Someone's always watching - Inner Fire by R.L. Stedman

Description:

‘‘Maybe it would be better if I started at the beginning.’ Gran watched me carefully. ‘This ability we have; my mother, me. You. We draw heat along our bodies; anger makes us flame.’

When her friend is assaulted, Corrine Peterson can’t help reacting. But she didn’t think and now her hands are burnt, Gran is coming to look after her and, scariest of all, strange men are watching her house. Could they be terrorists? Secret agents? 

It seems that Gran’s idea of a solution is to introduce Corrine to Rowan. Okay, sure, maybe eighteen year old Rowan is gorgeous – but he has his own troubles. And right now, Corrine doesn’t need complications in her life. 

But in a world of surveillance and secrecy, complexity is inevitable. And as the tension mounts Corrine realizes - maybe Gran can help her, after all.

EXCERPT

As we neared the doors everything seemed to move in slow motion and all the clatter of the railway station seemed to fall away, until there was only my heart pounding slowly, slowly, and three men, running toward us.

A hand grabbed at my arm. Dimly, I could hear Dad shouting ‘Leave her alone, you bastards!’

I twisted, pushed. My hair flew into my eyes. Dad bounded towards us, tried to grab one of the men, but they sidestepped him easily, gracefully, as if they were dancing, and knocked him to the ground.

‘Dad!’

He lay on the floor of the train station, groaning, and the crowd scattered.

‘Come on, little girl,’ said one. He had little flecks of gray in his hair.

He held my arm so tight.

Desperately, I shook my arms, my head, anything to loosen that grip.

Dad staggered to his feet but he seemed slow, so slow, and these men were strong. They half-dragged me back into the station, away from the doors. Weirdly, I felt really calm. Like I was cut off from everyone, like I was looking at people through glass. This isn’t happening; it’s not real, not real at all.

***** 

The car roared along, going faster, and our lights flicked along the hedgerows. Leaves brushed against the sides. It was like passing into hyperspace, or traveling backwards through time. These hedges, these roads, were ancient.

‘Like it?’ asked Rowan

Unthinkingly, I had moved into the middle of the seat, so my chin was resting on my hands, between his shoulder and Gran’s.

‘Yeah.’ I had never traveled so fast down these lanes. It was kind of hallucinatory.

‘Rowan!’ Gran was gripping the dashboard.

‘Ah, Mrs Walker,’ said Rowan. ‘We can see someone’s coming by their headlights. Don’t worry.’

He rounded a curve and passed into an even narrower lane. ‘Is this really a road?’

He turned his head, grinned. ‘Yes. This is the back way to your Gran’s house. I’m giving you the scenic tour.’

I laughed. In the dark the scenery was fairly limited. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he rounded a corner, the motor roaring. ‘Shit!’

Shit was a deer, stuck in the headlights like a statue. Staring straight at us.

Things happened in slow motion: Gran clutched the dashboard; Rowan hit the brakes; the wheels locked. We slid toward the deer. Desperately, Rowan spun the steering wheel back. The car righted itself, slowing to a stop just as the deer leapt up, up and out of the lane. Clearing the hedge, it seemed suspended in the dark. Its eyes were black as the night but in the headlights of the truck its skin appeared almost translucent. It was easily the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Rowan stopped the truck. We sat in the dark, all of us panting as though we’d run a long race. There was a faint smell of burning plastic from Gran’s fingers squeezing the dash. Quickly, she tucked her hands into her lap.

‘Shit,’ he said again.

I couldn’t stop laughing.

‘What’s so funny?’ Gran sounded angry, so I tried to hold the giggles in, but it was really, really funny. The look on her face. The look on Rowan’s face. Both of them, stuck in the headlights, just like the deer.

Rowan started to laugh too, like he had just realized what an idiot he’d been, or how lucky he was. Or both. Gran stared at him and at me, then shook her head. ‘Teenagers!’

‘Terrible, aren’t we?’ Rowan started the truck again, driving slower now.

And strangely, I didn’t feel annoyed at Gran, or worried about the men in London, or guilty about Mr Patel at all. I felt free, light as thistledown. As if it was me, not the deer, that had jumped the fence and galloped away into the dark.

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About the author:

My name is Rachel Stedman. I’m a physiotherapist (physical therapist) by background, but now I work as a freelance contractor. I live in the wild and windy place of Dunedin, New Zealand, with my husband and two kids.

I write mostly for children and young adults. In 2012 I won the Tessa Duder Award for an unpublished YA work and my first novel, A Necklace of Souls, was published by HarperCollins in 2013 (available in the United Kingdom and on Book Depository from June 2015). This year, A Necklace of Souls was awarded Best First Book at the 2014 New Zealand Post Book Awards and won a Notable Book Award from Storylines. Inner Fire is my second novel.

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