Girl on Fire

By Melinda Skye

THE SPARK

At fifteen, orphan Brigitta Bayer was caught up in a tragedy of historical proportions. Yet she was spared by the 1939 explosion that killed so many others. Instead, her feet were set on a path of gradual discovery, a path testing her limits, bravery, friendship and faith, and above all patience, a path leading through the twentieth century to the green-eyed hero who seems her only hope of understanding what she has become, something out of fiction, a worker of wind and flame, so that the next time tragedy strikes she will be ready. Every superhero has an origin story, and this ember began in a blaze.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boroughs Publishing Group
• Release date: Oct 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9781941260197

Book preview

GIRL ON FIRE

Melinda Skye

www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

GIRL ON FIRE

Copyright © 2014 Skye Christakos

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

ISBN 978-1-941260-19-7

For Cordelia, my own Super Girl

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book wouldn’t have been possible without my appendix. Or rather, without the doctors thinking my appendix needed to come out, which gave me an unplanned two-week vacation/recovery time with which I first drafted this story. Thanks also go to the fabulous people at Boroughs Publishing Group for having a contest right when I was considering what to do with the story, and all the fabulous people who voted for it.

I also have to thank Karen Petersen for doing a rush review job before the contest, and Bryn and Bert Forbes for providing expertise not only on planes but also the science behind Ember’s powers. Mike Capracotta also provided invaluable insight into hydrogen and Ember’s research.

Finally, as always, I have to thank my mother for babysitting while I worked on the final drafts, my husband for being tolerant and happy to take the baby whenever needed, and to my new baby girl who helpfully slept a lot so I could finish this project up.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

About the Author

GIRL ON FIRE

Chapter One

Smoke billowing, terrified injured people… I surveyed the devastation in front of me and heaved a sigh. My whole life had been one long journey from tragedy to tragedy. And yet, nothing would ever be the same.

That day, so many years ago, before the flames came for me, before everything changed, I was just a young girl, terrified and alone. I was still young—in appearance, if not in years—but I wasn’t alone anymore. I looked around at my team, amazed and inspired just by seeing them. I had no idea how the world was going to change after today, after what we’d done, but with these people standing by my side I could tackle anything.

I set the empty wrapper of my protein bar down. Once again energized, I nodded at the others. Benchpress, Gray Lady, you ready to work?

They nodded, set down their cups of coffee and headed back into the rubble. Without turning around, I held my hand out for my partner. There for me, he slid his hand into mine. I gave him a squeeze and then let go.

Don’t overwork yourself, I warned as I stepped away.

He managed the barest hint of a grin. Same to you.

I brushed some soot off my red and orange spandex suit. The colors once shimmered like the flames I could control, but the hard and dirty work had taken a toll on the fabric. And on me. But I shrugged, and he nodded. We both knew we’d work ourselves half to death if necessary.

Enough delay. With just a moment of concentration, I created pockets of hydrogen around my body and lifted off the ground, heading for the devastation.

Chapter Two

Sixty-four years earlier

A smoking room seemed like an odd thing to have on an airship.

Hydrogen and fire: They don’t go well together. Fortunately, this airship came equipped with the most advanced smoking room anyone could imagine. It was kept at a higher pressure to contain the smoke, had a double-door airlock and was guarded by a crew member. They’d taken every precaution. I, not being a smoker, wondered why they bothered with the risk. But my dour governess, Frau Helga, had informed me she was headed to the smoking room yet again.

Freedom! This was my moment to explore. I peeked around the corner and watched her order a drink from the bar while chatting with another of the passengers. I’d been waiting to get rid of her for a while. I was running out of time to explore this zeppelin.

My ears caught the sound of my name on Frau Helga’s lips and I paused.

Yes, poor girl. I’m delivering her to live with some American family. Frau Helga, a proud, stern German, managed to make this sound like a bad thing, although I’d heard nice things about the family who was taking me in. Her parents were vastly wealthy, you know, and they travelled all the time. Left her at home with her tutors. Lucky for her, since she was safe at home the night they wrecked their automobile.

The woman hearing my tale of woe murmured sounds of sympathy.

Yes, yes. Poor me. Poor little Brigitta Bayer.

Died in an instant. Frau Helga sounded a little too gleeful at sharing this gossip to really pull off the poor-concerned-governess approach. "Their servants have been taking care of the poor girl for a year now. We finally managed to find some distant relatives to take her."

