Page 7 of The Pawn

"Are you calling the ghost down on me?"

I dare to tell him, "I am."

"Ghosts only punish sinners." Tanner sweeps the lighter out, igniting the other candlewicks in a few smooth motions. They flicker and dance as the wax coating them burns away, pooling and melting down them in drips. "What sins am I being punished for, New Meat? I want to know before I die."

"I don't know."

"You called the ghost." Tanner sweeps his hand above the candles' flames, dancing close to the heat of their fire. "Everyone knows Martha Hayes only does the bidding of poor little girls like her. So tell her why I should suffer at her hands, since you're the one she'll listen to."

He's staring at me, daring in his honey brown eyes. A prickle of warning sets the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. There is something at the edges of his expression, a darkness that suggests he has little to lose, that he'd jump off a tall building if you gave him reason enough.

It reminds me of Silas that day he stood up to Papa and told him he was coming here—to this school, to the end of the line.

"She should punish you for... smoking."For my brother's death,I want to say,for the noose he put around his neck because you didn't care about the fallout of your little games."And for trespassing."

"Petty crimes." His mouth curves up dismissively; holding his hand out, he cups his palm around the heat of the nearest candle flame. "No ghost will do your dark bidding if you don't put your heart in it."

I swallow. "I came here to retrieve you, not—not for this weird bullshit. We're supposed to be on a tour."

"The buildings aren't going anywhere." Reaching out, he snags my hand, his grip too strong for me to pull away from without a great deal of effort. "Tell the flame what you want, Brenna. Only the burned get to petition Martha Hayes."

"This is stupid." He puts my fingers near the candle, next to his. "Stop it, Tanner."

"You called the ghost."

"It was just a joke."

"Was it?" A tilt of his head. Sunlight filtering in from the stained glass turns his shaved black hair into a smudged painting, a riot of colors dancing on his brown freckled skin. "Jokes have punchlines."

He pulls my wrist, and the candle flame dances close to my skin. I feel the heat—not just of the fire, but of his body close to mine, his eyes staring down at me in wicked daring. A strange, wild desire courses through me: to bite his jaw, his lips, his cheek, until blood runs down his pretty mouth and pools in his chin, until I taste the salt and metal of his pain on my tongue. I want to see him hurt. I want to feel it, skin against skin.

So I stop hiding in the grass, waiting for a moment to strike. I've never been the weak girl—time to give up pretending that I am. Flipping my hand over, I grabhiswrist and jerk it towards the fire.

His eyes widen as the flame licks at him. "Hey!" Hissing, he pulls back, taking me with him. "Goddamnit—you burned me."

My heart is racing. "You started it."

"I wasn't going todoanything. I was just joking—I wouldn't have actually hurt you." Tanner backs away from me, looking at me like I've got horns on my head. "You're a real sick girl, you know."

Maybe I am. Staring at the candle that burned him, I reach out my hand and cup the flame until I feel pain at the edges of my palm. My snake bite scar pulses as my skin turns bright pink.

Tanner is staring at me.

"There," I tell him. "Now we're even."

The flame feels oddly comforting. Something about the pain has gone over onto the other side now. I feel a visceral sense of satisfaction as I push my hand down further on the flame and the pain grows, radiating across my skin.

If I can survive losing Silas, I can survive anything. Including this.

"Enough!" Tanner jerks my hand back, then leans over and blows out the candles one by one. "I don't know what game you're playing, but congratulations—you freaked me the fuck out. I thought for a second there that you'd been possessed. We can go now."

I raise my brows at him, shaking off my hand as the burn heads towards a blister. "If I'd known scaring you a little was all it would take, I would've come in through the back and madeboonoises at you."

"You're mental." He shakes his head, but he's staring at me with something like admiration. "Congratulations, New Meat. You cooked yourself."

As I follow Tanner past the rows of pews and towards the chapel doors, I feel a cool breeze lift the hair on the back of my neck, even though none of the windows in the chapel are open. Glancing over my shoulder, I look to Martha's urn, and I swear I can feel her presence for a brief moment.

Maybe it's just my imagination.

---