In Flaming Fire

Table of Contents

Coverpage

Title

Copyright

Description

Quotation

Acknowledgement

Table of 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

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

About the author

In Flaming Fire

By C.A. Caster

Copyright

Copyright © 2013, By Cassandra A. Caster.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, which is me.

All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN 978-0-9924276-0-3

Ok! Here goes...!

You are a bad guy. I.E. murder, rape, theft, etc.

Do I....

1. Put you in jail till you learn your lesson?

2. Let you go cause you're...

     a. Nuts?

     b. Cute?

     c. Rich?

     d. In possession of a good lawyer?

     e. Too smart to leave behind evidence?

     f. Etc.

Or....

3. Roast your ass to a degree fitting your crime? Wanna guess which one I prefer?

In flaming fire taking vengeance on them that know not God and obey not the gospel of our lord, Jesus Christ.

- 2nd Thessalonians 1:8

Authors note

This book comes of a dream as most stories do.

In this dream there are heroes, sweet vengeance, and solutions.

It comes from a deep frustration that God has become impotent.

That man does not know if, or how, crimes are punished for certainty.

It comes of a great fantasy of a perfect world.

With a great need to keep the good in the world safe.

There is a childish plea in this story,

"Come save us.

...Please."

My husband is the hero of my dreams. Thank you is not enough.

    Thank you to Shelley King - Wickes. You know a good friend when they can tell you the brutal truth and laugh their ass off when you fall on your face!

    A special thank you to Jeff Chapman, cover artist, for being intuitive enough to put a face to the name, you rock!

And thank you to those who believe in me, The sentiment is mutual!

P.s. This book contains adult reading material. If you read beyond this page you agree that you are old enough, and that I am not liable if your innocence is assaulted, or for anything else, for that matter.

Chapter 1 -  No!... and ...WTF!... and....Oh YEAH baby!

Chapter 2 - New circles of friends

Chapter 3 - Wasn't a dream

Chapter 4 - Not what it used to be

Chapter 5 - The Mountain

Chapter 6 - The shitter, the necklace, and the lie

Chapter 7 - Oh! That's who that was!

Chapter 8 - Nerds are awesome

Chapter 9 - The new career path

Chapter 10 - I know it's an imposition, but.....

Chapter 11 - Does that hurt???

Chapter 12 - Oh, that's just hot!

Chapter 13 - Vacancy at the prison...cheap!

Chapter 14 - Besties and beer

Chapter 15 - Addictive personalities

Chapter 16 - Trolling

Chapter 17 - I want to rule the world!!

Chapter 18 - OOOPS!

Chapter 19 - I'm sorry :<

Chapter 20 - Get this angel out of my sight.

Chapter 21 - I so want that!

Chapter 22 - Get over it

Chapter 23 - Too good to be true

Chapter 24 - I thought I fixed that

Chapter 25 - Pardon me while I kill these guys.

Chapter 26 - What happens in Vegas better scare you.

Chapter 27 - Solutions

Chapter 28 - Sad

Chapter 29 - Ooh!... Aah!... Pretty!

Chapter 30 - Slap and tickle

Chapter 31 - Do I look different?

Chapter 32 - It only takes one

Chapter 33 - Falling apples.

Chapter 1

     Blood. 

     It slid slowly down the table leg as if it had all the time in the world. It hesitated, swelled, and then, with abandon, fell.

    The girl opened the door and bustled in, she shook off the April rain and dropped her car keys into her purse. The house she lived in with her mother was small, but it sat to the side of a cul de sac in a safe, tidy neighborhood. The little house was the center of their lives which were busy, normal, and happy.

    As she stepped into the entry, she felt something, it made her brow buckle ever so slightly. She felt as if the house was waiting. The odd thought made her pause, and then move on.

    Her mother would be home from work and probably had a lecture brewing. 

    Her mother had expected her to have a full time job, stick to her dance practice and martial arts, and be there for family time.  Her schedule used to be worse, but she had graduated from school a couple years before. It was difficult to swing, but Jenika refused to give up her friend time as well. Now Mom was brooding because Jenika couldn't find time to register for classes at the university. 

'Why was the house waiting?' She hesitated again and then blew it off with a slight shake of her head.

    She stopped when she noticed the jumbled heap of furniture in her usually clean living room. 

'What now?'  She thought. Immediately thinking that her mother was off on a cleaning tangent or rearranging the furniture. She leaned hesitantly forward to get a better view into the room. The furniture wasn't just moved, it had been knocked over and broken! 

    Her mind stuttered with confusion, and her irritation turned to caution. She scanned the room and the color red caught her eye, her gaze swung back to the out of place color and her eyes focused on it.

