Touch The Fire

7 : Unleashed

" She who was hidden shall be found—when the unnatural walks the wildwood ground. "

***

Saturday arrives too fast.

I've barely slept since my family's welcome party. The tension of it, the secrets I suspect they're all holding, it's clinging to me like smoke in my lungs. Something is off, and no one's giving me answers. Not my dad. Not Justine. Not even Dylan, who reads people like they're a deck of tarot cards he's already memorized.

I've replayed that stupid question a hundred times: Do you believe in magic?

Every time I try to bring it up with Justine or Dylan, something interrupts, teachers, the bell, after school sports, studying. And trying to talk to dad about our past in this town, well. He's left one job, only to dive right into another. Council member. I think I see him less now, if that's even possible.

The only real conversation I've had with him was the scolding I got about my meltdown in the library. I managed to move everything back into place, but the c***k in the window, that couldn't be fixed fast enough. He had to tell Lucinda it was a rock that had ricocheted out of the lawnmower.

It's like the universe doesn't want me to get close to the truth.

So when Justine shows up at my door, looking like a goddess in cutoff shorts and a leather jacket, grinning like she knows something I don't, I practically sigh in relief.

"You're coming," she says by way of greeting, brushing past me into the hallway.

"I haven't even—"

"Nope," she cuts in, already dragging me toward my bedroom. "It's Saturday, the sun's setting, and there's a bonfire on the beach. No excuses."

Justine flings my closet open like she owns the place. "Okay. No florals, no collars, and for the love of all things holy, no cardigans."

I raise an eyebrow from my spot on the bed. "I don't wear cardigans."

"Good. I wouldn't let you leave the house if you did." She rifles through a few hangers, muttering under her breath. "How do you have nothing and too much at the same time?"

I pull my knees to my chest and watch her sort through my clothes with surgical precision. She's magnetic, effortless, and way too confident for someone breaking several layers of personal space etiquette.

I clear my throat. "Justine?"

She doesn't look at me. "Mm?"

There's a knot in my stomach I can't shake, and this might be the only chance I get. I've been holding onto the question for days, feeling it build with every weird glance, every not-so-subtle comment. I don't know how to ask it without sounding completely insane, but I have to try.

"I was wondering—"

"I know what you're gonna ask," she says, yanking a long sleeve black crop top off its hanger and tossing it onto my bed.

My breath catches. My heart does something stupid.

"You do?" I ask, my voice way too breathless for comfort.

She turns and grins, holding up a pair of high waisted jeans for inspection. "You wanna know if Jake's going tonight."

That knocks the air out of me. "What? No—I mean—"

"Please," she interrupts, holding the jeans up to my waist. "You've got that look. The I hate him but maybe not completely look."

I fumble for words as heat crawls up my neck. "That is not what I was gonna ask."

"Mmhmm." She's already back in my closet, flipping through a rack of jackets like this conversation didn't just upend my entire thought process.

My mind shifts to Wednesday. Basketball.

I'd already had a crap day, and of course Jake Turner was on my team, because the universe thinks it's hilarious.

He hadn't passed to me once.

So when I finally got the ball and started dribbling toward the basket, he jogged lazily over, barely trying to hide his smirk.

"Careful, Dumore," he drawled. "Don't trip over your own ego."

I froze.

That smug tone, using my last name, the way he looked at me like I didn't belong on the court, or anywhere near him.

Power surged from my chest and the ball shot out of my hand before I could think.

No grip, no aim, just rage.

It slammed into his chest hard enough to knock him back a step. The sound echoed through the gym like a gunshot. Everyone turned.

Jake caught his balance quickly, eyebrows raised, hand pressed to where the ball had hit. "Wow," he said, voice flat. "Didn't know we were playing dodgeball."

I stood there, heart pounding, cursing myself for letting the rage bubble over so easily.

Whatever I was going to ask, about the truth or dare game, about Justine's freakishly easy arm wrestling win, it's gone. Lost in the wake of Jake's name echoing in my head.

And maybe, just maybe, she planned it that way.

"Clara?" My dad's voice floats up from downstairs. "Where are you going?"

Justine beats me to it. "We're heading to the cinema's, there's a new thriller out we're dying to see."

There's a pause. Then: "Does this we involve some boys with the last names of Bradshaw, Walkman and Turner?"

"No..." I say this time.

Another pause. I know he's been meeting with their families these past few days, but the way he said their last names, my bet is that it's wise to not mention we'll be with them.

He appears at my door a moment later. I can't read his face, but his eyes are full of hesitation.

Shit.

