Daredevil Riders

Flames

Wait. What?

“Come with me.” With his hand on her shoulder, he steered her to one of the small tables in the café. “Sit.”

Mentally, she fought him, but she was no longer in control of her own body. She’d turned into a puppet, and he held the strings. Fear turned her stomach, and a metallic taste filled her mouth.

The waitress approached, and her captor ordered two cups of Earl Gray tea.

Mirabel glared at him. It was the only act of defiance she could manage.

“Sorry. I know this is rude, but you’re not cooperating.” After their order arrived, he touched her arm. “When I release you, you’ll sit and drink your tea. You’ll speak in a normal tone of voice. You’ll do nothing to attract attention.”

“What in the hell did you do to me?” She meant to yell, but the question came out in the same tone of voice someone would use to discuss the weather. It was beyond infuriating. She told her body, Stand. Run. Instead, her hand reached for the cup of tea.

He placed his fingers under his nose and inhaled. “You smell like smoke and snow.”

The feral quality in his eyes gave her goose bumps.

“You’re insane.” There, at least she could say what she thought.

“It might appear that way to the uninformed.” He stirred sugar into his tea. “Now where were we?”

“You were k********g me.”

He leaned forward. One corner of his mouth quirked up in a lopsided grin. “You are entertaining. I’ve heard stories your mother was the same way.”

Why would he know anything about her mother? Was he stalking her family?

“Pay attention.” He snapped his fingers at her like she was a dog. “Soon your life will not be your own. You’re going to be sent away to a special school where the Directorate and the teachers will lecture you about your place in society. They’ll tell you what classes you can take and what jobs you can apply for. But you don’t have to follow the Directorate’s rules.”

What was he talking about? She focused all her mental energy into standing. A headache started at the base of her skull. Nothing happened. She pushed harder. Bam. Bam. Bam. It felt like someone was hitting her in the head with a hammer.

“Stop fighting me. You’ll only hurt yourself.” His gaze shifted to the door. “It appears our time is up.”

Her dad stood in the shop doorway. Face contorted in anger, he strode across the store. She may have imagined it, but she thought she heard him growl. The teacups on the table rattled.

The dark-haired man was on his feet in a flash. His casual stance was betrayed by the way his neck muscles corded against his collar. “Ian McKenna, I presume.”

Eyes locked on the man, her dad said, “Your mom is outside. Go.”

Mirabel’s body slumped in the seat as she regained control of her muscles. Pushing to her feet, she backed away from the table. “Dad, be careful. He’s some sort of hypnotist.”

Her father’s face darkened. His shoulders seemed to grow larger and stretch the seams of his shirt. “You pushed my daughter?”

“I thought she was playing dumb. She doesn’t know anything, does she?”

“What my daughter knows is none of your concern.”

The stranger smirked. “Maybe you should’ve warned her about creatures like me.”

The temperature seemed to increase as Mirabel backed out of the store. When she reached the doorway, her mom yanked her outside. “Did he hurt you? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. We should call the police. That guy’s crazy.” She pulled out her cell, but the battery was dead.

“Don’t worry. He’s no match for your father. Come on. We’re going home.”

Home sounded like heaven. She followed her mom down the sidewalk toward the fire escape. As always, her mom appeared to float up the metal stairs. Mirabel’s tennis shoes made a ringing sound as she bounded up the steps to their apartment. Once they were inside, she grabbed the phone. Her mom may not think that guy was bad news, but Mirabel had her own opinion.

“Put the phone down, Mirabel. I need help with dinner.”

“Dinner? How can you think about dinner? Dad could be in trouble.”

Lips set in a thin line, her mom said, “The police would bring more problems.”

The back door opened, and Mirabel raised the phone like a club.

Her father entered the kitchen. “That’s a poor excuse for a weapon.”

She slammed the phone down on the blue Formica countertop. “How can you joke about this? What’s going on?”

“You’re safe now.” He touched her shoulder. “I don’t think you were ever in any real danger.”

Mirabel shrugged away from his touch and pointed at the red mark where the stranger grabbed her arm. “Does this look like I wasn’t in any danger?” The delayed reaction to her situation kicked in. “He talked about how I smelled.” Her adrenaline spiked. Acid roiled in her stomach. “Normal people don’t talk about how you smell.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He frowned at the mark on her arm. “You did the right thing. You found a well-lit place with people.”

“Who was that guy? How did he know my name?”

Her dad traded a knowing glance with her mother and then cleared his throat. “Help fix dinner while we try to explain.”

Food wasn’t going to cut it. She wanted answers. Acid surged from her stomach and shot up her throat, burning her esophagus. Pressure built in her chest. She coughed. Her lungs constricted. She cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak.

Flames exploded out of her mouth and shot across the room, setting the kitchen curtains on fire.

Impossible.

She had to be hallucinating, but it seemed so real. She could smell the smoke, taste it in the back of her throat. Her brain spun in circles, searching for a logical explanation, while her mom calmly grabbed the fire extinguisher from under the sink and doused the blaze.

“I never cared for those curtains anyway.” Her dad grinned.

“What’s going on?” Mirabel croaked.

Flames shot toward her father’s head. He laughed and dodged to the side. “It’s simple. We’re dragons.”