A small sound jerked him around. Maddie sat in one corner, hugging her knees and slowly rocking back and forth.
He could see her terror in the way she huddled, smell it in the confusing swirl of her aura. Yet oddly enough, he sensed it wasn't entirely fear of the dark magic that was thick and strong in the room. She was afraid of something else, something he couldn't name.
He frowned and knelt down beside her. 'Are you all right?'
A cut marred her cheek. The wound was thin but deep—like the mark left by the lash of a whip.
Something had attacked her. The lingering dark magic had to have been involved.
But were Hank and Eleanor? They had only been gone a few minutes before Maddie screamed. The spell, no matter what it was, would have taken longer than that to set up. Magic wasn't something you could rush into. It had strict rules that had to be followed, or it could lash back at the sender.
But the why and how weren't really important right now.
She gave no sign that she'd heard him, no indication she knew he was there. He touched her shoulder gently, but almost instantly jerked it away.
She burned as hot as the room. The fire wasn't the cause of the heat, he realized. She was. The other talent he'd sensed in her, the one she couldn't control, was pyrokinesis. The ability to light fire with just a thought.
'Maddie!' He grabbed her shoulder again. Heat burned into his palm as he shook her. He ignored it. He had to get her out of here. The foul taste of magic was still thick in the room and might be dangerous.
'Are you listening to me? You have to get out of here.'
'I know,' she whispered without looking up.
He frowned when she didn't move. 'Are you hurt?'
She hesitated, then shook her head. 'No. But if I move, I might lose control.'
Just how strong were her abilities if the heat in this room was under control? 'Well, you can't stay here, either.'
He leaned forward and picked her up. It felt like he was holding a furnace close to his chest, not a woman.
She tensed in his arms, and her gaze jerked up to his. Her eyes were wild and unfocused, full of heat. 'I don't want you to get burned.'.
'I'll be fine,' he said. 'Just don't let the power go.' If she did, they could all die.
She nodded and looked away. He turned and headed for the door. Heat washed around him, thick and cloying. Sweat began to run down his forehead. He ignored it, ignored the slick wetness running down his chest and arms as he held her close.
'Control it,' he whispered, and made for the stairs.
From the little he knew of pyrokinesis, he had to get her somewhere cold and quiet until her power was under control. That meant outside, in the rain.
There was a small seat under the old pine out in the front yard. He gently placed her on it, then knelt on the wet grass in front of her. Though he wanted to keep her in his arms, he sensed that touching her any more than necessary was the worst thing he could do right now.
'Imagine the heat as a wall, Maddie.' He sat back on his heels and watched her carefully.
Her gaze jerked up to his. Confusion ran through her eyes before her gaze skipped away.
'Why?' Her soft voice was hoarse, apprehensive.
'Because you have to contain it, or it will consume us all.'
She blinked, and he saw the gleam of tears in her expressive eyes. So the fires had already claimed a life. Had it been someone close?
Her fingers clenched into a fist. 'A wall,' she said, and closed her eyes.
'Now, imagine yourself holding a rope of water around that wall.' He was tempted to cross his fingers.
His knowledge of fire-starters was limited, and he had no idea if this would actually work. The night air churned with heat, turning the lightly falling rain to steam long before it hit the ground. The smell of pine was growing stronger, as if the tree behind her were beginning to burn. If she didn't get the power under control soon, everything around them would ignite.
After a moment, she nodded minutely.
'Draw the rope back into your body. Let the water cool the fire as you draw it in.'
He waited. After several long minutes, the heat began to abate. She took a deep breath, then opened her eyes and stared at him.
'It worked,' she said softly. 'I controlled it.'
He forced a smile. 'So you did.'
'I thought—' She shuddered and looked down at her hands. 'I thought I'd kill everyone.'
'How long has it been like this?' He reached out and touched her hand. When she didn't pull away, he gently caressed her fingers. Her skin still burned with heat. The fire may have abated, but it was still close enough to spark to life if she wasn't careful—if he wasn't careful.
'Forever,' she whispered. She shivered slightly and rubbed her arm with her free hand.
He took off his sweater and slipped it around her shoulders. Her shirt was torn near the top of her shoulder blade, the edges smeared dark with blood.
'What the hell happened?' he said abruptly.
She flinched and wouldn't meet his eyes. 'Nothing.'
Her tone told him she was suddenly afraid. Or was it once again fear of his reaction? He frowned slightly. Her spirit might be fire, but someone had given her self-confidence a hell of a battering. Anger ran through him, and he clamped down on it, hard. His anger wouldn't help her, and right now, she was all that mattered.
He gently thumbed away a slight trace of blood from her cheek. 'I need to know. It might help us find your nephew.'
She was back to looking at anything and everything else but him. Even though he guessed it was a reaction tied-in with whoever had given her confidence such a shaking, he wished she'd stop it.
'I was attacked by ghosts,' she said after a moment.
She had to mean a sylph of some kind. Ghosts, or at least those he'd come across, were generally harmless. Certainly they'd never had the capacity to physically harm anyone.
'Can you describe them to me?'
Her gaze leapt to his. 'You believe me?'
There was an odd mix of yearning and loneliness in her gaze, and something twisted deep inside him. It was a look he understood only too well.
'Yes.' He rose abruptly. 'Stay here. I'll be back in a minute.'
He loped back to the inn. He heard a babble of voices around the far side of the building and guessed the guests must have gathered there. In the distance came the wail of a siren. The inn's foyer was warm, and he glanced briefly over his shoulder. He really should get her out of the wet night air, but something told him she wasn't ready to face the inn just yet.
He grabbed the small first aid kit he'd seen behind the desk and went back outside. The guests were beginning to mill out the front of the building now, and the wail of the fire engine was drawing closer. He wondered where they were coming from—they seemed to be taking a while to get there.
He placed the kit on the seat beside Maddie and got out the antiseptic cream.
'Tell me about the fire starting.' He leaned close to apply the cream and tried to ignore the faint scent of roses, the heat of her body where it brushed against his—and his own sudden response.
'It happens whenever I get really afraid.' She hesitated and shrugged. 'It builds up to a point where I just can't control it anymore.'
Her fear churned around him, but it wasn't fear of what had attacked her in their room. She was still terrified of his reaction to her gifts, of what she had done in the past.
'I can remember lighting a fire when I was six,' she continued softly. Tears ran across her aura, so strong it surrounded her with a faint shimmer of silver. 'It got stronger with puberty.'
