CHAPTER TWELVE:
The Flame

"Don't be suspicious, don't be suspicious," Evette muttered to herself as she speed-walked across a rooftop, knees bent slightly and eyes trained ahead on a quickly retreating form. She'd been following him as soon as he slipped out of the Gran's Grounds back door with a highly suspicious duffel bag slung over his shoulder. It could've been just another employee getting off of work, just like the last four she'd secretly followed.

It occurred to her several times that maybe this wasn't the best way to go about this, but it was the only option she could think of. She had to find the Elementum—she just didn't know where to start.

She crouched at the edge of the rooftop and watched from behind the concrete ledge as the current suspect stopped. He casted wary glances over both shoulders before moving closer to the building on his left and knocking on the door. A second passed before it swung open and the man disappeared inside.

Evette popped up immediately and hefted herself up and over the ledge. The wind carried her safely to the ground, and as soon as her feet hit the pavement she was at the door and pressing her ear up against it. Muffled, gruff voices met her ears. She stepped back and surveyed the outside of the building, noting the it was an auto repair shop, apparently owned by the FGC. A sticker with the company's logo stuck proudly in the corner of the single blacked-out window.

Evette sat her hands on her hips and bit her lip. What now? She'd followed that guy all the way here and still had no idea what he was doing. Why would he be going straight from work to an auto shop, though? Wouldn't he want to go home like the other people she'd accidentally stalked tonight?

Evette almost wrote it off and gave up, but her eyes caught on the FGC sticker again and rooted her in place. Wasn't there a sign in front of Gran's Grounds with the same logo?

Evette took that little inkling as enough evidence to continue investigating the auto shop. With a look around to make sure no one was watching, she used the wind to propel herself up and land on the roof of the shop. To her delight, there was a small structure with a door in the corner that most likely led to a staircase to the rest of the building.

The door was fairly light and gave way with little effort on Evette's part. "They really should keep that locked," she said under her breath. The dark staircase reminded Evette of the stairs that led to the meth-lab thingy under Gran's Grounds, only more intimidating since she had no idea what was at the bottom.

She stalled at the bottom of the stairs where another door separated her and the man she followed in here. The voices were louder, much easier to distinguish.

"Wait, so none of you guys have ever fallen for it?"

"Not all of us are as stupid as you, Jerry."

Deep laughs and snorts erupted from the other side of the door. Evette creaked the door open a smidge and peeked an eye out. Through the sliver in the door, she could make out three figures.

"At least I didn't let the Elementum get away, Ben."

"Hey, I'm working on bringing her back, don't get your panties in a twist."

"Would you guys shut up and help me with this?" a new, gruff voice spoke up. Evette's eyes moved over to where the man was sitting at a table, a Thanksgiving-ham sized machine sitting in front of him with wires sticking out every which way.

Here's the thing about bombs; you don't have to be an expert to be able to identify one.

And that was definitely a bomb.

At this realization, Evette suddenly noticed the marker board behind the man with the bomb. A small-scale map of Elton was lazily drawn out in black marker, with a big red "X" over one of the precinct police stations.

These are not good guys.

And I am so glad I wore my disguise today.

Evette bounced on her heels, itching for something to do. But what? She didn't know how to disarm a bomb, and even if she did, how was she supposed to get them away from—

Evette's inner ramblings were roughly halted as she accidentally nudged the door with her elbow, making the hinges squeak in protest. All three of the men in the room ceased their talking and stilled. They looked at each other.

"What the hell was that," one of them whispered harshly.

Another one pulled a handgun out from his waistband and held it up. "Not sure. Stay here." He crept towards the left and out of Evette's line of sight. She bit her lip and crossed her fingers. Please, please don't come over here.

A beat of agonizing silence passed. She exhaled lightly, careful not to make a sound. Maybe he wasn't going to find her today, and she could still go home and make hot chocolate like she promised Lewis she would. Maybe—

A gasp caught in Evette's throat as the door suddenly ripped open and a gun pressed into her temple. The man's hand gripped her forearm hard enough to leave bruises as he wrenched her out of the stairwell.

"Who are you?"

Eyes wide, Evette blurted, "I'm you, from the future."

The man with the gun stared at her in confusion. "I'm not a teenaged girl."

"Not yet. With all these advances in technology—" She cut her rambling off as he pushed the gun harder against her temple.

