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Memories of his little sister burning to death in a house fire infiltrated his mind. Drowned out the voices of his friends.
MJ was screaming in his head. Their house was burning. Ashes were jammed up under his nails. The hair had been singed off his face, his head. There was smoke—so much smoke.
He pulled off his jacket and threw it to the sidewalk. He was sweating bullets and he couldn’t breathe. The fire kept spreading, not burning but spreading. Taking off his jacket had done nothing, and the fire was traveling up his arm and to his shoulder, heading right for his face, just like years ago—
And then Blue was there, grabbing onto his arm with small hands, not flinching from the heat. “I can put it out.” She attempted to hold his wild gaze with her own, her hands gripping his arm as tightly as she could, stopping him from pulling away. “Max. Max, it’s okay. It’s okay. Max! I can put out the fire.”
“Do it, do it!” Max begged, resisting the urge to wave his arm through the air again. “Please, Blue, I fucking hate fire. Please.”
“It’s okay.” Blue held onto his arm and closed her eyes. “It will be okay.” That was the last word he was able to understand.
Because it was Ilevyn that floated off her lips now. Ilevyn that echoed down the street.
Max watched her, desperate for distraction.
Soon there was water rippling from under her palms. It traveled over his arm, moving like a river current. The scent of fresh mountain water flavored with cool pine flooded the area. The temperature of the water was icy, as if it were glacier-fed. Max was still gasping through flared nostrils, his heart beating so hard it hurt. But the temperature was soothing, and the sight of the water kept him from pulling away.
The water traveled up and up, putting out the flames with its cool touch. It moved in a pattern that mimicked ocean waves, the sight of it extinguishing the fear that had rooted itself in Max’s mind. His heart.
Several minutes later, the fire was out, every trace of it gone. The last of Blue’s water magic disappeared into her palms, taking every last effect with it. Max’s shirt sleeve wasn’t even wet.
With the fire now out, and Blue stepping back to give him space, Dallas rushed up to him. “Maximus?” Her eyes were filled with worry, and her hands hovered in the air between them, as if wanting to reach for him, but not wanting to upset him. “Max, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He managed to slow his breathing. “I’m okay.” He faced Blue, wanting to thank her.
But Blue was staring at his wallet that was lying near his phone and keys on the sidewalk, all of them having fallen out of his pockets when he’d thrown his jacket. The contents of his wallet had spilled, banknotes fluttering in a breeze, coins lying on the asphalt.
There was a photograph there, too. The photograph of his sister, the one he’d kept in his wallet since the day she’d died.
Blue bent and carefully picked it up, pinching the bottom-left corner between her thumb and forefinger.
“That’s Maya,” Max said, still catching his breath. It was a school photograph. Maya was smiling at the camera, her hair a mass of red curls framing her heart-shaped face. “My sister.”
Blue straightened from her bent position, her brow creased. “Scarlet,” she said, pointing at the image.
Now, it was Max’s turn to look confused.
Blue came closer. She held the photograph up beside his head, eyes flicking between his features and the image of his sister. The photograph fluttered in her grip as a breeze tore through the area, carrying with it a medley of smells, the strongest of which were blood and metal.
Blue said, “This is Scarlet.”
“Her name was Maya,” Max said. He glanced at Dallas, who looked just as confused as he felt. Behind them, Dominic exchanged glances with Sabrine and Cyra. Max added, “I called her MJ.”
Blue shook her head. “Scarlet.”
“I don’t understand.”
She pressed a hand over his heart, the frantic beat thumping into her palm. “Inferno,” she whispered. A soft smile spread across her face, and her eyes filled with understanding. There were tears gleaming there, but Max couldn’t tell if they were tears of happiness or sadness. Max’s whole world shook under his feet as Blue said, “I know your sister, Max. I know her as Scarlet.”
Know. Not knew.
Maya was alive?
MJ was alive.
—
The glass of the car window was bitter cold against the skin of Loren’s forehead. Frost crackled across its surface, biting deep into her bone, but she welcomed the feeling. The temperature dulled the hot throbbing in her skull and kept her eyelids from drooping shut.