Frau Helga’s voice faded away as she and her companion headed for the airlock into the smoking room. Trying to ignore the pitying words, I focused on what was really important, that I was finally free to explore. I’d spent three painfully long, boring days under the watchful eye of my governess. She hadn’t seemed to understand how exciting a flight on a dirigible from Germany to the United States was, or she’d just deliberately kept me from anything fun. We’d left Frankfurt three days earlier and were due to land in New Jersey in a few hours. If I wanted to see the ship, it had to be now.

I darted out of sight of a crew member who headed down the hallway toward me, opened a door at random and ducked inside. I came face to face with another person, and as I stifled a shriek I realized at the last moment that it was only my reflection. My long blond hair was pinned up properly, and my blue eyes were wide with fright—and adventure.

I’d led a sheltered life in Germany. When I was free of Frau Helga, I hoped I’d get more opportunities to expand my horizons. She’d been so uptight on this trip, she’d barely even let me look out the windows to see the sights as we soared overhead. Of course, once we’d crossed the continent, the view of the ocean had grown old quickly.

I left the mirror behind and headed out through the door on the other side of the room. This emptied me into a long corridor that was bare in comparison to the luxurious hallways of the passenger compartments. Which meant I must have found the personnel space. I kept an eye out for crew. Since they outnumbered passengers two to one, there were a lot to dodge.

Several hours passed as I crept around, looking at nothing in particular but happy to see everything. I was particularly fascinated by the rain barrels in the hold. They used them to provide ballast to compensate for the fuel used on the trip. Since we were approaching our arrival, they were nearly full.

Eventually I decided to head back, as Frau Helga likely had the ship in an uproar searching for her missing ward. But as I turned around and debated which way would lead me back, I spotted a sign that called my name. Not literally, of course, but it said Warning, Keep Out in both English and German and repeated it for good measure in French and Spanish. My upbringing had ensured I could read all four languages without trouble.

According to Frau Helga I’d become defiant and willful, a thoroughly disobedient child since the death of my parents. It was that part which urged me forward to try the door handle, which opened smoothly.

I slipped inside.

The forbidden room was bigger than many of the crew quarters I’d explored in the past few hours. It was devoid of furniture and had an antiseptic aroma I associated with hospitals and doctors.

Perhaps it’s a nurse’s station, I mused, and turned to leave. But in the dim light, some movement out of the corner of my eye halted me.

I turned back and peered into the gloom of the room. There, in the corner, a shape moved, shifting with the rustle of fabric.

Hello? I called, first in German and then in English. Who’s there?

A groan sounded, giving me a shock. I hadn’t truly thought anyone else was here.

I fumbled for the light switch and flipped it on. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the brightness, but finally I could see a young man, maybe only a few years older than me, twenty at the most, curled in the corner of the room and clad only in pajama bottoms.

I gasped, embarrassed at having intruded, and turned again to leave, muttering apologies.

Wait, he managed before I could get out the door. Wait.

I stopped but didn’t turn around. Curiosity kept me from rushing away. Frau Helga complained that it would be the death of me one day. I certainly hoped today wasn’t that day.

Help me, the man said.

I’m sorry, I told him in my best English, I just lost my way. I’ll send someone in to assist you.

I reached for the door handle but his voice stopped me again. No!

He sounded so desperate that this time I turned around to look at him.

I flushed upon encountering his bare chest again and kept my eyes firmly on his face. He had dark chocolate brown hair that was too long; it fell scruffily over his eyes.

Help me, he said again and reached out a hand.

It was only then that I noticed his chains.

I shrunk toward the door, flattening my back against it, and fumbled behind me for the handle, not willing to take my eyes off a clearly dangerous prisoner. Frau Helga would be shocked to hear that we were on the same airship as this man. She’d chosen this zeppelin because it was known for catering to a higher class of individuals!

Don’t go, he said, his voice scratchy with disuse.

With my eyes I followed the chains on his wrists to the wall and realized he couldn’t reach me. Feeling slightly braver, but leaving my hand on the doorknob just in case, I studied him a bit more. He was thin, as if he hadn’t been fed in a long time, and his ribs showed under his sallow skin. He didn’t look healthy.

That fact, along with the chains, made me bold. I was fifteen years old, not a scared little girl, and this was 1937. I was a modern child. I could face a prisoner.

What’s your name? I demanded, my voice coming out higher than usual because of the fear that I kept trying to repress. I cleared my throat and tried again. What are you doing here?

Please, help me, he repeated, then looked up at me as I took a nervous step forward. His eyes softened, a terrible longing there, then his expression hardened,