Page 58 of Firestarter

I looked at Amelia, but she didn’t meet my gaze.

Dorian walked me out, but there was a new awkwardness between us.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I asked him.

“I get why you feel you have to keep doing this, but I don’t want to see you get hurt. I’m not trying to be your enemy, Margo.”

I briefly hugged him. “I know. Let’s talk later when everything cools down some more.”

But even at home, the argument dragged on. “The absolute cheek of that one,” Mam said. “What is it they say? Brass ba—“

“Neck,” Dad interrupted, rubbing his eyes. “Brass neck.”

“Whatever. Did you hear her though? Trying to pass the blame on to Margo. How dare she?”

“Mam, I made a choice. I have to live with the consequences, not just Amelia. She can’t make me do anything.”

“How do you know?” she demanded. “Don’t think I don’t notice how it works over there. All of that alpha nonsense. And then she has magic. How do you know she isn’t tricking you by using whatever power she has. Disgusting.”

“Mam, stop!” I backed away from her. “Am I disgusting then? Because I have power?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Give it a rest!” Dad yelled, surprising all of us. “I’m so sick of this. Why does everything have to be an argument? Why? Maybe it would be best for everyone if we kept away from that family altogether. We can figure out what happens after that when you get better. Because even now, you look as though you’re going to pass out.”

“But Dorian—”

“Dorian’s a nice boy,” Mam said. “But he’s in over his head. They clearly don’t listen to him. He has a bit of sense, but at the end of the day, his loyalty lies with them. That teacher should know better. And the doctor, too. Siding with them.”

“Since when are you like this?” I asked in disgust. “Since when are you so hateful?”

Mam’s expression tightened. “I think you should go to your room and take a break. Before any of us say things we regret.”

I left the room, slamming the door behind me. It was ridiculous, getting sent to my room at my age. Even worse was being pulled in two different directions. I was seventeen. How dare they think they could break Dorian and me up?

But by the time I got to my room and sat on my bed, listening to the sounds of my happy little lovebirds, I was shaking. I didn’t know what to do. I felt so hopeless, so out of control, with so many people eager to make decisions for me.

It wasn’t like I didn’t see who Amelia was. It wasn’t as though I agreed with everything she did. They didn’t understand the lure of the unknown, of that hint of power I had barely tasted. I could see how easy it was to fall, to lose myself to her magic, but it was worth the risk if it meant I could control the death that seemed to follow me around. We still didn’t know why I could sense death exactly. We didn’t know if I was calling death, carrying it around, or even sending it out into the world. If I could control it, I would know for sure.

But my fingertips were blue, and under the pink lip balm, my lips were equally dead looking. Cold was my constant companion lately, and that couldn’t be healthy. Except… if I had power like that, then I wasn’t technically human. The power couldn’t exist without a vessel to hold it, and if it was hereditary, then people lived long enough to pass it on, so maybe it couldn’t kill me. If that was true, someday I would get used to the cold and everything else.

I took out the first comic book I had bought on a trip out with Dorian. That was before I knew his truth. Would I ever know mine? The girl on the cover looked a little like me, but she was clearly a hero. Nobody ever asked her to stop what she was doing.

I kept going back and forth on the right thing to do. One minute I was scared of what was happening to me, the next I knew I had to keep pushing through it. Saving Adam’s family hadn’t exactly helped him. Still, how could I have watched any of them die? No creepy spirit guides had stopped me from saving Perdita or Adam, or even from helping a spirit move on. Did that count for anything?

Dorian texted me asking if I was all right. I warned him that my parents weren’t happy, that they were talking about us keeping our distance. He promised to handle it.

That was part of the problem. Everyone kept handling things, but I wasn’t allowed to handle anything in my own life. It all pertained to me. I was the eye of the storm. Their opinions simply spun around me, always out of reach.

Amelia was the only one who understood that I needed to know what I was capable of, but she had shown herself up to be irresponsible, reckless, and pig-headed. I needed to figure out a solution all by myself, but I had no idea where to even start.