"Wait a second, she sounds awfully familiar," one of the guys said. Evette glanced at him and immediately wanted to be anywhere but there. She did before, but now she definitely wanted to. Of course Ben would recognize her voice after kidnapping her.

"Is she the Elementum?" The unfamiliar man holding her by the arm asked.

"Holy shit that was easy," Ben laughed darkly, "We didn't even have to go looking for her, she came right to us."

Evette tried to wrestle out of the man's grip, but to no avail. She really didn't want to come right out and use her abilities to fight them off—she wasn't so sure if they knew what exactly she was and wasn't capable of—but if it meant escaping, she was ready to get scrappy. "I'm sorry," Evette said unapologetically, "but I've got to go." 

Ben snorted. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Honestly, anywhere but here." With that, she flicked her wrists dramatically, and a violent earthquake shook the ground below them. The man holding her didn't release her, to Evette's dismay, he only pulled her to the ground with him. The walls of the abandoned building shook and whined. Evette looked to the bomb in the center of the room and how wobbly the table it was sitting on was. Evette stopped the earthquake.

If that didn't make him let go, this ought to.

Every inch of Evette's skin lit up in flames. That was new, as was the earthquake, but it was no time to revel in her supernatural powers. The man holding her let go immediately with a manly shriek as he clutched his slightly burnt hands to his chest. The two other men clambered to their feet, one of them pulled a gun out from his waistband and the other went for the bomb. Without skipping a beat, Evette jumped to her feet and booked it to for the nearest window, scooping up the cumbersome bomb as she passed it. With an arm forming a shield over her face and the other cradling the bomb like a baby, she jumped head-first out the window, shattering the glass around her into crystals that reflected the sunlight like large snowflakes. Before she could hit the ground, the wind thrusted her up and floated her to the ground like she'd just jumped from a foot in the air, not fifteen.

The distinct click of a gun sounded behind her. Evette froze, her blood going cold. A booming, authoritative voice demanded, "Put the bomb down and put your hands where I can see them!"

Evette had never been more relieved in her life. She spun around, expecting a couple cops to back her up and storm the auto repair shop for the bad guys, but the crowd of twenty-something cops, all pointing their guns at her, was enough to wipe the relief right off her face.

The one closest to her shouted the same command at her again.

"It's not me!" Evette shouted, throwing her arm out to point back up at the second story, where she had found the bomb. Everyone flinched at the sudden movement. "The bad guys are up the—hey, what are you doing?!" Evette cried out as they took the bomb and shoved her to the ground. Her face scraped against the rough sidewalk.

"Suspect has been contained," a cop recited into his walkie.

Evette scowled.

"Um, excuse me?"

The cop wrestled handcuffs onto her hands. After several attempts to wiggle away, Evette remembered she had superpowers and stilled. Maybe the same fire tactic she used on the thugs would work on the cops.

Evette closed her eyes and focused on the heat in her veins. She opened her eyes and ignited her body into a human torch. The cop on her back jumped off without a second thought.

"Holy shit, it's made of fire," he said in an awe-filled, detached voice. Evette stood and faced the cops. Why weren't they shooting?

Evette glanced down at the cop freaking out on the ground. He wasn't on fire and didn't look seriously hurt. Evette, deciding he was fine, repositioned her beanie on her head to make sure her hair was still concealed, and used the wind to fly far, far away from the scene.

★

"RghhhaaaAAAAA!"

Ross ducked as the broken tumbler flew over his head and embedded into the wall. After he finished typing on his laptop, he glanced towards the cup's destination and cringed. He looked over his shoulder at Camille. Her hands were curled into fists at her sides, and he could've sworn he saw her eye twitch.

"I break everything I touch," she groaned. Camille abruptly left the living room and reappeared a second later with a painted canvas and Command strips. She adeptly hung the painting over the hole, concealing it from view.

"Not everything," Ross said in a feeble attempt to console her, except she did have a tendency to break things. It wasn't entirely her fault, considering her inhuman super-strength. Ross's gaze swept over the living room, taking note of the various paintings and picture frames covering the walls, wondering how many were hiding holes.

"Yes, everything." Camille flopped down on the couch beside him. "I've gone through twenty-three pencils in two days."

"Cool."

"No, it's not cool. I wish I'd just gotten a power like you. Telepathy and teleportation sound like a dream come true."