"I was also hoping Clara could stay at mine tonight?" Justine puts her arm around my shoulder, "There's a few things I've been wanting to show her." She lies with practiced ease.

"There are a few things I need to discuss with Clara—"

Hope blooms in my chest, is he finally going to give me the time of day? Finally be transparent with me?

"I'll have her back before lunch tomorrow." Justine flashes the sweetest grin, her deep brown eyes crinkling at the sides.

His mouth tugs up into a small smile. "Alright then."

Justine squeals all while clapping her hands together. Dad just shakes his head and laughs through his nose as he heads back downstairs.

I give her a look. She shrugs. "You're welcome."

•••

The bonfire spits embers into the sky like it's trying to burn the stars.

Laughter rolls over the beach, music thumps low from someone's speaker, but I'm not really hearing any of it. Just the crash of the waves. The hiss of flame on salt air.

"Relax," Justine says beside me, slipping a drink into my hand. "You look like you're waiting for something to explode."

I force a smile. "It's that obvious?"

She gives me a once over. "You've got a don't-f**k-with-me face on."

Before I can respond, the atmosphere shifts. A sudden tightness, the kind that creeps under your skin before you even realise why.

Jake Turner.

I don't have to turn. His presence is the kind that demands notice whether you give it or not. But I turn anyway, because ignoring Jake hasn't been working for me so far.

He's standing just behind me, leather jacket pushed up to his elbows, hands stuffed in his pockets like he's already over this entire night. His eyes find mine, and for a moment, there's something unreadable there, then it hardens.

"You followed me all the way to the beach just to keep embarrassing yourself?" His voice is even, almost bored, but it cuts.

I blink. "Wow. You really know how to say hello."

He shrugs one shoulder. "Just didn't want you mistaking this for me being friendly."

Ouch.

I fold my arms, ignoring the sting. "Trust me, you're about as friendly as a punch in the face."

He lets out a dry, humorless sound that might be a laugh. "Fitting. You've already tried to throw something at my head."

I tense.

"That was an accident," I lie, expression neutral.

His mouth twitches, almost a smirk, almost, but it fades fast. "Right. I'll put the super aggressive throw, down to you being a clumsy little thing then?"

I don't say anything. Not because I don't want to, but because suddenly I'm too aware of the way he's looking at me. Like he's trying to provoke me. Trying to bring my rage to the surface.

There's something shuttered in his expression. Something colder than usual. Like he's drawing a line he doesn't want me to cross.

Jake looks away first, scanning the firelit crowd like he's already somewhere else.

Before I open my mouth to bite back, Dylan comes over with Tate in tow. They're laughing at something Tate said, but I catch the quick, subtle glances they exchange. There's a shift in their energy, alertness behind the smiles.

Something's off.

"Ah, I see our little stray has joined us!" Tate looks at me, the bonfire reflecting off his eyes.

"Seriously?" I raise a brow.

He winks as he hands out little cups, which I assume isn't filled with water. The smell confirms it is most definitely not water.

"To living every day like it's your last!" He raises his cup.

The rest of us join him, clicking the plastic and downing the burning liquid. My mouth starts to water as it hits my stomach, but I force whatever is trying to come up back down.

The bonfire burns brighter now, casting flickering shadows across the sand as the crowd thickens and the music pulses louder.

Justine grabs my hand. "Come on. You're officially too broody for a beach party."

Before I can argue, she's dragging me into the center of the crowd, where bodies sway and jump and spin under a sky full of stars. Dylan joins us effortlessly, already moving to the beat, his usual quiet smirk in place.

I hesitate for half a second, just long enough to feel the beat catch in my chest, and then I let go. The tension from earlier, from Jake, from everything I haven't been able to ask, it all blends into the rhythm.

I don't know how long we've been dancing.

Time blurs, like the waves in the distance, constant and soft and far away. The music loops through the crowd like a trance, and I move without thinking. Justine's laughter is infectious, Dylan's grin relaxed. There's almost an iridescent shimmer around them, us, the alcohol Tate handed out earlier working it's magic.

Everyone around us is smiling, moving like they're weightless. Like nothing matters except the firelight and the beat.

It feels good. Too good.

I spin again, heat rising in my cheeks, my heart syncing to the rhythm, and for a second, just a second, something clicks in the back of my mind. Like a thread being tugged.

I stop moving.

Everything's still spinning around me, the music warping slightly at the edges. I blink, trying to focus. My skin prickles. The air tastes sweet. Too sweet.

