Playing with Fire #1 ✔

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 - 𝐄𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

Trust was an issue for me, as it often is for my kind.

I found myself, similar to countless other supernatural beings, living by the rule that trust takes years to build, but seconds to break, and an eternity to repair. Too many broken friendships and crushes that went wrong taught me to limit myself to having a few close friends I could depend upon.

My close friendship group consisted of me, Wednesday Mortelle, and Almond Carwood — Al for short. The three of us were all supernatural, to differing degrees, which was why we stuck together. Wednesday was a witch — a skill she'd inherited from her mum; Al was a pixie — a mischievous nature spirit who had a bad habit of tricking people.

I, on the other hand, was only at the start of developing my abilities on the day I went to my second cousin's house for a gathering. Little did I know that when I arrived at my cousin Ashley's house, things would quickly go downhill.

In all honesty, Wednesday had told me of a premonition — she wasn't precise, but she'd insisted that I was going to meet someone new, and for me to be wary. Of course, she meant don't set anything on fire.

It was the last day of the summer holidays, and the train was baking hot as I travelled a few miles south to my second cousin, Ashley's house.

My family was a complicated, heated mess at the best of times; Ashley was my grandad's sister's granddaughter. My dad was an only child and an orphan, while my mum's sister died before she could have any kids — meaning I had no actual first cousins.

"You should go to Ashley's little party," Mum had insisted as I groaned over the text invite, making the fatal mistake of complaining. "She's the closest relation you've got, age-wise, at least. And you've not seen her since last year."

"Yeah, 'cos I kicked her cat over the wall." Unfortunately, it was true; my unpredictable abilities were to blame.

Needless to say, the number of times I'd been taunted about having anger management issues have been piling up ever since I was about five years old.

I pressed the bell on the front door and Ashely opened it immediately, breathless.

"Hey." I forced a smile, taking in her casual clothes and judging them against mine, glad to see we were wearing similar outfits — it had taken me way too long that morning to decide what to wear, and it was gratifying knowing I'd chosen the right thing: denim shorts and a cute, patterned t-shirt.

"Hey, what's up?" Ashley panted slightly, her left hand dragging a few wispy blonde flyaways out of her face.

"I'm fine... Are you okay?" I asked, noting her hurried state.

"I'm great! Just — just need to catch my breath." The thing is with Ashley, she doesn't need much prompting to get excited. I'd barely stepped through the door when she squealed in excitement, "Ember! My American pen pal is here!"

"Cool, I didn't know you had one. What's she like?" Keeping my tone measured, I tried to imagine a set of those old-fashioned scales in the middle of my head. My goal for this party was simple: attempt to socialise and keep those scales balanced.

No one needed to witness me being unhinged. Or antisocial, for that matter.

"That's the best part." Ashley grinned widely, revealing those pearly whites of hers and pulling me out of my head. "My pen pal is a he!"

"What?" My jaw dropped, but I snapped it shut again quickly. "Why is he here?"

"I want you to meet him!" Ashley ignored my question, a frequent habit of hers.