    It was blood.  It seemed time slowed to a crystal clear frame by frame.  Suddenly, she had time to see the coffee table turned on its side, it's leg broken, and a chair knocked over.  

    A distant part of her mused at how suddenly detailed everything was as she noticed that the underside of the chair revealed how inexpertly her mother had reupholstered it.

Her scalp tightened, prickling over her skull, as adrenaline seeped into her system. It seemed time had slowed to allow her mind to compute and let her fight or flight responses wrestle with each other.

    Mom?!

    The front room was a mess, and as she stepped forward, she saw hair on the floor, then an arm. The hair was the same color as her mother's. There was no movement, but somewhere in the house a clock ticked loudly. The comfortable home she knew became instantly strange.

    Mom?  Softly. It didn't look like her.  She'd seen her mom in every way but not like this. Even when her mom was sleeping there was movement. Life.

    A step closer, tripping slightly on a book that didn't belong there.  

    When the smell hit her she jerked her head back, it was ionic,  Revolting.  She recognized the smell of blood from her martial arts classes, She'd been hit in the nose a time or two. 

    Seeing her mothers' hair there on the floor was so very wrong. Her mind, unused to fear and panic, was struggling to rationalize and understand at the same time. In shock, her thoughts were racing, flitting from rational thoughts to illogical ones all in a moment. Some of her thoughts were just plain crazy, she knew they were, but they entered her mind unbidden. 

    Physically, she felt odd and she wanted to push the sensations aside because they were distracting her from dealing with what she was doing at the moment, which was panicking. She felt a pressure on her chest. It was a constriction, a tightening.  The feeling was odd but she passed it off as shock.  

    This feeling was what the house was waiting for,  however. The Change. The Realization. The house was poised to witness the transformation of her life.

    Mommy?  She held her breath, waiting. She couldn't force herself to move forward.

The girl was confused. 'How could this be?'  She thought.

    She was slightly odd, her mother, but strong, dependable, and always there.  She would not joke like this.

    She noticed that her thoughts were random, and the tightening was increasing, this time accompanied by a violent cracking sound!  The girl couldn't discern the direction from where the noise came, almost as if it was a feeling, not a noise. 'Was the sound in her head?  Did the silence of the house make it seem louder?  Would anyone else be able to hear that?  Would they come running to my rescue?'  She thought wildly, stepping closer to the spread of hair on the floor.  

    Another loud crack! It sounded like a tree bending beyond its ability. Yes, that was definitely in her head!

    Momma?! 'Please, please you need to move!'  She begged. She knew the sight of her mom's hair on the floor was not right, and she tipped her body forward, feet rooted to their spot, trying to see without actually seeing.

    The tightening became uncomfortable,  and inwardly she struggled. What part of her was being compressed?  she wondered. Not her body, or her lungs, nothing she could actually see.  It was like....her being, her soul maybe?

    The house seemed to teeter with anticipation. Another crack! ear splitting, making her wince.  

'Not my mom! I need her!'  Then, simpering around the last of the obstructing furniture, she saw all of her mother piled awkwardly on the floor.

    Panic blossoming in her body! Her mind exploding with brilliant light, her gut clenched and her insides went watery. 

'This is insane!'  A whine escaped from her throat. Her feet lurched her backwards, her eyes running away from the sight they didn't want to see.

'Why? How?' There was bright blood under her mother, the edge of the pool starting to turn black.

'No. This is not happening!'

    Mom, Are you Ok? She said it quietly, she knew her mother wasn't there anymore. She could feel her absence. The void was blaring and hopeless. She was alone for the first time in her life!

    Another crack!  This one sounded final. She opened her eyes and a tear slid down her face. As the deafening sound reverberated through her being, she suddenly felt detached. She felt a soft pull on her gut, and floated up. The pressure and tightness eased. 

    Aware, she looked down from above and across the room, watching herself standing there in grief and confusion. Her astral projection self considered the situation logically and rationally. In this form she could look at herself and the room below calmly, as if she were witnessing a friend below.  She looked crazy down there, standing frozen with her purse hanging, forgotten on her arm.

    The cracking sound seemed to signal a separation of her consciousness.  A logical part separated itself from her panicking mind, and floated up and out to observe, to decompress, and assess. 

Apparently, she had a third option. Fight, flight, or divide.  Admittedly, that was cool. 

     A quick scan around the room showed her her destroyed mother's form crumpled on the floor and the room in such disarray that it would piss mom off if she could see it.  She saw herself standing in shock, shaking, hands fluttering around her mouth like a panicking bird and the sounds coming from deep in her throat were inhuman and frightening.  She didn't seem aware that the whine came from herself.

