Page 44 of Not Today, Satan
He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “We use fire.”
I glance around us. There aren’t torches here. Aquarum, with its multiple suns, doesn’t need them. “That’d be a great idea. If wehadany fire.”
“We have you.” Nate breaks two chunks of rotting wood off the back of the pole obscuring us from the souldiers. “And we have these. You light them with that fire thing, and we chuck ’em in the opposite direction and run like hell—pun intended this time.”
I crush my fingers into a fist. “It’s not that simple, Nate. My powers are new to me. I don’t have control of them yet. I’m more likely to setuson fire than that wood.”
“What are you talking about?” He holds up his wrist, the scar from the tracker now a white line that’s barely visible above his flesh. “You shorted out my tracker.”
“And almost burned you alive in the process.”
“But you didn’t.” He drops the wood and tugs my wrists. “Devica, we’re either going to be skewered like souvlaki or hole-punched like Swiss cheese. I’m not really a fan of either possibility. And I’m apparently kinda hungry. Nevertheless, this seems like a fire power situation to me.”
I kick at the mud with my boot. “I know, but—”
He flattens my hands on his chest, his heartbeat steady against my palms. “Would I do this if I were worried you couldn’t control it? I believe in you, Dev. It’s time for you to believe in you, too.”
“Fine.” I pick up the wood and cradle the pieces in my trembling hands. “But if I set either of us on fire, it’s your fault.”
“Noted.”
I nod toward the souldiers on the cliff. “As soon as these light, I’m going to throw them that way. Be ready to run. And stay low.”
“Got it.” He gives me a half smile. “You can do this, Devica.”
His words sink into my skin and straighten my spine. I close my eyes and focus on the broken planks, their weight in my hands, the jagged edges splintering my palms. I picture them bursting into flame as I mutter pleas to them under my breath. My shoulders sink when I open my eyes. There’s not even a hint of smoke lingering in the air.
I hurl the wood onto the ground. “I told you I couldn’t do it.”
“Yes you can.” Nate picks up the discarded planks. “‘From a little spark may burst a flame.’ Even Dante believed in you.”
I raise my eyebrows at the familiar name.Infernowas one of the first books Father brought back from Earth. He’d yelled at me when I’d stolen it for myself. Father loved books written about himself. He found them hilarious. It was the only time I heard him laugh.
“Did you just quote Dante? In Hell? To the Devil’s daughter, no less?” I cross my arms. “You know most of it is wrong, right?”
“Oh, I’m aware.” A chortle escapes Nate’s lips before his face grows serious. “But he’s not wrong here. You got this. Try again.”
I bite down on my lip and grab the boards from him with a sigh. Holding them in front of me, I push harder with my mind, imagining the flames running through my veins, starting from my heart, up my arms, and into my palms.
I focus on the warmth of Nate’s body so close to mine, the faith shimmering in his eyes, the way he refuses to look away, even as the enemy is literally at his back.
Or is the enemy in front of him? I’m no longer sure.
The way he trusts me without question. He’s so certain I’m going to help him get home. Meanwhile, I’m going to use him and hurt him more than any demon did in Lot Thirteen.
I’m the villain in this story, and he doesn’t even know it.
The wood sparks and catches with a burst, searing my palms and pressing out from my flesh. I gasp but keep a firm grip. This isn’t like my lessons or the times I set myself on fire. These flames are controlled by me, not the other way around.
“You did it,” Nate whispers. “I knew you could.”
“Nate, run. Now.” I hurl the wooden balls of flame across the bridge. They light up the sky and sink into the lake with a sizzle. The souldiers shout, and arrows sail toward the plank.
They continue shooting at nothing as I dash for the dock, curling my fingers to douse any lingering flames. A smile edges up my lips. Mr. B. would be proud.
Nate’s already in the boat by the time I reach him, undoing the rope that secures it to the dock.
The maroon water slaps against the shore, spattering my skirt, and I freeze when it penetrates through a rip in the fabric and hits my bare leg.
