Page 36 of Jack Frost
I can hardly stand still.
When he appeared on the trunk of my car, a door opened inside me. I think it was already open a crack, but it swung wider, clearing the way into a wild space of desire and delirium. I could step through it now—I could seize Jack by the collar of his frosty white shirt and haul him against me. But I'm still terrified of what he wants from me. Something he asked before—whether I want powers of my own—it nags at the back of my brain. What did he mean? What would that entail? Would I ever consider such a thing, even if it were possible?
The measuring tape vanishes, and Jack's fingertips graze my hip as he straightens. "I think I have everything I need now. I'll go place the order." Snow kicks up around him as he prepares to spiral.
"You're not staying for dinner?"
He turns back, and the snow settles onto my carpet. "Do you want me to stay?"
"Well, I—you popped up again, so I figured—"
"Emery." His fingers curve around my shoulder. "Do you want me to stay?"
"Does it matter?"
"It's the only thing that matters."
My heart jumps. "Like I said, I think we should discuss a business partnership. An arrangement where you spend time here, so your energy can replenish faster."
"I wish I knew why your presence has this effect on me," he says, and I turn hot all over at the words. He must notice my blush, because he smiles faintly. "Notthateffect. The energy thing. It's similar to what I feel when I'm around the ice wraiths. You know they used to be like me and like Kheima, the one who made me. They have some residual energy, so they can help me a little with healing, like tiny batteries. But you—you're like a generator." He approaches and lays a hand on my chest, left of center, over my heart. I'm helpless and hot, thrilled and tense, while he closes his eyes and tilts his head like he's listening. Finally he shakes his head. "I don't know. I can't figure it out. Who were your parents?"
"I never knew my dad," I tell him. "But I'm sure he was nobody special. And my mother—she's anything but magical."
"Hm. I wonder if it's justyou. Your passion, your drive. That intensity about you—" Suddenly he seems to realize where his hand is. I don't know what he sees in my face—confusion, embarrassment, craving—but he pulls away. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine." I'm not used to feeling all these emotions together. They block my internal channels, like chunks of ice clogging a waterway, and my usual reaction is to push away anyone who causes such an inconvenience. Maybe that's why so many people push me away in return. I squirm under the realization; it's more than I can dissect right now.
My own toxic behavior patterns aside—Jack's absence today showed me how much I like having him around, annoying though he can sometimes be. And somehow I find the courage to speak.
"Jack, I want you to stay for dinner. We can maybe watch something on TV, too. I like documentaries and travel shows, but other stuff is good too—crime shows, legal dramas—"
He presses cold white fingers across my mouth. "Anything you want. But first, let me put in the order for your dress. You can order us some food, okay?"
"Okay—"
But he's already gone.
I snatch my phone and hunt for an Italian place with good reviews, and I order him chilled gazpacho and chicken salad in lettuce cups, with creamy alfredo pasta for me. Then I race to the bathroom and wipe the shine of the day off my skin. Back to the bedroom again to scavenge my scanty wardrobe for something Karyl might label ascute. There's an off-the-shoulder top she bought for me, and a pair of thin, soft pants—comfy but sexy, too, because they hang low on my hips and cling to my butt.
The food arrives, but still no Jack. I place his portion carefully in the fridge and stalk the confines of the living room, chewing my thumb nail. I need to convince the ice god to get a phone.
When he finally whirls into the room, his hair is wild and his eyes stricken. "I can't stay," he gasps. "I have to go. The fire—it jumped the Continental Divide—she's back, and the humans are no match for her. I have to go help them."
"Take me with you!"
"Too dangerous." He's already disappearing again, and without thinking I fling myself forward and latch onto his waist. It's too late for him to shake me off, and I'm sucked away with him to some other part of the world.
"Thehell, Emery! I told you it was too dangerous!" Jack shakes me off, and I tumble into the scrubby bushes. The hill we landed on is dark, but the sky is alive, a dreadful ombre sweep of angry red and raw orange fading into gray and ebony. "You stay here. Stay. Do you understand? I'll come for you when I can, gods-damn you." He grips my arm and drags me to my feet, pulling me against him for a hard kiss. Then he whirls into the air, and the frosty wings appear at his back again. They don't look strong enough to carry him on their own, but a powerful current of wind and cold surges around him, buoying him upward. He sails into the night, a single frosty star in a world of wicked flame.
I want to scream after him, to tell him to be careful.
But now that he's gone, the terrible violence of what I'm witnessing overwhelms me. I sink down and crawl to the edge of the hilltop, where I can see the foothills and mountainsides swathed in fire. In some places the flames are low, muttering lines of orange creeping closer to homes and businesses; but further away, in the thick of the forest, the flames shoot high as multi-story buildings. Clouds of smoke, like massive heaping thunderheads, billow from the inferno, staining the night sky a sickening gray.
All thosetrees. All those houses full of carefully selected furniture, and treasured toys, and favorite clothes, and memories. The gardens tended with care. The playgrounds. The businesses, each one a dream, a plan, a future. The wild animals and the pets. The pain of it, the brutality—it crushes my soul.
Against the sheets of flame, figures move in the distance—firefighters like ants wielding thread-thin hoses, standing beside matchbox fire trucks. Their small streams of water are nothing to the raging blaze—nothing at all. A helicopter passes over a section of the fire, its belly releasing a flood of water. A small portion of the flames goes dark, but it's like cutting the big toe off a giant. They can't stop it.
Here and there, among the firefighters, misty blue-and-white dots appear, darting around in a frenzy. Ice wraiths. Maybe they're drawn to the fire by the memory of who they used to be, the balance they once helped to sustain. They are echoes of what they were, but at least they're here. At least they care. And when three tiny glowing entities separate from the inferno and charge a nearby gas station, the ice wraiths interfere, clashing with the fire wisps and pushing them back.
