The car rolled up and stopped. It was a silver sedan. The same silver sedan the Kissies had gathered around in front of the high school earlier that day. The same car Kenna had nearly ridden her bike into an hour ago. Probably the same car that had followed her parents out of Hilo.

  A woman’s arm threw the passenger door open and waved Kenna over. She ran for it, heart thudding, and away from the flaming demon-woman. Lava spit at her angrily. Orange and black crept after her heels. She had to get to the car before it exploded the tires. Who was in there? Someone brave. Janelle?

  “No!” the demon-woman yelled, voice exploding through the night.

  Kenna dove for the open door of the car and towards Janelle. It wasn’t her—it was a brown-haired woman in a tank top. With a gray spiral on her arm. Likely one of Janelle’s people. This would have to do.

  “Get in!” she yelled, eyes huge.

  Not that Kenna needed convincing. She dove into the passenger seat—which sizzled as her hand brushed it—and slammed the car door.

  The ground rumbled. A fresh curtain of lava shot up behind the old woman and lurched back down at them like a giant, fiery hand.

  Kenna had no time to scream. Tires squealed, and two seconds later, they were speeding back up the highway.

  Chapter Seven

  Blood dripped from Janelle’s hands.

  It coated them, dripping onto the carpet of her vacation home, staining it red forever. A scream rose up from the depths of the earth, getting louder and louder…

  Hands shook her from somewhere. “Janelle!”

  She opened her eyes and sat up off the couch. Gary swam into her vision, staring down at her. Somewhere, a toilet flushed.

  A nightmare. Again. When was she going to stop having them?

  Janelle sat up and rubbed her head. The house was quiet except for Leslie opening the bathroom door down the hall. But at least her headache was gone. The nap must’ve kicked it, even if it had only lasted a few minutes.

  Gary leaned down and kissed her, sending heat through her body and chasing away the nightmare for a moment. If only he could do that more often. “You’re not taking it well, are you?”

  Footsteps approached as Leslie started to come down the hall.

  Janelle sat up. “Of course I took that well.”

  Gary shook his head, all serious again. “No. I mean the whole Tempest deal. Your transformation and all that.”

  Janelle shook her head as Leslie came into the room, spotted Gary leaning really close to her, and made her way to the kitchen instead. The great thing about Leslie was that she always knew when privacy was needed, even if she could never stop talking. She’d have to thank her later.

  The fridge door opened, filling the kitchen with a hum. Janelle zoned in on it, letting it fill her head. Not taking this well? Yeah, the whole Tempest thing was stressful and all, but she wasn’t that scared girl she was a couple of months ago, trying to run away from everything.

  Gary sat down, his leg touching hers. “You were mumbling in your sleep like you said your dad does all the time now. I think you’re feeling guilty.”

  She stiffened and shot off the couch. Leave it to Gary to always just come straight out and say something. “Yes, I guess I am,” she said, staring out the window at the dark street. Words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them, like they were trying to escape. “I know I killed people when I transformed.”

  Silence. Gary shifted on the couch. He sure didn’t say, no, no, Janelle, you’re wrong or anything. He had good reason not to say anything, too. It was almost impossible not to kill people when you turned into a giant storm. Everyone always said that. It was just the fact of Tempest life. Gary had killed five in Florida, and he hated to think about it. Her dad, thirteen, when he changed back in the eighties. The bad part was that there was no escaping it, either: if even one Tempest refused to transform when it was their time, half the world’s weather would grind to a halt and cause horrible droughts everywhere.

  Finally, Gary spoke, staring down at the white carpet. “It would’ve been much worse if And—I mean, you-know-who—made you destroy New York City.”

  Words flew out of her again before she could even think about it. “Just tell me the truth, Gary. You’re the only one who’s ever that honest with me. It’s been two months and I have to know.” If she asked her dad, he’d tell her not to worry about it. Leslie would be too nervous to tell her. And she wasn’t asking Elise. That would earn her a lecture about the Natural Law and Tempest duty and how she wasn’t supposed to feel bad about it.

  Gary didn’t dare take his gaze off the floor. “Seven.”

