of your memories while you were sleeping.”

Emmy knew what her face might look like. Her eyebrows in a “V,” her mouth in an “O.” For once, she had no words. Most girls just had to worry about their Mom reading their diary. This was so, so, so much worse.

“I understand you’re upset,” Mom said, sitting up slowly. “But I only did it because you wouldn’t tell me anything about where you were sneaking off to. And I was worried about you. If it makes you feel better, it’s not something I do often. It’s difficult, and I find I’m better at removing darkness than finding light. I may not have seen him at all, if you hadn’t been thinking about him a lot.”

That last part made her madder. So, Mom knew how stupid she had been. How much she had liked him. How much hope and happiness she had wrapped up into a guy she barely knew, and a summer wizard at that.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you stop me?” For some reason, her words came out more sad than angry.

“Because if I told you not to see him, you would have married him just to spite me. Instead, you figured it out on your own. Besides, I don’t mean to bruise your teen ego, but I have bigger things to worry about than you having a secret boyfriend. Honestly, I was relieved to find out that was all it was.”

“He was never my boyfriend. And you should have said something. You let me do this. This is all my fault.”

“Oh honey, it is not.”

Mom seemed oddly complacent. Peaceful, but in a bad way, as if she had already given up. Emmy hated it.

“Does Dad know?”

“No. I guess I should have said you’re not sneaky enough to fool
me
.”

Emmy felt tears burning in her eyes and she fought to keep them back. She had no use for crying, but she’d tried to keep from crying ever since she left Nathan handcuffed to the fence. And she had reached her limit.

Emmy sat on the edge of the bed and Mom put her arm around her. “I’m sorry, honey.”