    The girl below grew stiff. Overwhelmed by confusion, trying pathetically to jumpstart her fear paralyzed mind. Her arms slowly straightened and her purse dropped to the floor.

The blood in her veins seemed to thrum with energy.

    She crept to her mother and knelt gingerly, pressing her fingers to her mother's neck. She didn't need to feel for a pulse, her mother's skin was cooling. She stood and shuffled back a  couple of steps. Fuck!

    Organize thoughts. That is what she must do first.  

'My mother is dead.'  That single thought jackknifed through her heart with an ache that she wanted to reach into her chest and claw it out. She actually grabbed the front of her shirt and twisted in response to the intense feeling.  She wanted with all her being to rewind time and make this just a nauseating nightmare. The effort of restraining her fear was almost physical and she tried to refrain from panting with exertion.

'No!  She's not just dead, she was murdered! ...Somebody did this. Wondering why won't help right now. I'm alone.  Find help.' 

She watched herself turn her body back and forth as she thought, her arms straight as if it would help her decide what to do.

'I'm watching myself from across the room? That is me over there blubbering like an idiot and this me is cool and aware, watching from above. That's impossible!'

She watched as she looked up at the corner of the room and saw nothing.

    The frantic girls' thoughts spun in her head, jumbled, and confused.  

'Can I help her? I told her I loved her before I left, that was good.  It had been a good week, we hadn't fought.  Who will help me?  Why can I see myself? Why can't I see myself up there? What is this pressure I feel?' 

    At the ceiling, she patiently waited for herself to exhaust all of the thoughts and questions. At least one of them had a grip. In this one's mind, this event simply Was. It was not good, or bad, it just Was.

'Look how she was left, like she was discarded!'  She blinked twice with realization. One hand pushing the hair off her forehead. She looked at her mother with horror. A seed of rage rooted, swelled, pushed at the fear.

'This was my home!  Where do I go now? Look how she was left, like she was discarded!' 

    And then a slower, new thought presented itself. This thought stronger than the others. Her eyes narrowed. The thought solidified, it quickly became the only One.

'HOW DO I HURT WHO DID THIS?' Bold and in all caps. There was lust in that thought. 

    The need to avenge her mother whiplashed through her. She felt rage, hot in her chest.

All thoughts of running away or getting help vanished. The tight feeling became warm. She was liking this thought.  The shaking girl across the room lifted her chin. She smiled slowly. It wasn't a nice smile.

    The tight feeling, now almost hot.  She began to sweat and pant.  Her fingers curled into claws, and a heavy feeling of power coalesced in the pit of her stomach, somehow comforting, growing? The heat and power in her churned together and was.....beautiful?

 It felt vicious, it was good! Delicious. Comfortable.  She shifted her body to better adjust to the strength pulsing in her. She easily gave herself over to the throbbing and let it take her. It filled her up.

    She watched herself from above as she went from panicked to scary. She stood looking down on her mother in a rock star stance. Her long hair was moving of  its own accord, in slow motion, defying gravity. The power positively hummed off her. She looked Jeckle mad.

 She bent down to brush the hair softly and lovingly from her mothers' eyes.  The only gentle thing about her current existence. 

    The out of body girl patiently watched as the pitiful girl below changed into a furious girl, panting with teeth bared and eyes narrowing with hunger and predatory intelligence. She rose and strode across the room. The power she emanated was terrifying.  She looked as if she was ready to kick someone's ass!

    Above, the girls' mind downloaded the information, understood the transformation, accepted the situation... and was impressed.

    The heat settled into a comfortable weight and the power swirling around the poor girls grief suddenly intensified into a whirling inferno that reminded her of a wildfire! There was a roar that was so loud, the deafening noise could be felt physically.  

    She liked this wild and exhilarating power that was raging in her, it hummed her body and made her want to kill something, violently. She wanted to tear something apart. She needed to inflict pain. It turned her on!

    Together, both girls understood what could be done with this power, not questioning that in the real world this was impossible. It was as if the girl had always had this ability inside her, but never needed it until now. It settled in like a old coat she knew well.

    Her mind, hunting, sought out a trail, instinctively knowing that the one who murdered her mother would leave a fingerprint of a sort, she would use his guilt as a beacon.  It was an intimate connection that this person, this murderer, had made with her mother.  This doomed man couldn't hide his red hot guilty conscience. It was the one thing she knew about him. His guilt would hover about him like stink on shit, and she was going to hunt him down!

    She could do this, somehow she just knew, like it was natural to be able to reach out into the distance, seek out a single thought, from a single person, and avenge her mother with a simple will. 

     She thrilled in the hunt, seeking out with her mind up and beyond the house. She soared up high shouting out a hunting cry like the bay of a hound on the hunt. 

    Her malice was now tangible, she refused