Fire Cursed: Fire Cursed, #1

FIRE CURSED

Lucifer’s daughter rises.

Faith Kennedy’s quiet life off the grid ends when her mother dies of cancer. Before her mother succumbs to the disease, she tells Faith who her father is.

The revelation terrifies Faith more than the thought of the state foster care system.

When Tom and Bridget Ryan step into the state home for girls, the course of Faith’s life changes yet again. With a new, less frightening future offered, Faith jumps at the chance to live in the light despite her newly found talents.

However, word that the devil’s daughter lives brings out dark supernatural entities, and each and every one of them either wants to control her or kill her.

Fire Cursed Chapter 1

THE ONLY THING WORSE than holding my dying mother’s hand was her whispered confession just before she took her last breath.

I stared at her, dumbstruck with horror.

She’d chosen this moment to tell me her darkest secret? Her breath wheezed, and she nodded, her gaze lucid enough to make me tremble. As if losing her wasn’t devastating enough.

My knees gave out, and I tumbled into the chair next to the hospital bed. After all these years, she’d finally told me who my father was, and it was enough to strike fear in my soul.

Lucifer.

The Lucifer.

Not some arbitrary fool she’d met in a bar with the same name.

My father was the devil himself. The fallen. The archangel, Lucifer.

Nurses surged into the room and peeled me away from my mother. I hadn’t even heard the monitor flatline. Annie, one of the junior staff members, led me out to a seat in the hall.

I stared at the floor tile pattern as the chaos gave way to silence and a lingering stench of antiseptic and Death.

THE FUNERAL HOME WAS just as quiet as the hospital had been. My mother didn’t have many friends. I guess when you live off the grid for so many years, that’s what happens, but it still struck me as odd and sad at the same time.

I glanced at the photos I had propped on the receiving table. Hollie Kennedy had been a stunning woman before cancer ruined her beauty and her mind. The paper on the counter next to the picture ruffled as the door opened, reminding me of the whopping hospital bill that I was responsible for. I didn’t think I’d ever be out of debt due to my mother’s death.

I glanced up at the door, and the woman from the state stood waiting to take me to a group home in Bangor. There was no one else, and because I was only sixteen, the state would not let me go back home. My mother had left no will, no provisions, and apparently owned nothing, not even the cottage where she’d raised me, tutored me, and taught me control.

There was a reason my mother lived off the grid.

So, I lingered. The thought of mixing with society left me cold to the bone.

FAITH, IT IS TIME to go, Mrs. White, the mortuary assistant, said.

She gently took my elbow in her hand to help me to my feet. I pulled out of her grip and crossed to the table, taking the backpack that had the sum of my belongings packed inside. I grabbed the frame and maneuvered it into the front pocket, and hesitated with the zipper between my fingers.

I stared at the hospital bill, gritting my teeth. Crumpling it, I stuffed it into the mesh holder meant for a water bottle and then hauled the pack over my shoulder.

I turned to Mrs. White. What will happen to my mother’s ashes?

You can pick up her ashes tomorrow, or you we can mail them to wherever you are staying, she said.

Mrs. White had let me pick out a simple urn for my mother’s ashes, even though I had planned to dump them in the ocean. That was what my mother had asked me to do, but I couldn’t bring myself to transport her remains in a cardboard box. My mother had made me promise her I would find my way to the Atlantic Ocean. She wanted her ashes scattered in the sea, so she could travel anywhere she wanted in the afterlife.

It was a silly thought, but one I was compelled to honor.

Mrs. White squeezed my hand, and I tried to smile, but I wasn’t sure I pulled it off. My heart thundered in my ears as I turned to the state child services woman who stood in the doorway and tapped her foot impatiently.

My legs stiffened as I crossed to her. She took hold of my arm in a grip that I didn’t like, but I didn’t fight her as she led me to a car parked at the edge of the parking lot.

I got in the passenger seat of the sedan and dumped my backpack on the floor between my feet. She closed the car door behind me. The woman slid into the driver’s seat and clipped her seat belt before she turned to me.

I’m Sue, by the way. There was no warmth in her gaze. It was as cold as a snake. I’m sorry for your loss.

I just nodded and looked out the window. The populated city of Bangor still was a shock to my system. We had been in Williamsburg for so long, and the town center only consisted of a veterinarian, a doctor’s office, a gas station, and a country store. So, the transition from there to the hospital, to the funeral home, and now to the wayward home for girls, was too much stimulation for my brain to handle.

My fingertips sparked, and I curled my hands into fists to staunch the burn.

Sue parked on the curb next to a building with a sign on top that said Home for Wayward Girls. It reminded me of the old wing of the hospital. She stepped out of the car and came to the passenger door, then opened it for me.

Even though I lacked a lot of the social graces normal people had, everything about her mannerisms was weird. She took my arm again in that iron grip that was tight enough to stir my instincts into a frenzy.

A chill skittered through me.

By the time we stepped inside, the heat had bled from my skin in waves that warmed the air around me. If I didn’t get control of my nervous energy...

Sue stopped inside the great open hall.

A handsome couple stood from the bench near a door marked Office.

The woman had kind eyes and blonde hair that reminded me of my mother’s. She was pretty, but not stunning. Her gaze jumped between Sue and me, and a tick twitched the side of her mouth.

The man had his gaze locked on me. He was handsome in a way that made my knees weak, even though he was probably more than twice my age.

Sue’s gaze hardened even more, which I didn’t think was possible until I saw the knot in her jaw. We are closed for the evening, Sue said, her voice clipped with authority. Her grip on my arm tightened as she led me toward the door opposite the office.

I am related to Faith.

He knew my name. I stopped, and the air in my lungs sucked out as if a boulder had landed on my chest.