  “That’s the truth? You’re not making it up?” Janelle fought to speak over the dry lump in her throat. The spacious living room suddenly seemed a lot smaller, closing in on her, suffocating her.

  “Guys!” Leslie rushed into the room, red ponytail flopping. The color drained from her face, making her freckles stand out more than usual.

  Janelle jumped. The room snapped back to its normal size as Gary rose from the couch.

  “You’re not going to believe this at all, but the fire pit just kind of…exploded.” Leslie waved her hands through the air and pointed in the direction of the back door. “Somebody stepped out of it, and—” she stopped, trembling.

  Janelle shot Gary a look. This had to be big to make Leslie stop talking.

  “Let me go check it out,” Janelle said, rushing around the kitchen table and over to the sliding door.

  She stopped short, hand on the door. This. Was. Not. Good.

  The bonfire was back, and with a vengeance. Angry flames towered into the sky and warped the air. It was as if someone had poured gas on it. A tanker’s worth of gas.

  And the old woman from earlier stood right on the other side of the glass.

  The breath escaped Janelle. It was the same old woman she’d seen out at the viewing area that day. And there was nothing grandmotherly about her.

  A pair of flaming eyes bore into hers and an orange glow wrapped around the old woman’s body. Like an aura. No, like fire. She looked like a demon that crawled right out of the flames, come to drag her into some hell. She held some kind of wooden cane in her hand, too, keeping it planted on the ground as if she needed it to stand.

  She looked like Kenna. The poofy black hair, even the oval face and the squashed-down nose…she was a relative, all right.

  “What the—” Gary started, stopping next to Janelle with his mouth hanging open.

  Words struggled to make their way out of her throat as her knees turned to rubber. “H…hello?” The woman kept glaring right into her eyes as the flames inside them twisted around each other. The bonfire towered above the beach and roared for the sky. Wow, her dad couldn’t get home soon enough. Even Elise would be a help.

  But they weren’t the leader. She was. It was her job to handle this.

  “Leslie, go out front and call everyone back,” Janelle said without taking her gaze off the woman. “My dad’s number is in your phone. Now!”

  Leslie said nothing. Footfalls thudded across the house. The front door slammed. The woman continued to glare. At last, she raised a gnarled finger and pointed. Right at her.

  “W…what do you want?” The words tumbled from her mouth. What was this woman? Some kind of demon, maybe. With the power to control fire or something.

  Janelle stiffened. Wait. She was a Tempest, and the strongest one in the world, too. That meant she wasn’t exactly helpless. And she had Gary to back her up. Still, she didn’t know what they were up against. With a tap on Gary’s sleeve, she reached out and slowly slid the back door open. Glass slid away, revealing the screen. Smoke drifted into the house along with the crackling of the bonfire.

  “Hello?” Janelle stood taller, like she was supposed to do when talking to pretty much anybody. And she had a feeling this woman wouldn’t go ratting her out on her secret. If there was a good time to throw her weight around, it was now. “I’m Janelle Duvall, Tempest High Leader, most powerful—”

  “I know what you are!” The old woman’s accented voice filled the house and made her eardrums ring. “I’ve met your kind before. Unpleasant creatures.” She paused and took a step back, leaning on her staff. “I am Pele, goddess of volcanoes.”

  The woman’s voice hung in the air. Janelle shot Gary another glance. Now his eyes were big, too. Okay. Maybe diplomacy would work better here, if this woman was right about what she was saying. And she had pretty good reasons to believe it. The flaming eyes and the fact that she’d stood in lava and survived gave her idea some support.

  But she didn’t have time to think about how weird this was. Janelle couldn’t help but eye the ocean. Tempests could control ocean water. If she could get it to hit this woman—or Pele—or shove her in with a blast of wind, she might freeze like Kenna had. Hopefully things wouldn’t get that bad, because she was far from perfect at her own powers.

  “Nice to meet you. What do you want?” Big lie, but it was best not to piss this woman off. Or goddess, if she was right.

  Her eyes blazed as she tapped the stick into the sand. The ground trembled a bit underfoot. “I want you to return my daughter.”

