The Reaping (The Fahllen #1)(19)
Author: M. Leighton

Then, to my utter devastation, they began to laugh. I felt the sting of humiliation burn in my cheeks as tears welled in my eyes. I choked back a sob, my mind racing through my options. As I stared back at my mockers, I realized with a sinking heart that I had only two choices: swim or stay.

Certain I was overlooking a better option, I sat down on the bank to think.

Maybe Leah’s still there and she’ll come get me when she finds out, I thought. So I waited. And I waited.

That hope kept me occupied for what seemed like an eternity. Then, when it finally became clear that Leah wasn’t going to rescue me, I revisited my options. It seemed there was only one truly viable option. I was going to have to swim across the lake.

I walked to the water’s edge and dipped my fingers in to test the temperature. It was freezing. With a growl, I turned back to the shore, silently cursing Stephen, berating myself for not seeing his cruel streak earlier. Then I thought of the laughter I got from my schoolmates, laughter instead of help, and my anger escalated. I paced the shore, back and forth, seething.

Walking back to the water’s edge, I stared into the shimmering black pool, fury simmering in my blood. I looked once more across the water. It appeared that my increased movement had gathered a crowd. They were lining up along the shore, whooping and shouting words I couldn’t hear, waiting to see what I’d do. They pointed and gesticulated, pumping their fists into the air, all the while Stephen stood near the dock, his arrogant posture daring me to make my move.

Spurred by pride and numbed by anger, I dove in without hesitation. The cold water hit my muscles like an electric shock, which only served to further enrage me. Kicking out with my legs, I pushed my sluggish arms ahead until they began to cooperate.

I swam feverishly, indignation burning in my stomach like a lump of hot coal. I was determined that he would not get the best of me. None of them would.

The closer I got, the louder their laughter and chants became.

They shouted, “Loser! Loser! Loser!”

“Look, Fitchco, she’s swimming all the way back over here to get to you,” I heard one guy say.

“Are you that good in bed, Fitchco?”

“I’ve heard of ‘rode hard and put away wet’, but man!”

“Hey Porter, did you need a cold shower?”

“She got too hot for Fitchco,” one girl mocked.

On and on they taunted until my rage was a blinding red haze behind my eyes. It pounded in my head like a ferocious drum. It blazed in my chest like a wildfire. Every nerve in my body felt alive with it.

When I reached shallow water, I put my feet down and walked slowly toward the shore. I felt no chill, no wetness, only white-hot anger. The onlookers laughed and pointed and continued their taunts. Stephen had moved out onto the dock where he was standing with his legs spread and his arms crossed over his chest.

My eyes met his and I stopped where I was, thigh deep in the water. Defiantly, he held my gaze. Then, as I watched, the corners of his mouth pulled up into a smug smile.

A low hum sounded in my ears and my right shoulder blade began to burn. Heat spread across my skin, down my arms to my fingertips. They tingled and trembled in response.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the flames of the tiki torches rise, snapping and crackling higher into the clear, velvety sky.

Stephen took three steps forward, bringing him closer to where I stood in the water. He squatted down. “Guess you’ll think twice before you throw milk in someone’s face next time.”

My eyes blazed into Stephen’s, but I made no comment. The water around my legs bubbled and churned as the hum in my ears grew louder and louder. I turned my attention toward the crowd at the shore.

With an eerie whoosh, the fire in the pit exploded, sending sparks out into the clearing. Tiny orange flames rose quickly in the dry grass, skittering along the ground in every direction. Tongues of yellow flame rose from the fire pit, licking at the tree benches that hung overhead. Within seconds, they were ablaze.

Leaves fell, some catching fire in midair and drifting to the ground. Dead limbs popped and snapped in the heat as they began to give way.

Above the hum in my ears, I heard laughter turn to screams as the curtains around the main cabana burst into flames. Partiers scrambled to get away from the fire, some running toward their cars, others running toward the water. I watched as a few stragglers disappeared into the woods, seeking shelter deep in the forest.

I heard Stephen calling my name. Over and over, he called. I ignored him, watching instead the scene on the shore unfold in fiery detail.

And then I saw him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Standing at the back of the clearing, dressed entirely in black and nearly impossible to see, was the stranger from my dream. Again.

His eyes were on me, an angry expression on his face, much like the one he wore in my dream. He shook his dark head, one long piece that had escaped its bonds waving in front of his face. His disapproval was so poignant, it seemed to reach across the span of grass and water between us and thicken the air around me. I watched as he closed his eyes and tipped his face toward the sky. He stood that way for several seconds, unmoving.

I was captivated, unable to look away. Again, I felt as if something was pulling me toward him, like gravity. I steadied my stance, digging in with my feet and willing my legs not to move.

Something tapped the top of my head. I looked up into the crystal clear sky just as a drop of wetness splattered against my forehead. Then another. And another. With its midnight color and twinkling stars, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, yet I felt more rain drops sprinkling my face. Then, as if an invisible storm cloud hovered overhead, the heavens opened up and it began to pour.

Like a bucket of cold water, I realized at that moment that I had caused the fires. Somehow, some way, I had taken the few flames scattered around the clearing and I’d caused them to rage beyond control, to spread. And terrify. And destroy.

Out of control, a voice sounded in my head.

I closed my eyes against the rain and my disturbing thoughts. Purposely, like I’d done with so many other things of late, I pushed it out of my mind. I was suddenly overwhelmed, unable to cope.

My throat burned with unimaginable thirst. I opened my mouth to the rain, craving even the tiniest bit of moisture. The fat drops were like drops of honey to my parched tongue.

Finally I opened my eyes and lowered my chin to look back at the stranger. But he was gone. I searched the remaining crowd, now scrambling to get out of the deluge, until I found him. He was walking, slowly, toward the dwindling fire in the pit, his eyes fixed on me, hard and unwavering. My breath quickened.