Child of Fire

“Start the van.”

“Why weren’t my hands damaged by the flames? I don’t have tattoos over my fingers. Why wasn’t I hurt like Douglas?”

She didn’t answer.

“What was that wave I felt? I know you felt it, too. It was like something pushed against my mind.” The words coming out of my mouth sounded ridiculous, but Annalise had just seen me crying like a baby. It’s not like I had any pride left. “And I felt this twinge on my chest-“

“Start the van,” she interrupted.

I did. Once we hit the road, Annalise took a cell phone from the glove compartment. She hit speed dial. After a few seconds, she said: “It’s Annalise.” She told the person at the other end of the line Douglas’s name, address, and license number. “Check him out,” she said. “And I’m still waiting for a current report.” She snapped the phone shut without waiting for a response.

At least I wasn’t the only one she was rude to.

I focused on the road. The long, slow descent into an overcast northwest night was well under way. I turned on the headlights just in time to light up a sign that said HAMMER BAY 22 MILES. This time, Annalise didn’t protest. Aside from the rumble of the van, it was quiet. Suddenly, I didn’t like the quiet.

“Who did you call?” She didn’t answer. “Your mom?”

She shot a deadly look at me. Oops. Sore spot.

“Why didn’t you kill Douglas?” I asked. “Isn’t that our job? To kill people who have magic?”

Her response was irritated and defensive. “The Bentons didn’t have magic. Were they carrying a spell book? Had they cast a spell on themselves? Were they hiding a predator?”

“Guess not.”

“Someone cast a spell on them. That’s who we want. Those people were no threat. They’re victims.”

I didn’t say, That’s what I thought, too. I didn’t think the word meant the same thing to her as it did to me.

We were silent for a couple of minutes. I kept seeing the boy’s face as the flames erupted around it. I kept hearing him say it didn’t hurt. I needed to keep talking, or I was going to start weeping again.

“Why are we going to Hammer Bay?” I asked. “Not for Douglas. What’s going on there?” She didn’t answer again. “Come on,” I persisted. “We’re supposed to be doing this job and I don’t know anything about it. Tell me what’s going on. Or don’t you know? Flames that don’t hurt. Boys that turn into maggots. People who forget their dead kids. Something that pushed against our minds.” She was silent. “Aren’t you going to explain any of this?”

“No reason to.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll be dead very, very soon.”

We drove the rest of the way in silence.

We passed over the crest of a hill, and the Pacific Ocean suddenly appeared below us. Then I saw the town of Hammer Bay. We drove down the hill, straight toward the heart of it.

CHAPTER TWO

Annalise wanted to visit Acorn Road immediately. Rather than drive aimlessly around reading street signs, I insisted we fill the tank and ask directions. The middle-aged clerk behind the counter tried to help, but when he told me to take a right turn where the bowling alley used to be, I snatched a map off the display rack and added it to our bill.

As I filled the tank, I noticed a young mother pull in next to us, with a little girl and a little boy in the front seat beside her. Her car was full of groceries. “For God’s sake,” she said, exasperated. “Sit still for five minutes! Please? Five minutes?” I finished refueling, trying not to look at the kids. Every time I did I imagined them crowned with flames.

The streets were sprinkled with potholes and dark from burned-out streetlights. We passed a lot of battered, rundown pickups and rattletrap station wagons.

We drove by three houses having their roofs repaired and two that were being landscaped. The town looked like it had just started to pull itself out of a long decline.

It turned out that Annalise was not good with maps. She sent me in the wrong direction twice. We had a lovely but useless tour of Hammer Bay’s downtown. We drove past antique shops and small, family-owned hardware stores. There was a sign above a storefront that read THE MALLET. The newspaper box at the curb had the same name across the front.

We drove uphill. The waterfront road was on the top of a cliff that grew higher the farther south we went. There were several restaurants: pizza, diner, Mexican, Italian, Chinese, brew pub, and a couple of high-end places that had prime cliffside locations. Sadly, the sports bar was the only place that showed signs of life. A glance through the window at the big screen inside was all I needed to see that the Mariners game was on.

I had the sudden urge to pull over, but I ignored it. Baseball wasn’t part of my life anymore, and it hadn’t been for a long time. Just thinking about it reminded me of friends I’d lost and times when life seemed much simpler.

Maybe Annalise was right. Maybe I was being maudlin. What the hell, I was going to die soon, wasn’t I? I had a right.

By this time my hunger had returned with a vengeance. I slowed as we passed a Thai restaurant.

“Are you buying dinner?” I asked. I didn’t have any money. I didn’t even have a change of underwear or a