I glance around. Justine is swaying, eyes half lidded. Dylan leans against someone I don't recognize, his face a little too relaxed, like he's forgotten the sharpness behind his usual stare.

My gaze drifts across the crowd.

Everyone looks... blissed out. Mellow. Distracted.

And suddenly, I realize I can't hear the ocean anymore. Not over the music. Not over the quiet, artificial euphoria seeping into every corner of this party.

No. Not euphoria. Something else.

Something controlled.

I scan the edges of the firelight.

Tate.

He's not dancing. He's leaning against a log, half in shadow, arms crossed, next to Jake. His lips are pressed together in concentration. His gaze flicks toward the crowd, and then straight to me. Our eyes lock. The pull around me breaks.

The air rushes back in with sound, smell, pressure. I stumble a step back as the world slams into focus again.

And he's gone.

A cold breeze sweeps over me. My head spins as I stare at where Justine and Dylan were standing just seconds ago. Where they should be standing.

Panic tightens my chest as I turn in a slow circle. The bonfire crowd still moves like they're hypnotized. No one notices the sudden shift in me. No one's looking toward the forest. No one's asking where the others went.

But I am.

And my gut twists with the certainty that something's very, very wrong.

My feet are moving before I know it. Calf's burning as I push my way through the intoxicated crowd. I look to the shoreline, a few teens are stripping down to their underwear, making their way to the freezing salt water. But my attention is pulled to the edge of the forest, where I spot some dark figures.

I don't realize how far I've wandered until the music disappears entirely behind the trees.

The forest is darker here, older, heavier. It swallows the moonlight, muffles the wind. Every shadow stretches too long. Every snap of a twig makes my breath catch.

Where did they go?

One second, we were dancing beneath the stars. The next, vanished.

I step off the path, weaving between gnarled trunks and roots. The buzz under my skin hasn't stopped since the bonfire. It's louder now. More violent. Like something inside me is waking up... and panicking.

Then I see it.

At first, I think it's a broken tree.

But it moves.

It's tall, too tall. At least eight feet of jagged limbs and cracked gray skin stretched tight over bone. Its spine curves like it's never stood straight a day in its life, arms too long and jointed wrong, dragging claws behind it. Its face is sunken, lipless, eyes hollow and glowing like dying embers.

It doesn't breathe.

Doesn't growl.

Just moves.

Toward me.

My limbs won't work. My mind blanks. The buzz under my skin explodes into something sharp and wild, something that screams through me without sound.

The creature tilts its head, like it feels it too.

It steps closer.

I stumble back, trip over a root and hit the ground hard, but before I can scramble up, something slams into me from the side.

Jake.

He yanks me upright, shoving me behind him like a human shield.

"Run, Clara." His voice is deadly serious, sharp as broken glass.

But I don't move.

I can't.

Because the thing is still coming. Unstoppable. Silent.

Tate charges out of the trees like a weapon loosed from its sheath. He crashes into it with something metal, sharp, aiming clean and precise. It barely reacts. Just turns slowly, toward him.

Justine follows, dark hair wild and fists already bloodied. She slams into the thing's torso with a bone shattering punch that would've dropped a car.

Still, it stands.

Then Dylan appears, three of him. They blur around the thing, splitting its focus, confusing it. One grabs my arm.

His voice is calm. Focused. "Now, Clara. You need to—"

"W-what is that—what is happening?"

"Clara," he says firmly this time. "Run."

But I'm rooted to the spot. The thing lets out a soundless scream, no air, no voice, just pressure. It ripples through the trees and folds into my skull like a vice.

Jake flinches.

Tate stumbles.

Justine bites down on her lip hard enough to draw blood, but doesn't let go.

The air ripples around me. Not with wind, but with pressure. Power.

My hands lift before I even think about it, and I shove the air in front of me—

And the monster flies.

It slams into a tree with the force of a wrecking ball, splinters erupting on impact. It slides to the forest floor with a guttural, unnatural crunch.

Silence.

Everyone turns.

Tate freezes, mid swing. Justine's jaw drops. Even Jake spins around, eyes wide with something like disbelief, maybe even recognition.

Only Dylan stays calm. He gives me the smallest nod.

"I figured that's when it'd kick in," he mutters.

I stare at my hands, breathing hard. They're glowing faintly. Trembling. The energy buzzing beneath my skin now screams for release, wild, untamed.

"What the hell—" Jake starts, voice low.

But the creature doesn't stay down.

It screeches, a piercing, hollow shriek like metal screaming against metal, and lunges at me.

I don't have time to move.

Jake does.

He throws himself between us, just as the creature's claws swing wide.