The Strange Adventures of Rangergirl by Tim Pratt Read Free Book Online

said.”
    Alice smiled at that. “And there are lots of candles at my house, and hurricane lamps, shit like that. Having flames around relaxes me. It’s not like I’m a pyromaniac or anything. But lately . . .” She took a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, offered one to Marzi, took one for herself. She flipped open a filigreed silver Zippo and lit both cigarettes. They puffed for a moment, quietly. Marzi enjoyed the rush of nicotine, like having a balm rubbed on from the inside. Soothing.
    Talking to Alice is a lot different from talking to Lindsay,
Marzi thought. Lindsay was an onrushing torrent, while Alice . . . well, it wasn’t exactly like pulling teeth. More like waiting for molasses to run downhill. Steady, but slow.
    “I was riding my bike up in Oakland a few years ago,” Alice said. “During wildfire season. And there was a fire, a bad one. I saw it from the road. The flames came jumping up the hillside, crackling, like something alive . . . it was beautiful, but dangerous. Like a tiger.” She half-smiled. “Like a motorcycle. I sat on my bike and looked at the flames for a long time. Way
too
long. Wildfires are tricky. They can cross roads, catch the wind right, and go flying over a pretty good distance. I could’ve been trapped, burned. I should have hauled ass out of there, but I couldn’t seem to get motivated. I just watched the flames turning the dry grass into ashes, spreading, so fierce and wild and alive. I finally snapped out of it and rode away, didn’t get trapped, didn’t get hurt. People died in that fire. Not me, though. I was lucky.” She took a long drag.
    Marzi wasn’t sure what to say, whether she should say anything.
    “You know those signs up by the university, that say ‘Chance of Wildfire Today,’ and then ‘Low’ or ‘Moderate’ or ‘High’?”
    “Yeah.”
    “When I see it on ‘High,’ I think, ‘Maybe this’ll be the day. Maybe this’ll be the day I get caught in another fire.’ ” She glanced at Marzi. “Fucked up, huh?”
    “I think people have always been fascinated by fire,” Marzi said slowly. “From our earliest myths, even. Prometheus stole fire from the gods. So did Raven, according to some Native Americans. It’s dangerous and powerful stuff.”
    Alice seemed to visibly relax. “So you don’t think I’m obsessed?”
    Marzi laughed. “I don’t see any reason to think that, no.”
And I would know,
she thought.
I know about obsession.
    “The last time I was fire-dancing, I thought about swinging my firepots faster and faster, like a sling, and then just letting them fly, flinging them up into a tree and letting them burn everything. That freaked me out, a little—I could
see
myself doing that.”
    “But you didn’t do it.”
    “No. I guess you’re right. I didn’t.”
    “So you’re okay.”
    “Yeah,” Alice said. “Everybody thinks about weird shit, right? You’re only in trouble when you
do
something about it.”
    “That’s the way it seems to me,” Marzi said.
    “I’m glad I ran into you tonight.” Alice stood, then held out her hand for Marzi to shake. Alice’s hand was callused and firm—Marzi wondered, briefly, how it would feel to have those hands pass over her skin, touch her belly, her breasts. She wondered if Lindsay liked the feeling, if Alice touched her gently or roughly or both.
    When Alice Belle gets me horny, I know it’s been too long,
Marzi thought. “I’ll see you around. Give Lindsay my love, if you see her before I do.”
    “Sure thing,” Alice said. She walked toward the tree where she’d been standing when Marzi first saw her. She picked up something long and dark—a chain, with metal, spherical cages affixed to either end. Her firepots. She slung the chains over her shoulder, and waved good-bye.
    Marzi waved back, then dropped the remains of her cigarette and ground it out under her heel.

Smoke Out
----
    Beej hurried along the sidewalk on a street a few blocks from the heart of downtown