  Janelle opened her mouth, but Gary beat her to the question. “You mean Kenna?”

  Thunk. She nodded and tapped the stick on the ground again. Another rumble, louder this time, rose up from the ground.

  Janelle’s heart started to race. Okay. She really was Pele the Volcano Goddess. “I…I don’t know where she is. She was over here, but ran away when this glow appeared around her, and I promise we’re going to find—”

  “One of your own took her!” Thunk. She drove the staff deep into the sand, sending a spray of it at Janelle’s feet. A third rumble crept up from the depths of the earth, making the glass chandelier clink in the kitchen this time. “A Tempest convinced her to run from me. A Tempest is taking her away from me, and will use her for some terrible purpose!”

  Janelle opened her mouth to say that Kenna probably hadn’t needed any convincing to run from her, but shut it. “Look, I can call around to see who has her, and we’ll have her returned in no time. Let me get my phone.” She couldn’t do this to Kenna, but she needed to stall, too. The ocean was so far away. Maybe Gary could do something while she had Pele distracted.

  The volcano goddess pointed again. “Liar!”

  Janelle flipped open her phone—it was still off—and fumbled for the ON button. But too late. The old woman jabbed her staff into the sand for a fourth time, and this time the ground began to crack under her feet.

  “Uh, Janelle?” Gary asked, seizing her hand and pulling her back.

  She stuffed the phone back in her pocket. An awful sound filled the air: cracking. The ground started to open up, just like it had at the viewing area. A black line snaked towards the door as sand toppled into it.

  No. An eruption couldn’t happen here. It was too far from the volcano.

  That cruel voice reared up in her mind again. Oh yes, it can. This island is a volcano.

  “Gary!” Janelle’s voice came out in a hysterical half-scream. “Run for the ocean! Now!” If he transformed, he’d escape. He had to do it anyway. “I’ll hold her off!”

  Gary took a leap forward, but stopped in the doorway. “Can’t! And I’m not leaving you!”

  Smoke and fumes rose up from the crack, warping the air and blurring the old woman’s face. A pair of burning embers—her eyes—glared through it. Slowly, her face began to change. Her wrinkles smoothed out as she stood taller, leaving a young woman in her place, a young woman who looked almost exactly like Kenna. Only Kenna would never try to kill her.

  Attack. She had to attack, now, before lava spewed out of that hole. Janelle raised her hands to summon a blast of wind, anything, to shove Pele back or something. Hopefully into the water.

  This time, her power worked.

  Air screamed through the house and out the sliding door. Glass shattered and flew out towards the volcano goddess, shimmering orange in the firelight. Shards dug into her skin. It could’ve been Janelle’s imagination, but instead of blood, little flames sputtered up and died where they hit, leaving her skin untouched. She didn’t flinch even as the fumes from the crack in the ground whipped away into the night.

  “Gary, help!” Janelle let her arms slap down as she shook him, but he seemed to be in a daze. He gripped his bandaged arm and stared as if unable to believe the sight in front of him. “Don’t freeze up! Move!”

  The ground rumbled again, louder this time. The eruption was coming, and fast.

  Gary blinked, whirled around, and seized a kitchen chair. The color in his eyes started to spin with raging storm clouds. With a grunt, he raised it over his head as a roar crept into his voice. “You touch my girlfriend, you die!”

  He charged straight at the goddess, chair raised.

  No. It was a mistake, even for a Tempest. “Gary! Don’t!”

  Too late. He rushed through the doorway and out into the warping air.

  It happened fast, too fast. The chair burst into flames as Pele ripped it from his hands and tossed it to the side. The next second, Gary struggled in her grasp as she gripped the back of his shirt, the gray in his eyes spinning with fury. His bangs curled in the heat. “No!”

  “Gary!” Janelle rushed forward into the blasting heat. The beach had become an inferno. She’d have to move the ocean water to put it out. It was the last chance.

  Gary’s eyes melted back to their normal hazel, became human again. “Janelle! Get out of here!”

  She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Gary was the only sanity she had anymore. The ocean lapped at the beach behind the bonfire. Janelle had to control it, or they’d both die here.

