Playing With Fire by Jordan Mendez

looked around drowsily
at my surroundings. Everything was pitch-black, except for a small beam of
light that came from above me, flooding a small circumference with white light.
I tried to bring my hands to my eyes to rub them, but my arms wouldn’t move.
    I
tried moving them again, with the same results. I started to panic, which woke
me up enough to see the whole situation. I was sitting in a little wooden
chair. The problem was that I was tied to it from my shoulders down to my upper
torso. I tried to wriggle free, but my attempts were futile. The ropes were too
strong for me.
    Finally
coming up with a solution, I concentrated on the ropes, and sure enough, a
little flame popped up and began to eat away at the binds. But almost as
quickly as it came, it died with a hiss. Okay, I admit that then I was really
panicking. I didn’t know where I was and for the first time in my life my fire
wasn’t working. Someone chuckled from inside the darkness. Their laughter
sounded beautiful like silver bells. My frightened eyes shot up staring and
groping for the source.
    A
man walked out of the darkness, and my breath was caught in my throat. His pale
skin seemed to have a silver glow, and his hair was jet black like raven’s
feathers. It fell to his shoulders, but unlike most people with long hair it
was clean and looked like soft silk. His features were cut like a granite
statue, but instead of being over bearing, they were pleasant. A quick guess
told me he was around seven feet tall—but then again, to me every one looks
seven feet tall (don’t comment on that). But what surprised me the most were
his eyes. They were grey, alive, and almost completely identical to mine. They
had a tender look to them, but I couldn’t help but feel like there was much
more to him than that.
    “Hello
Scarlet,” He said. His voice was as sweet as honey and as beautiful as a harp.
I had no doubt the laughter from before was his. “I’ve been waiting so long to
meet you.”
    “Who
are you?” I asked ignoring his politeness and how he knew my name. He only
laughed again.
    “I
guess Vaze didn’t tell you about me yet,” He said as a coy charm danced around
in his eyes. He leaned closer, as if to make it more dramatic. “I am Velkire.”
    Realization
hit me hard and fast — really fast and unfortunately literally. Out of the
darkness, a new guest arrived. It was Enzio. The minute he saw me his hand shot
to my throat. Or rather, the minute I saw him I found his hand had shot
to my throat.
    “I’m
going to enjoy every moment of your death, you worthless rat,” He hissed into
my ear, hardly above a whisper. “I’m going to make sure you feel every grinding
second of it and go through as much pain as possible until your very last
breath leaves your body.”
    “Now
Enzio, can’t you tell she’s scared enough already?” Velkire said with a hint of
pleasure in his voice. He wagged his finger at him as if it were a joke. “If
she faints before she hears everything we’ll have to come back all over again.
And if my memory serves me right, you hate taking this form, so that would just
be a nuisance for you.”
    Enzio’s
eyes shot back to Velkire. A faint look of fear harbored in them as he looked
at the handsome man, as if his small joking was hiding some sort of vile
threat. I didn’t notice at the time though. I was too busy choking and turning
a slight shade of purplish blue that would have made blueberries proud.
    Enzio
released my neck and walked back to Velkire. Sweet air flooded back into my
lungs and when I had my fill of it, I looked back up at Velkire.
    Velkire
walked closer to me with curious eyes, poising his chin between his pointer
finger and his thumb in a way that may have very well been practiced.
“Fascinating,” He said in awe.  I tried to look like I was calm, also trying to
add the aura of not even having the least interest in him, when in reality I
was so scared I wanted to run away and hide in a hole. I