"The teleportation is fun," Ross agreed thoughtfully, "but the telepathy sucks. Other people's thoughts are constantly running around in my head, and I literally can't stop them, I can just play music super loud in my earbuds to try to drown them out."

Camille nodded, fair enough. She sure as hell wouldn't enjoy hearing everything other people thought all the time. She shifted and rested her head against her hand as she propped her elbow up on the back of the couch, facing Ross. "What am I thinking right now?"

He plucked both earbuds out of his ears and sat silently for a second before putting one back. He sent Camille a look.

"I am not going to say that out loud, Camille."

Camille smirked at the disdain written on his face, but as he went back to typing away on his laptop, her happiness faded. "What are we doing?" she muttered, mostly to herself. Ross looked up, an eyebrow raised.

"Trying to find out who Azure is . . . ?"

"No, what are we doing?" Camille motioned between the two of them. "I mean, I've never talked to you before in my life, and we've been going to school together for four years. And now we're suddenly supernatural freaks together." She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. Her eyes stared straight ahead, emotionless, before flickering sharply to the television, where images of Azure were displayed. He was out on another crime-fighting spree last night, and the local Elton news programs were eating this up.

Ross's fingers still over his keyboard. He stared at the girl before him with narrowed eyes. "I can leave if you want me to?"

"No." Camille shifted her sharp gaze from the news to Ross. He looked back at her expectantly. "We still need to find Azure."

Ross frowned, but went back to his research nonetheless. He could read her mind if he wanted to, if he really wanted to know what she was thinking, but he couldn't bring himself to care. They had bigger things to deal with, like finding Azure.

Camille laughed suddenly, interrupting his train of thought. "It's just weird, I don't normally hang out with people unless they're Maura, or someone I'm going to—"

"OKAY! Okay, spare me the details," Ross said, shuddering. Camille cut him a side-eye and laughed at the look on his face. Yeah, it's no secret that Camille was really out there and enjoyed being . . . flirtatious, with the other sex. But that didn't mean it didn't make Ross uncomfortable. She could do what she wanted, it's her life after all, but talking about it was just painfully awkward, especially since they only just started spending time together on the basis of their shared freak-powers. "It's weird for me too. I don't really hang out with anyone unless they're on the football team."

Camille nodded like she understood, but she thought, Do you even hang out with them?

Ross glared at Camille. It took her a few seconds of silence to look up at him. She blinked at him innocently. "What?"

I can hear your thoughts, remember?

Heat gathered in Camille's face. "Oh yeah, forgot. My bad."

Ross conjured up another retort in his head, but before he could telepathically relay the message to Camille, she jumped up and grasped the T.V remote, viciously pressing the volume button. Ross glanced at the television, eyes furrowed. When he saw the video footage the news was playing, his face only contorted further in confusion.

"Elton City Police Officer Rhett Becker was first on the scene as a figure in all black crashed through the third story window of an auto repair shop with a bomb clutched to their chest," the newscaster says, "But what follows next is perhaps the most haunting detail of the ordeal."

A vertical clip that looks like it was recorded on a calculator covers a portion of the screen. The camera was pointed at a building with people milling about on the street below, when suddenly the glass shattered in one of the upper windows and a blur of black clothing came hurtling out the window, down to the street. At the last second, the figure stopped in mid-air and carefully floated the last few inches to the ground. The figure looked up, flashing a bundle of mid-length blonde hair, and her face.

Unfortunately, the quality of the camera was so bad that she was completely indistinguishable.

Ross and Camille stared at the T.V in awe as they could faintly hear the police officer shout at her to put the bomb down.

"It's not me!" the blonde figure shouted, pointing at the window she came from. "The bad guys are up the—hey, what are you doing?!" The cop pushed her to the ground, and just like that, a bright light lit up on the screen—her body lit up in flames.

Ross stood up and stared at the screen, transfixed with awe and pure, unadulterated fear.

Camille stood, too, mostly because she had no idea what to do. "What the FU—"

"There's another one," Ross muttered. He spun around to face Camille. He threw his arms out, and up, and everywhere. He couldn't believe it. And, telling by the explicits Camille was thinking, she couldn't either. "There's another one!"

The news continued to play in the background of Camille and Ross's flabbergasted shouting. The brunette newscaster looked down the camera as the clip stopped and the newsroom took up the screen again.

"Elton may have its own superhero, Azure, but will he be enough to stop the bomb-bearing threat that is The Flame?"

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