The Reaping (The Fahllen #1)(14)
Author: M. Leighton

Several emotions swept through me when I saw his face—dread, exasperation, resentment and, finally, anger. Heat spread across my cheeks and down my neck and arms. Electricity twitched in my fingertips, flickering like tiny sparks. The skin on my right shoulder blade burned like someone was holding a hot branding iron to it.

“That better not have been the boy that nearly killed you last week,” he boomed as I stalked past him into the living room. “Carson,” he squeezed between gritted teeth, his hand snaking out to grab my arm as I passed.

Fury shot through me like lightening, turning the heat of anger into a white-hot rage. I whirled around and met my father’s glittering eyes. I felt his fingers squeeze my arm as he shook it lightly. “Answer me!”

With a violent jerk, I pulled my arm from his grasp and was about to give him tit for tat when my impending explosion was interrupted by a whoosh from the kitchen. Dropping my arm, Dad ran past me. He hollered back urgently, “Carson, get the fire extinguisher!”

CHAPTER SIX

Immediately devoid of anger, I sprang into action, running to the pantry and grabbing the red canister that hung on the inside of the door. Turning with the extinguisher in hand, I was momentarily stunned by the sight of the blazing pan that sat atop the stove, the flames reaching up to lick at the curtains that hung over the window to the right.

“Carson!”

Having blanked on how to use the extinguisher, I darted across the room and handed it to Dad. I watched in stunned silence as he pulled the pin from the top of the canister, took the hose in hand, squeezed the trigger and blew white dust all over the stove and curtains.

Within seconds the flames were extinguished, leaving only a smoldering pan and singed curtains amid the smoke. Dad stepped back to stand by me; we were both breathing heavily. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and let out a relieved “whew”.

“I didn’t think I had turned that eye on yet,” he said, clearly puzzled.

I said nothing, but a mounting concern was blossoming in my gut. The phone rang, startling us both. I looked at the phone where it lay on the bar, covered by a thin layer of dry chemical.

“I’ll get it in my room,” I said. Dad just nodded his head in understanding.

Less than two minutes later, I walked back into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Dad was standing exactly where I’d left him, staring blankly at the stove. I stood beside him pulling huge gulps of soothing liquid into my mouth. I wondered what he was thinking, but I was too afraid to ask. Finally, I broke the silence.

“That was Leah. They want to eat while we’re out.”

Dad nodded again. “Guess that works out well since dinner’s…uh…”

It was my turn to nod. “Want me to bring you something back?”

“Nah. I’ll make a sandwich or something.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

We stood side by side, staring silently into the kitchen, until he Dad looked over at me. “I guess you’d better change clothes,” he said, tipping his head toward my shirt. I hadn’t noticed that the creamy material was covered in soot. I don’t know how I’d gotten so dirty, but I looked like I’d been rolling in charcoal. I was filthy. And I probably smelled like a bonfire.

“Good idea,” I said before turning away.

I knew I didn’t have time to wash my hair before Leah got there, so I stripped off my shirt and went to the closet for something clean to change into before I gave my hair a good brushing.

Sliding a black hooded sweater off its hanger, I pulled it over my head. My right shoulder blade prickled as the material grazed it. I stepped in front of the mirror on the back of my door and turned halfway around so I could see my back.

What had begun as a dark smudge at the bottom of my right shoulder blade had spread into long red and orange flames, like fingers crawling across my skin up toward the top of my shoulder and neck. It burned as if my flesh had literally been seared.

A horn sounding from the driveway startled me into action. I rushed to the bathroom, pulled the brush through my hair several times, flipped the pale locks to one side and headed for the door.

As I reached for the doorknob, I met my own sparkling green eyes in the mirror. For just a moment, I wondered what was becoming of the girl I’d seen there last week. Every day it seemed there was less and less of her staring back at me.

“Carson!”

“Coming,” I shouted back to Dad.

With one final look, I turned the knob and walked out to meet Leah.

********

“I like the pink one,” Dina said, watching as Leah turned for the fifth time in front of the mirror. She’d tried on the same sweater in four different colors. She was modeling the red one for the second time.

“But pink makes me look so…” Leah said, struggling for the right word.

“So what? I like it,” she reiterated. “I think the red is just too…”

“Too what?” Leah turned from the mirror, fists on her hips.

“Sexy,” Dina admitted.

“But I want to look sexy, Mom.”

“Leah, this is your first date and I don’t think—”

“Exactly! It’s my first date, Mom, but that doesn’t mean that it has to look like my first date,” she argued.

Feeling uncomfortable just sitting there listening to mother and daughter argue, I walked to a rack of sweaters nearby and casually flipped through the hangers, trying to tune out the conversation that was taking place several feet to my left at the dressing rooms.

A sweater caught my eye so I pulled it off the rack. I held it up to my chest, picturing in my head what it would look like on.

“Carson, you should totally try that on,” Leah called from the area just outside the fitting rooms.

“No. I’d better not.”

“But why not? That’s what makes a shopping trip so much fun.”

“I really couldn’t—“

“Oh, come on, Carson.”

“I shouldn’t—“

“Please, Carson. Pretty please, for me,” Leah cajoled.

“Come on and try it on, Carson. I bet it would look fantastic on you,” Dina chimed in.

Leah marched over to me, grabbed the sweater from my fingers, took my wrist in one hand and pulled me over to the fitting room she’d just left.

“You’re trying it on. Period,” she said, her tone brooking no argument.

At that point I figured I had little choice, so I gave in as graciously as I could. “Fine,” I said with a sigh.