Bringer of Fire Read Online Free Page A

assistant from the treatment center who had called me.
    The phone rang only twice before she picked up.
    “Hello?”
    “Maria, this is Logan Bringer. I really need to talk to you.”
    Silence.
    “Um, okay,” she said hesitantly.
    Her voice sounded strange. Had the FBI been to see her already?
    “Maria, I know this is going to come off as kind of weird, but I’ve noticed some odd side effects during the past week, and I wondered if it might be from the treatments that I’ve been taking.”
    Silence.
    “Maria?”
    “Yes, I’m still here. What sort of side effects?”
    I swallowed hard, wondering if I was about to admit something that would end with me being admitted into a mental facility.
    Given everything, I was fairly certain that the FBI would probably love that. Or, at least, Agent Burroughs might.
    “Well, Maria, I’ve had a couple of instances where objects kind of---”
    I stopped to collect my thoughts.
    “What I mean is, on occasion, I might be misjudging my perception of objects and their relative distance from me.”
    Okay, that sounded all wrong.
    “I-I’m not sure what you mean,” she stammered.
    “Maria, I think that objects are sometimes either attracted or repelled by me.”
    Yep, that sounded completely mental. Way to go, Logan.
    I expected Maria to laugh or perhaps hang up, but instead I thought that I heard a sharp intake of breath.
    “Logan, I want you to come to my house. There’s something that you need to know.”
    I was surprised.
    “Really? Tonight?”
    “Tonight, Logan. Right now, in fact. And I’d rather not discuss this over the phone. Here’s my address…”
    I scribbled her address on the cover of a sports magazine that was lying on my coffee table and assured her that I was on my way. I was intrigued by her reaction and so curious what she might say that not even the entire FBI could stop me from getting to her house that night.
    Half an hour later, I pulled into the driveway of the address that she had given me. Maria lived in a relatively new neighborhood across town from me.
    Even at night, the hedges and lawn looked immaculate. I felt so anxious to speak to her that I practically hopped from the car and onto her front porch. She must’ve been watching for me because my finger never had a chance to touch the doorbell.
    “Come in, Logan. I’m glad that you called me tonight,” Maria said as she held open her front door for me.
    The interior of her home looked both elegant and immaculate, making me feel as though I lived in a dump by comparison. She looked quite attractive in her faded blue jeans and dark pullover sweater as she gestured for me to sit on her couch.
    She perched nervously on the edge of the couch cushion next to me and tried unsuccessfully to appear reassuring.
    “Would you like something to drink? Maybe tea or coffee?” she asked.
    Something to drink? The great American greeting. My thoughts shot back to my earlier meeting with the FBI.
    “No, thanks, I’m fine,” I replied.
    Actually, I’m not fine.
    “Logan, these symptoms that you described to me over the phone, are you certain they had something to do with the unexpected moving of objects?” she asked.
    I nodded.
    “What I’m about to tell you is—well, rather incredible, but also potentially dangerous.”
    Part of me wasn’t sure if I wanted to know what she was going to say next.
    “Go on,” I said. “Whatever it is, I need to know. I think I’m going crazy or something.”
    She offered me a sympathetic expression.
    “Logan, you’re not going crazy. The things you’re experiencing are side effects of your treatment. Other patients have experienced them before. It’s just that you’re---”
    “What? I’m what?”
    I was really somewhat anxious at that point. The army never trained me on how to react to shit like this.
    “You’re one of the few patients who has made it this far before. Most didn’t survive their treatments.”
    Both my mind and pulse raced. Of all the