Fire Novels Novels & Stories

After a tense silence, Thomas finally sounded utterly defeated. “That’s enough! Stop! The rescue team is already on the way! “Just… go around, don’t come this way.” I exhaled sharply and yanked the wheel, turning the car around. I had gambled right. However, moments of relief were immediately replaced by a wave of heat even stronger than before. Smoke burned in my lungs, and all I could hear was the relentless crackling of the fire. I fought to control the car, spinning through flames and smoke, gripping the wheel with every ounce of strength.

There were too many people, too many voices in his head and he just shut everything off. Malachi lay on his back and he saw Kiran engulfed in flames. His eyes were cold and unforgiving, like something had taken over. A man screamed and his eyes held so much fear and Malachi felt Death in the room with them. Another man started burning as Kiran yelled something at him. His screams were horrific but Malachi realized he felt nothing. Kiran was still safe and people around him were dying. Malachi looked into the barrel of a gun and the man’s eyes glazed over.

His body was charred by the fire. I pulled him into my arms. ​"Lucas! Look at me! We won!" I began to shake him. ​Lucas slowly opened his eyes. His irises were now a pale grey. He grabbed my hand. "Sophia... the gas... if it mixes with the air, everyone will die... you... you have to seal it..." ​"How?" I panted.

He set the untouched drink aside and reached for his coat. Fire had rules. Fire did not look back. Fire did not involve itself in accidents or strangers. But tonight, Fire had collided with something cold. And for reasons he couldn’t yet explain, Alexander Steele knew this was not just an incident. It was the beginning of something dangerous.

There was a fire place which they made in order to keep themselves warm. All of them where seen gathered around the fire like it was a committee of witches having their meeting, planning on a mission to devour. Each of them was putting on thick article of clothing to help the body warm faster. The cold was much like it was winter. It’s a known phenomenon that areas surrounded by water are most often cool especially the cool breeze that makes one thing that he or she was about to freeze. That’s because, during the day, the sun heats hard on the ground producing heat that helps warm the rivers, then at night, the river produced immense cool breeze that helps to keep the ground cold. It exhibit

She flicked out a match, and the line of accelerant caught with an overwhelming whoomph that blew back her hair in the force of air movement, creating a wall of flame between the Van Helsings and the alleyway. She leapt into the 4WD as it paused by her, still pulling the door closed as it took off down the road with a distressed squeal of tires. Gun fire cracked over the high-pitched screams of the burning zombies and the roar of flame, bullets sparking off the rear of the car, and Tom and Dan in the back seat cursed ducking instinctively as the rear window shattered. Sigrid twisted in her seat to look back at the street lit by fire, the zombies hanging from the streetlights still now, dripp

A fire is crackling there, fighting the damp chill of the sea air. I throw the box in. It lands on the logs. The white cardboard begins to brown. The tissue paper curls. Then the lace catches. It doesn't burn like normal fabric. It flares. Green and blue flames lick up the chimney. The smell of burning chemicals fills the room, sharp and acrid, choking out the smell of old books. Ciro coughs, covering his mouth with his arm. I don't move. I watch it burn. I watch the white turn to black ash.

I could flip him over and check his pockets, but I leave him where he is. "Flames going up," Nico says and tosses a burning lighter into a stream of gas. It catches fast and spreads, fire spouting all over in bursts and a dull roar as it hungrily eats the oxygen. The soldiers hurry out the door, followed by Nico and Gavino. I stand and hesitate, letting the heat twist the edges of the small hairs on my face. I want to take a deep breath and suck the burning black gas fumes into my lungs. I want to let it scar me and let the fire consume my flesh. I can burn here and now and end all this, but it's self-pitying bullshit, not real strength. Dying now won't save Fynn and it won't bring Clarissa

Flames roared to life, devouring wood and metal with insatiable hunger. The inferno spread greedily, orange tongues licking up walls, black smoke billowing into the sky like a signal flare to Alexei wherever he hid. Dante stood motionless, watching it burn, the heat searing his skin but doing nothing to thaw the ice in his veins. This was just the beginning. Alexei's backups, his suppliers, his allies, his hidden networks, would all feel the blaze. Every contact traced through Anton's leaked logs would be next: safehouses razed, convoys ambushed, lieutenants hunted down in their beds.

I feel whole again as I let a small flame dance over my fingertips. I can’t resist. I run outside and create the largest fireball I’ve ever made and throw it straight into the stream causing steam to rise from the surface, I’m back baby. I put on a well fitting pale blue dress that looks like it is made of ice, the back is covered. Not because of the cold but because I want Scott to think I'm still weak., I don't need to worry about the cold anymore, not now that my flames are back.