  “Oh, no. You will not.” A grimace crept across the goddess’s face—now young—as she backed away, a wide-eyed Gary in tow. “Deliver my daughter to me safely, or you will not see your mate again.”

  “You’re not taking him!” Janelle bolted across the sand.

  Thunk. The staff came down one last time.

  Janelle stopped in her tracks. Orange exploded in front of her as fresh heat blasted into her face. A molten curtain rose up between her and Pele—and Gary—sending fiery blobs soaring over her head.

  The eruption. It was happening, and now.

  Slowly, orange began to fall towards her, rippling the night sky.

  And she, the strongest Tempest in the world, turned and ran.

  A horrible thud sounded on the beach as she bolted in through the door. A second later, the whooshing of flames followed. Smoke filled her nostrils. Janelle dared a look back. A pool of glowing reds and oranges crept in through the back door as fire crackled and spit around the frame like demon’s fingers. Beyond it, the lava fountain died down to a spurt, revealing the beach on the other side of it.

  The bonfire had gone out. Nobody stood out there now.

  Gary was gone. A pang tore through her stomach, making Janelle cry out. It couldn’t be.

  The front door flew open, framing Leslie. Her mouth fell open. “Jan—”

  Even with the fountain dying, the lava continued its march into the house. Flames towered up towards the chandelier, curling over the ceiling. Janelle ran backwards, nearly smacking into the couch of the living room. “Leslie! Go!”

  Her friend didn’t need convincing. Janelle crashed into her, sending them both tumbling out onto the front balcony. Pain surged up Janelle’s elbow as she crashed into the railing. Behind her, the lights went out, taking the cheery string of porch lights with them. Instead, now an orange glow lit the deck.

  “Call nine-one-one,” Janelle breathed as they raced down the driveway. Her mind raced at the speed of light as the row of houses met her eye. Some had lights on inside. How far would the lava go? “I have to warn people.”

  Leslie stopped in the street, pale. “I called your dad. But where’s Gary? I just saw him with you.”

  Another pang seized her as she struggled to stay on her feet. Janelle blinked away tears as the windows of her vacation home exploded behind her with a deafening boom. “He’s gone,” she said, choking back a sob. “I…I think I killed him.”

  Chapter Eight

  Kenna didn’t dare let go of the passenger seat of the gray sedan until the orange glow of the viewing area and the demon woman were about ten miles behind them, and only darkness and the yellow lines of the highway took up the view in her side mirror. Dark blobs that were trees and bushes sped by, occasionally opening up to give a view of the sparkling ocean. Kenna would’ve loved this drive under any other circumstance.

  But she didn’t care about the great scenery. The orange glow still hugged her body and a fresh burn mark smoldered on the back of the car seat where her hand had first touched it. The whole car stank like burning leather. It was all her fault.

  The woman in the driver’s seat didn’t seem to care about the burn or the glow hugging her body. Her brown hair hung down to her shoulders in a choppy mess as she stared straight ahead, biting her lip as if words were preparing to explode from her mouth. She hadn’t spoken since they’d left the viewing area. Maybe the shock was too much for her. That demon woman back there—probably her grandmother or something, if this orange glow was hereditary—had nearly buried the car in lava. Kenna wanted to scream with it all. If this lady hadn’t come to her rescue, what would’ve happened back there? The demon woman sure hadn’t seemed friendly, relative or not.

  And was it her imagination, but was this woman the same one who'd been staring at her at the viewing area?

  Her eyelids closed for a second. A pair of fiery eyes glared back from the darkness, forcing her to open them back up and stare at the road ahead.

  “Th…thanks,” Kenna managed.

  “No problem, sweetie,” the woman said, adjusting the sleeves of her shirt. The bottom of a gray spiral just like Anita Davis’s stuck out from under it. Yes, one of Janelle’s tattooed people.

  Kenna suppressed the urge to hug the woman. She was going back to Janelle. Janelle would help her work all this out. Maybe Carlos was still there, too, freaked out but worried about her. “Who are you?”

 

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