"Why?" Her soft voice was hoarse, apprehensive.
"Because you have to contain it, or it will consume us all." She blinked, and he saw the gleam of tears in her expressive eyes. So the fires had already claimed a life. Had it been someone close?
Her fingers clenched into a fist. "A wall," she said, and closed her eyes.
"Now, imagine yourself holding a rope of water around that wall." He was tempted to cross his fingers. His knowledge of fire-starters was limited, and he had no idea if this would actually work. The night air churned with heat, turning the lightly falling rain to steam long before it hit the ground. The smell of pine was growing stronger, as if the tree behind her were beginning to burn. If she didn't get the power under control soon, everything around them would ignite.
After a moment, she nodded minutely.
"Draw the rope back into your body. Let the water cool the fire as you draw it in."
He waited. After several long minutes, the heat began to abate. She took a deep breath, then opened her eyes and stared at him.
"It worked," she said softly. "I controlled it." He forced a smile. "So you did."
This time. She desperately needed help, though, and more importantly, training. He didn't have the knowledge or time to do either.
"I thought-" She shuddered and looked down at her hands. "I thought I'd kill everyone."
"How long has it been like this?" He reached out and touched her hand. When she didn't pull away, he gently caressed her fingers. Her skin still burned with heat. The fire may have abated, but it was still close enough to spark to life if she wasn't careful—if ^wasn't careful.
"Forever," she whispered. She shivered slightly and rubbed her arm with her free hand.
He took off his sweater and slipped it around her shoulders. Her shirt was torn near the top of her shoulder blade, the edges smeared dark with blood.
"What the hell happened?" he said abruptly.
She flinched and wouldn't meet his eyes. "Nothing." Her tone told him she was suddenly afraid. Or was it once again fear of his reaction? He frowned slightly. Her spirit might be fire, but someone had given her self-confidence a hell of a battering. Anger ran through him, and he clamped down on it, hard. His anger wouldn't help her, and right now, she was all that mattered.
He gently thumbed away a slight trace of blood from her cheek. "I need to know. It might help us find your nephew." She was back to looking at anything and everything else but him. Even though he guessed it was a reaction tied-in with whoever had given her confidence such a shaking, he wished she'd stop it.
"I was attacked by ghosts," she said after a moment. She had to mean a sylph of some kind. Ghosts, or at least those he'd come across, were generally harmless. Certainly they'd never had the capacity to physically harm anyone.
"Can you describe them to me?"
Her gaze leapt to his. "You believe me?"
There was an odd mix of yearning and loneliness in her gaze, and something twisted deep inside him. It was a look he understood only too well.
"Yes." He rose abruptly. "Stay here. I'll be back in a minute." He loped back to the inn. He heard a babble of voices around the far side of the building and guessed the guests must have gathered there. In the distance came the wail of a siren. The inn's foyer was warm, and he glanced briefly over his shoulder. He really should get her out of the wet night air, but something told him she wasn't ready to face the inn just yet.
He grabbed the small first aid kit he'd seen behind the desk and went back outside. The guests were beginning to mill out the front of the building now, and the wail of the fire engine was drawing closer. He wondered where they were coming from—they seemed to be taking a while to get there.
He placed the kit on the seat beside Maddie and got out the antiseptic cream.
"Tell me about the fire starting." He leaned close to apply the cream and tried to ignore the faint scent of roses, the heat of her body where it brushed against his—and his own sudden response.
"It happens whenever I get really afraid." She hesitated and shrugged. "It builds up to a point where I just can't control it anymore." Her fear churned around him, but it wasn't fear of what had attacked her in their room. She was still terrified of his reaction to her gifts, of what she had done in the past.
"I can remember lighting a fire when I was six," she continued softly. Tears ran across her aura, so strong it surrounded her with a faint shimmer of silver.
"It got stronger with puberty."
"As most talents do." He carefully pulled the edges of her shirt away from the wound on her shoulder. Though the cut looked red and vicious against the creaminess of her skin, it wasn't deep. The sylphs had obviously been sent to scare more than harm her. He gently applied some of the antiseptic cream, his fingers skimming across her soft skin. Lord, she smelled good... He quickly withdrew his hand and sat back down on his heels. His matter-offact tone seemed to be relaxing her, and the last thing he needed to do was something that would jeopardize that.
"Did someone get hurt?"
She nodded, still avoiding his gaze. "I don't really want to talk about this."