The Powerful Pride of an Immortal (Immortal Supers Book 4) by Kurtis Eckstein (i want to read a book .TXT) 📕

Damn, I hadn’t thought about that. And shit, it made me wonder if that was the reason why Lily wasn’t aware that she might have pyrokinesis. Because she could only control the flames she generated, rather than any flame.

And sure enough, all it took was a quick click for me to discover that either I didn’t know how to use my pyrokinesis consciously, or else I simply couldn’t control this flame. It certainly didn’t do anything abnormal when I tried willing it to.

“Can you create a flame on your finger?” she wondered.

My brow furrowed as I considered that, feeling really nervous about it, only to turn away and begin walking further from the house, toward the side. Winter followed after me, but stopped when I told her to. This wasn’t the first time I’d tried to create flames. After all, when my eyes started glowing, I was worried that was going to be a problem.

However, I never managed it before, and this was the first time I’d attempted it after failing previously. But now it was time to try again.

Create a flame.

Deep within me, I sensed the tiniest spark ignite, feeling like my cells were singing as my entire body erupted into a brilliant blue bonfire. And yet, my clothing was fine, and even the lighter in my hand was fine.

The only problem was, I was only trying to ignite my finger, not my whole body.

Turning toward Winter, I saw that she was staring at me with a look of awe, mesmerized by the sight before her.

Sincerely afraid to try doing much with these azure flames, I just waited for her to gather herself, with her finally holding out her hand. “Okay, toss me the lighter.”

Of course, I had no idea what was on her mind, but did as she asked. She caught the lighter and then clicked it on, slowly moving closer.

“Careful,” I said seriously.

“I am,” she reassured me. “It’s not hot though. Even the surface of the lighter wasn’t hot.”

“And what are you trying to do?” I wondered, watching as she inched the lighter’s orange flame closer and closer. So much for telling me to ‘light her up.’ She was certainly being cautious now.

Unexpectedly, it was like an azure tongue shot out and snatched the orange flame up, with the light suddenly out. She clicked it on a second time and moved a little closer, watching it happen again. And then again.

“Having fun?” I asked.

She met my gaze. “I think the fire you’re creating is foundationally different from the lighter’s fire. You should have the capacity to control the flames you’re producing, but you can’t control this. And, at first glance, it kind of looks like your fire is swallowing up the lighter’s fire, but I think it might actually be changing it.”

“Changing it?” I repeated.

“Yeah, like when your fire touches the orange flame, it almost looks like the orange flame rapidly turns blue, as if it’s transforming to be like your flames, and then it gets pulled away.”

“Huh. I bet that would look interesting on a slow-motion camera.” Really, between what she was saying and the fact my flames weren’t hot right now, it was almost like they foundationally different than regular fire – like she was suggesting. Almost as if they were ghostly flames instead.

Astral flames.

She nodded. “And I think that’s how you stopped the bomb yesterday too. Normally, two explosions are just going to create more damage, but it seems like you might have reduced the damage caused by rapidly transforming the fire you couldn’t control into a fire you could control.” She paused. “The flames were white then, but rather than just go in every direction, they spun like a tornado, and it looked like they were swallowing the orange explosion from the bomb.”

“You saw it?”

She nodded again. “From my hotel room.”

“Huh. And how do you know I reduced the explosion?”

“Overheard some thoughts this morning.”

I supposed I shouldn’t have been surprised. Plus, she was probably aware from my own thoughts about having a premonition before it happened. That I’d seen the damage that never fully occurred.

“That too,” she agreed.

I cleared my throat. “Oh, and I almost forgot to ask you. Apparently, you’re trying to get added to my Sovereign Persons ID?”

That drew her up short. “That a problem?”

“Well, I don’t know,” I said seriously. “Seems kind of risky for you to just request that, without talking to me about it first. What if I told her it was the first time I was hearing about it?”

“I think you forget that I’ve already done my own assessment.”

My eyes widened in surprise, recalling the fact that she was the very reason I got everything I wanted at the negotiation. Because she trusted me and apparently her confidence was a big deal. Not to mention, I promised her a favor in exchange.

Sounded like she was trying to cash in on that favor, though I hadn’t a clue why.

“And how does that work?” I wondered, referring to her assessment.

She shrugged. “It’s like a sixth sense. I can actively hear your thoughts and sense your emotions as they happen, and I can sense people’s general emotional state, even when asleep, if I’ve temporarily latched onto them. And then I can also determine the trustworthiness of an individual if I concentrate hard enough. But it’s hard to explain that one. It really is like a sixth sense, because I just concentrate, and then I know.”

“But I mean, people can be trustworthy in certain situations, but not others, so how does that work?”

“You’re right,” she agreed simply. “It’s complicated. When I used to use my ability more frequently in the past, usually I assigned people a number from one to a hundred.” She frowned. “The problem is, as you just pointed out, a number doesn’t truly quantify a multi-dimensional issue like trust. It’s why I don’t use it professionally anymore.”

Something about her expression made me realize there was more she wasn’t