Burning for You (Blackwater) Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Where did that damn
cat come from?”
    “That’s Carlton,” I say.  “He’s
mine.”
    “Is he pregnant?” Isabel asks,
making me laugh out loud.  She goes to the counter and grabs a large handful of
paper towels and begins to wipe up the spill.  “I thought they only had cats
that fat in China.”
    “No, he’s just big boned, aren’t
you Carlton?” I coo at him.  Carlton looks annoyed.  I grab a can of cat food
out of my giant purple purse and pop it open and set it down on the floor
without bothering to find a bowl to put it in. 
    “What are you feeding him, Foie
Gras?” Isabel asks, naming my most favorite fattening French delicacy.  She trashes
the wet paper towels and bends over to stroke him from head to tail.  She’s hit
on Carlton’s favorite way to be petted, and he immediately warms up to Isabel,
turning away from the food and rubbing his self in a figure eight between her
legs. 
    “Wow, you distracted him from
eating,” I say.  “I didn’t think it could be done.”
    “Cats and I have an understanding,”
Isabel says.  “Right, Carlton?”  I can hear Carlton purring from across the
kitchen.  I’m astounded, but I get an idea.
    “Do you want to keep him at your
apartment?” I ask her.  “I can supply the food and litter and everything, but
as long as I’m living here, I don’t think my mother will tolerate him for very
long.  I’ll take him back when I move out.”
    Isabel shrugs.  “If it’s okay with
Carlton.”  We look and see Carlton lying on his back, belly in the air, almost
like an overweight Pug. 
    “I think it’ll okay with Carlton,”
I say.  “You’d be doing me a huge favor.  I appreciate it.”
    Isabel laughs.  “I’ve been cleaning
up your messes almost your whole life.  What’s one more?  Now back to what you
were doing.  Find that information.”  I nod and find my wallet somewhere in the
mess of my purse, between the cans of cat food and the crumpled receipts and
the countless empty inhalers and tubes of lip balm.  I find my notebook nestled
between a brochure that some religious fanatic gave me on the train about a
year ago and a magazine that’s from two years ago.  I make a mental note to
clean out my purse in an attempt to get my life in order, or just trash this
purse and get a new one.  I come back to the table and hand the notebook page
to Isabel, whose eyes widen.  “Ash Lavanne,” she whispers.  “Of course.”
    “You know him?” I ask her. 
    Isabel nods.  “Your mother always
knew that you possess the fire elemental.  Like your dad.”
    “So?” I ask.  “What’s so special
about fire?”
    “Fire allows you to change things
as they are,” Isabel explains.  “Fire elementals are the alchemists of the
crafting world.  You can build, destroy, create and damage.  It’s arguably the
most dangerous elemental there is.”
    “So Ash Lavanne,” I say.  “He’s a
fire elemental?”
    “He is,” Isabel agrees. 
    “How do you know that?” I ask her. 
    Isabel rolls her eyes.  “I know
everything,” she snorts.  “You should know that by now.”
    “Forgive me for questioning your
vast knowledge,” I say sarcastically.  “Listen, this is all well and good, but
I don’t know the first thing about crafting, I don’t know about fire and alchemy
and all of this stuff sounds like a dumb video game Michael used to ignore me
to play all night long.”
    “Your car,” Isabel interrupts me. 
“You changed the damage.  You fixed Betsey.”
    “That’s insane,” I say.  “I’m not a
mechanic.”
    “You’re a fire elemental,” Isabel
says.  “You don’t have to be a mechanic.”
    “But I didn’t do anything,” I say. 
“I didn’t touch Betsey.  I drove her here, parked her, and went inside.  I
haven’t been outside since I got here.”
    “You wanted her fixed, didn’t you?”
Isabel asks me.  I nod.  “Sometimes that’s all it takes.  A desire so strong,
it can change