The Reaping - By M. Leighton Page 0,29

in someone’s face next time.”

My eyes blazed into Stephen’s, but I made no comment. The water around my legs bubbled and churned as the hum in my ears grew louder and louder. I turned my attention toward the crowd at the shore.

With an eerie whoosh, the fire in the pit exploded, sending sparks out into the clearing. Tiny orange flames rose quickly in the dry grass, skittering along the ground in every direction. Tongues of yellow flame rose from the fire pit, licking at the tree benches that hung overhead. Within seconds, they were ablaze.

Leaves fell, some catching fire in midair and drifting to the ground. Dead limbs popped and snapped in the heat as they began to give way.

Above the hum in my ears, I heard laughter turn to screams as the curtains around the main cabana burst into flames. Partiers scrambled to get away from the fire, some running toward their cars, others running toward the water. I watched as a few stragglers disappeared into the woods, seeking shelter deep in the forest.

I heard Stephen calling my name. Over and over, he called. I ignored him, watching instead the scene on the shore unfold in fiery detail.

And then I saw him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Standing at the back of the clearing, dressed entirely in black and nearly impossible to see, was the stranger from my dream. Again.

His eyes were on me, an angry expression on his face, much like the one he wore in my dream. He shook his dark head, one long piece that had escaped its bonds waving in front of his face. His disapproval was so poignant, it seemed to reach across the span of grass and water between us and thicken the air around me. I watched as he closed his eyes and tipped his face toward the sky. He stood that way for several seconds, unmoving.

I was captivated, unable to look away. Again, I felt as if something was pulling me toward him, like gravity. I steadied my stance, digging in with my feet and willing my legs not to move.

Something tapped the top of my head. I looked up into the crystal clear sky just as a drop of wetness splattered against my forehead. Then another. And another. With its midnight color and twinkling stars, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, yet I felt more rain drops sprinkling my face. Then, as if an invisible storm cloud hovered overhead, the heavens opened up and it began to pour.

Like a bucket of cold water, I realized at that moment that I had caused the fires. Somehow, some way, I had taken the few flames scattered around the clearing and I’d caused them to rage beyond control, to spread. And terrify. And destroy.

Out of control, a voice sounded in my head.

I closed my eyes against the rain and my disturbing thoughts. Purposely, like I’d done with so many other things of late, I pushed it out of my mind. I was suddenly overwhelmed, unable to cope.

My throat burned with unimaginable thirst. I opened my mouth to the rain, craving even the tiniest bit of moisture. The fat drops were like drops of honey to my parched tongue.

Finally I opened my eyes and lowered my chin to look back at the stranger. But he was gone. I searched the remaining crowd, now scrambling to get out of the deluge, until I found him. He was walking, slowly, toward the dwindling fire in the pit, his eyes fixed on me, hard and unwavering. My breath quickened.

Steadily, he made his way toward me, getting closer and closer, until he was at the water’s edge. He stopped several feet from where I stood and, without a word, held out his hand. Again, I felt the magnetism of him.

Trapped in his silvery stare, I moved forward, my feet propelling me of their own accord. I stopped, only inches from him.

“Who are you?”

“The person who’s saving you,” he growled, his voice a deep, velvety surprise. It resonated deep in my chest, tickling my senses and making them hum like a tuning fork.

“Fr-from what?”

“From you,” he responded cryptically.

So quickly it startled me, his hand struck out and he grabbed my wrist. His fingers were like steel bands clamped around my bones. Turning, he began to walk away from the water, pulling me along behind him. It never occurred to me to resist; I didn’t even want to.

We walked up around the fire pit, past the cabanas toward the back of the clearing where

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