The man glanced at Sue’s grip on my arm.

She tugged me, but I stayed in place, just staring at him.

His eyes narrowed. I suggest you let her go, he said, his voice lowering into a dangerous tone.

Her mother’s records stated there was no next of kin, Sue snapped, still gripping my arm and trying to get me to move towards the interior door.

It made me wonder what was on the other side of this grand atrium, and I found myself decidedly not wanting to find out.

The air shifted, caressing my skin with a discomfort so severe that I nearly yanked out of Sue’s grip and bolted for the outside door. I was willing to take my chances in the harsh world instead of this questionable institution.

I’m not related to her mother, he said.

I blinked. If he wasn’t related to my mother...

I shook at the sudden thought that swelled in my mind. This was Lucifer. This man was my father.

His gaze turned to mine and softened. I’m not your father, he said as if he had read my thoughts, or somehow felt the fear broadcasting from every cell.

There is paperwork that needs to be filled out, Sue said, and her grip tightened painfully.

I winced.

The man stalked towards us. I am her uncle, and I am taking her home. Right. Now. Please see that you file the paperwork accordingly. The words sounded more like a growling command than a request.

Sue’s hand dropped from my arm as if she had no choice. As if an invisible force made her release me. Her face scrunched, and she glared at the man.

The moment Sue released me, the blonde woman stepped to my side and hooked her arm through mine. She turned me towards the outer doors and hurried us away from the bristling state worker.

I’m Bridget Ryan, she whispered as we left the atrium and started down the stairs. That’s my husband, Tom. I’m sure you have a million and one questions going through that brain of yours. Once we get settled in the truck, we will answer every one of them.

Unease burned in my belly, and my nerves started firing in overdrive, creating a prickly heat itching every inch of my skin. I didn’t know if staying in that institutional building was safer than going with these strangers.

I almost pulled out of her grip, but a hand landed on my shoulder, shocking me. It felt like an electrical surge, and I jerked away from the connection with my heart lodged in my throat.

His touch had almost ignited my fingertips.

Tom Ryan stared down at me with an apologetic smile. We need to go. He traded a glance with Bridget.

She looked at the building, and I sensed fear.

What are you? I blurted as my mind started truly working again for the first time since my mother had imparted my heritage. Tom said he was my uncle. Which meant he was Lucifer’s brother. Which meant he was an archangel. I shivered despite the warm spring air.

"I’m not an archangel. But we need to move because whatever that was inside was not alone."

Bridget bolted down the stairs and climbed into the front seat of the truck.

What do you mean?

That thing was not a state worker, he said. It was a soul eater, and once they figure out you are gone, they’ll come after us. He glanced up the steps, and a nervous energy singed the air.

Why should I trust you?

You need to make that choice, but I’m kind of partial to my soul. He started down the stairs and stopped like he knew I was debating about running. There are worse things than the foster care system, and I think you sensed that even before that woman dragged you into the building.

It could have been because you were in there, I said.

Tom, there’s movement up there, Bridget said. Her voice sounded as on edge as I felt.

He nodded. We need to go. I will not force you, but I’m not going to stay and fight, either. So, the choice is yours. He turned, trotted down the steps, and climbed in the back seat of the truck.

Bridget started the truck and the engine idled.

I glanced at the Home for Wayward Girls sign, and unease wrapped around me, squeezing my abdomen. There were very few times in my life that I’d felt that kind of unease, and my mother moved us the moment I’d mentioned it.

The front door opened, and what stepped out made my eyes widen and my heart stall in my chest. It was wearing the outfit Sue had on, but its face didn’t have any eyes or nose. Just a gaping mouth with rows of teeth.

I turned and ran toward the truck. Screw the illusion of choice. I didn’t want to stay behind and find out just what a soul eater did. I skidded around the front of the truck and hopped into the passenger seat. I didn’t even have the door closed all the way when Bridget gunned the gas.

I just prayed I wasn’t making the biggest mistake of my life.

SILENCE FILLED THE CAR. I didn’t know which question to ask first, and neither Bridget nor Tom seemed to be inclined to break the silence. When I turned towards the back, Tom met my gaze and handed me a pair of leather gloves.

I stared at the soft fabric and then back at him.

While I can probably survive a fire, Bridget can’t.

I recoiled and fisted my hands around the gloves. He knew my secret. My gaze jumped to Bridget. She glanced at me and then back at the road, and all I could sense was her discomfort.

How...

Fate. Tom said nothing more.

Fear laced my mouth, making it taste like rusted metal. Gloves won’t help, I finally said.

Those will. They’ve been warded. I know you have some sense of control, but some things we need to talk about may trigger... a reaction. He glanced out the window and waited.

Bridget’s knuckles whitened like her grip on the steering wheel was the only thing keeping her together.

If I were going to have a reaction, it would have been on the front steps of the home, but I slipped on the gloves, anyway. The burn in my hands cooled like when my mother used to plunge me into a cool bath before I could set the cottage on fire. It calmed my nerves, and I glanced at the man in the back seat like he had just given me the best gift in the world. That euphoria faded as he began to speak.

Fate came to us the day your mother passed away and told us—

Wait. Fate’s a real person? I asked, unable to contain myself.

Tom smiled, and it reached his eyes, creating crinkles at the edges and dimples in his cheek. He certainly was nice to look at when he smiled.

Your mother really kept you off the supernatural grid, he said with a laugh. "Yes. Fate is an actual being. So is Death. Just like Lucifer was an archangel... and I am not. I’m just a man, but if you want to get technical, I’m Lucifer’s great grandson, by so many generations removed that I’m not sure what the number is. My brother could tell you the exact number of generations between