The Shimmers in the Night by Lydia Millet

white dabs of dressing on his beard.
    â€œBut I have a question about something I saw? In a—I guess it was a vision?”
    â€œGo on,” said Mrs. O.
    â€œSpill it,” said Mr. Trujillo.
    â€œSo the vision was—well, I saw this man in a subway train, and it seemed to me he was following me. We were alone in the subway car. I have this ring my mother gave me, and when I looked at him and touched the ring, he opened his mouth…”
    The teachers were both waiting, gazing at her.
    â€œâ€¦and it looked like there were these flames in there.”
    Mr. Trujillo let his fork hand rest on the edge of the table, the lettuce sticking out and trembling a bit.
    Mrs. O put her wine down and swallowed.
    â€œA vision of a Burner,” she said quietly.
    Mr. Trujillo raised his napkin with his free hand and patted at his beard.
    â€œA Burner?” asked Cara.
    â€œThey used to be called fire-eaters,” said Mr. Trujillo, nodding. “They were made by the Cold, some time ago. They’re part of his army. He was in England first, you know. That is, his army operated there. Birmingham, England, in the 1740s. Paul and Wyatt—”
    â€œBirmingham?” echoed Cara.
    She had no idea what he was talking about.
    â€œIt was all his work, you see…hie was behind it all. The first mills, the first seeds of what would be a worldwide movement toward the massive use of coal. The poet William Blake wrote about it. Those dark Satanic mills…”
    â€œYou’re being obscure, Glen,” said Mrs. O. “As usual. She won’t know anything about that. They probably haven’t even gotten to the Industrial Revolution in her history class yet. Nor is she ready , Glen, for our…particular take on it.”
    â€œLater, in the 1850s,” went on Mr. Trujillo, holding his napkin out in front of him and apparently studying the food smears upon it, “they were also linked to some people in the South who were extremists in support of slaveholding for tobacco and cotton. Who helped get the Civil War started, in fact. Although that was only a side project, basically a hobby, for the most part—”
    â€œGlen’s point is, they’ve been around for a long time,” interrupted Mrs. O brusquely. “And that’s only possible because they’re not, in fact, human.”
    â€œThey’re like the Pouring Man, then?” said Cara. “Elementals?”
    â€œYes,” said Mrs. O. “That’s exactly right. The Burners are fire elementals.”
    â€œI thought I might have—that it might just have been one of these visions that I get,” said Cara. “Like when I saw wings on you. But they weren’t really physical wings. Were they?”
    In the corner of the kitchen, someone clanged a pot, and it rang out in the stillness.
    â€œSorry to disappoint. The Burners’ flames are real,” said Mr. Trujillo.
    The other teachers were definitely listening now. Most had even stopped eating, though some still lifted their wine glasses and sipped. It made her a bit nervous.
    â€œThe humanoid forms they take are just camouflage. They need a certain amount of heat to manifest, and they also give it off” went on Mr. Trujillo. “In a pinch they can use flammables instead of an open flame—the gas in the tanks of cars, for instance, or lighters or some kinds of alcohol.…”
    â€œThey carry whole microclimates with them,” said Mrs. O. “So usually you feel them before you see them.”
    Cara remembered the heat of the subway car. At the time she’d thought it must be what always happened, that when the train stopped maybe the air-conditioning shut down… But wait: If the Burner had been real, what did he want with her?
    Another teacher spoke sharply from the end of the table—the East Indian woman. She had her hair braided up on her head and a dark red spot between her