Wicked Little Things by Justin Arnold

Author:Justin Arnold [Arnold, Justin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay, horror, teen, ya, young adult, queer, magic, witches, spooky, halloween, ghosts
Publisher: Tiny Ghost Press
Published: 2022-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

15

Vandal

My brain feels like it’s going to melt from my skull.

Rabbit Skins takes EJ by the ear. EJ, who also seems to be frozen and can’t fight against the killer, flashes his wild blue eyes between me and the ghost.

Oh, hell no. This is the closest I’ve ever come to first base with a boy. A demon witch-ghost is not ruining this for me.

My body burns, grilling itself with flames that want to—need to—come out. My muscles shake, my bones rattle, and within my right fist, between my tightly coiled fingers, smoke rises.

So, this man was—is—a witch, and clearly a bad one. My arms burn even hotter at just the thought that me and this monster have something in common. But if Hawthorne’s reaction to my power is any clue, Rabbit Skins is about to find out just how wicked I might be.

My thumb twitches, and then my index finger. Onward, one at a time, the fingers become loose, letting go of plume after plume of hot, thick smoke. Tiny orange flames ignite from my fingerprints.

I blink and my vision goes red for a moment, like I’m seeing the world through a colored gel, then the flames take over.

Fire pours from my hands, lighting them entirely, but my skin doesn’t broil. Unfrozen, I lift my arms, heaving the air that sizzles in my lugs. EJ’s terrified eyes land on me as I step toward him and the killer, my head low. All of my instincts say, “Kill. Kill. Kill.”

The flames climb higher from my hands, setting off the fire alarm. The sprinklers rain down on my head, exhausting the flames, leaving only steam in their wake. The fire alarm screeches and the lights of the basement flip on. Rabbit Skins vanishes in the same instant.

It’s as though he was never here.

“Dane?”

I force myself to meet EJ’s gaze. His eyes bore into me, glancing between me and my hands. He looks terrified, his bottom lip quivering.

“What are you?”

“Clearly you already know.”

Metal clangs by the stairs and my eyes fall through the rain of the sprinklers and on Sheriff Doyle. Over the screams of the alarm, he shouts, “Hands where I can see them, boys!”

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