I turned on the car and shifted into reverse. We had only made it as far as the parking lot, and I knew without a word that it was time to drive Lena home. Boo kept his eyes closed the whole way.
We took an old blanket back to Greenbrier and curled up near Genevieve’s grave, on a tiny patch of grass next to the hearthstone and the crumbling rock wall. The blackened trees and meadows surrounded us on every side, tufts of green only beginning to push through the hard dirt. Even now it was still our spot, the place where we had first talked after Lena shattered the window in English class with a look—and her Caster powers. Aunt Del couldn’t stand to see the burnt cemetery and ruined gardens anymore, but Lena didn’t mind. This was the last place she had seen Macon, and that made it safe. Somehow, looking at the wreckage from the fire was familiar, even reassuring. It had come and taken everything in its path, and then it was gone. You didn’t have to wonder what else was coming or when it would get here.
The grass was wet and green, and I wrapped the blanket around us. “Come closer, you’re freezing.” She smiled without looking at me.
“Since when do I need a reason to come closer?” She settled back into my shoulder and we sat in silence, our bodies warming each other and our fingers braided together, the shock moving up my arm. It was always that way when we touched—a gentle jolt of electricity that intensified with our every touch. A reminder Casters and Mortals couldn’t be together. Not without the Mortal ending up dead.
I looked up at the twisted black branches and the bleak sky. I thought about the first day I followed Lena to this garden, the way I’d found her crying in the tall grass. We had watched the gray clouds disappear from an otherwise blue sky, clouds she moved just by thinking about them. The blue sky—that’s what I was to her. She was Hurricane Lena, and I was regular old Ethan Wate. I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like without her.
“Look.” Lena climbed over me and reached up into the crumbling black branches.
A perfect yellow lemon, the only one in the garden, surrounded by ash. Lena pulled it loose, and black flakes flew into the air. The yellow peel gleamed in her hand, and she let herself fall back into my arms. “Look at that. Not everything burned.”
“It’ll all grow back, L.”
“I know.” She didn’t sound convinced, turning the lemon over and over in her hands.
“This time next year, none of this will be black.” She looked up at the branches and the sky above our heads, and I kissed her on her forehead, her nose, the perfect crescent-shaped birthmark on her cheekbone, as she tilted up toward me. “Everything will be green. Even these trees will grow again.?
? As we pushed our feet against each other, kicking off our shoes, I could feel a familiar prick of electricity every time our bare skin met. We were so close, her curls were falling into my face. I blew, and they scattered.
I was caught in her drag, struck by the current that bound us together and kept us apart. I leaned in to kiss her mouth, and she held the lemon in front of my nose, teasing. “Smell.”
“Smells like you.” Like lemons and rosemary, the scent that had drawn me to Lena when we first met.
She sniffed it, making a face. “Sour, like me.”
“You don’t taste sour to me.” I pulled her closer, until our hair was full of ash and grass, and the bitter lemon was lost somewhere beneath our feet at the bottom of the blanket. The heat was on my skin, like fire. Even though all I could feel was a biting cold whenever I held her hand lately, when we kissed—really kissed—there was nothing but heat. I loved her, atom by atom, one burning cell at a time. We kissed until my heart began skipping beats, and the edges of what I could see and feel and hear began to fade into darkness.…
Lena pushed me away, for my own good, and we lay in the grass as I tried to catch my breath.
Are you okay?
I’m—I’m good.
I wasn’t, but I didn’t say anything. I thought I smelled something burning and realized it was the blanket. It was smoldering from underneath, where it was touching the ground.
Lena pushed herself up and pulled back the blanket. The grass beneath us was charred and trampled. “Ethan. Look at the grass.”
“What about it?” I was still trying to catch my breath, but I was trying not to show it. Since Lena’s birthday, things had only gotten worse, physically. I couldn’t stop touching her, though sometimes I couldn’t stand the pain of that touch.
“It’s burnt now, too.”
“That’s weird.”
She looked at me evenly, her eyes strangely dark and bright at the same time. She tossed the grass. “It was me.”
“You are pretty hot.”
“You can’t be joking right now. It’s getting worse.” We sat next to each other, looking out at what was left of Greenbrier. But we weren’t really looking at Greenbrier. We were looking at the power of the other fire. “Just like my mom.” She sounded bitter.
Fire was the trademark of a Cataclyst, and Sarafine’s fire had burnt every inch of these fields the night of Lena’s birthday. Now Lena was starting fires unintentionally. My stomach tightened.
“The grass will grow back, too.”
“What if I don’t want it to?” she said softly, strangely, as she let another handful of charred grass fall through her fingers.
“What?”