Blaze Lighters Novels & Stories

“Brat?” Isaac's eyebrows curled together as he witnessed the brewing fury swirling in his brother’s eyes. “What do you want, Isaac?” Vladimir snapped as He took out a cigar from his cigar case and lit it while fixing his brother with a stern gaze. “You look furious.” Isaac mentioned, crossing his hands to his chest. “And smoking in the middle of the night. You only smoke in anger, especially at this moment in time.” “Isaac. Just fuck off. I am in no mood to chat.”

"Yes, but it wasn't just that." Levi lowered his eyes, leaned back in the seat, took out a pack of cigarettes from beside him, took one out, and then opened the window. Levi was addicted to cigarettes, but I didn't like the smell, so he had quit years ago. Now, he expertly held the cigarette in his mouth, flicked open the metal cover of the lighter with his thumb, and in the night, a cluster of blue flames flickered gently, and then wisps of smoke drifted from his lips.

His elbow rested on the table, and his cold, black, bottomless eyes locked onto mine, and I knew what he wanted next. I peeled myself from the chair and reached for the Dupont lighter, a heavy, gold-plated one he only brought out when power was in session. I thumbed the cap open, and its click sliced through the silence. With both hands, I cupped the flame and leaned forward, watching the blue lick of fire kiss the bowl of his pipe. The scent was stronger as it instantly consumed me. I lit it for him without a word, holding the flame steady until he took the first drag like a long pull that hissed against his throat before he exhaled smoke in ribbons.

This was the point of no return. With a deep breath, he doused a rag and a small, discarded canvas board. He didn't want a real fire; he wanted smoke, panic, a system override. He placed the rag in a metal trash can, well away from anything that could truly ignite. His heart hammered against his ribs. This was it. He pulled a disposable lighter from his pocket—a contraband item he'd managed to acquire weeks ago. His thumb hovered over the striker. Now. He flicked it. A small flame sputtered to life. He touched it to the rag.

Blaze stood up to get a refill when her eyes got fixed on Cliterella, she focused on her and was now, confirmed that it was her. So, she comes to this bar. Nevertheless, the club was expensive. "Aye! Yo!" she heard Blair ordering to the waiter as he walked in her direction. Then she indicated him to light her cigarette up. She inhaled that grey stench, the odour that foretold of tar-infested lungs and her future death-bed. There was something rotten in her eyes as she took each drag as if she perversely lured on that morbid end to punish those who had caused her pain or the anger she was holding inside her.

And as soon as everyone heard my response, they all went back to doing their smutty business. “Oh, sorry.” The boy said and walked a few steps towards me. “Here,” He handed me the lighter, which I quickly noticed to be an Armor Jim Beam Zippo lighter. “Where did you stole this?” I asked, brewing with such curiosity. This is a crazy expensive lighter, and I doubt a kid like this guy could afford it not unless his parents are rich and they’re okay with him smoking cigarettes. “It’s my dad’s.” He answered. “You stole it from him?” I flipped it and lit my cigarette before eventually tossing it back to him, which he barely catches.

I explained. “Oh… that makes a lot of sense. Okay, sure, let me get mine out. Sage has some too, but they don’t have a lighter. Mom doesn’t trust them with fire.” River explained, putting their tablet down to get their incense out of the desk, handing it and a lighter to me. “Thank you, River. I’ll keep the lighter then.” I nodded, picking the most pungent incense stick. I set it up near the windows to ensure the smell would cover River’s scent if Dane came lurking around the windows.

“Wolfsbane, aconite, and powderize silver. It’ll kill most, and if not, it’s going to put them down on their ass for a few hours.” Without pause, she returns the cap, placing it inside the bag. Grabbing what looks like a and old school lighter, she holds it up, “looks and acts like a lighter.” Charity explains, flicking the flint. Both of us watch as a flame sparks. Blowing it out, she continues explaining the compact device. “Stand back,” she instructs, moving me to the side, double pressing the button next to the flint. A pressurized steel staff pops from the device. “The force from the pressure is to fatally injure someone.”

Like always, it still struck me stupid. He slipped a fresh joint between his lips, guiding my hand up to light it with my new gadget. His silver eyes held mine as he puffed, the end of the paper glowing deep orange. He turned to blow the smoke away from me and toward the exhaust vents. "It's also a fancy lighter." Mads released my hands, the hissing blade vanishing as soon as I released the button. I analyzed the unsuspecting tool. "Thank you, Mads. You didn't have to make me anything. I'll be fine."