Brian swallowed thickly. His chest hurt, like he’d run a mile at break-neck speed. The car frame was hot on his back, the pavement warm under his boots. But that shadow of her hand, that not-quite-touch, was nice and cool, an icy sensation that should have shocked him the way of bucket of water would, but instead reminded him of his mother’s cold fingers on his feverish skin.

“I’m not good at control.”

But getting better, his inner voice said. A month ago, Brian would’ve broken the glass out of the windows, ripped the antenna off the car and sent it whipping through the air. Now nothing happened except a vibration, subtle as the frame of a house trembling while a freight train rolled by. His hands remained in his pockets.

Looking into her face, Brian remembered being fourteen and pinned in a corner by a girl he had daydreamed about. Kim. Knees knocking, body reacting out of fear and excitement and tongue-thickening dread, while she leaned in smelling of fruit flavored lip gloss.

But Elfleda’s lips were black, and this wasn’t teenage flirtation. It was danger. He didn’t know what kind, but he sensed her power in the air. “What do you want?”