Chapter 49: Fostering The Flame

--- Zoey Smith ---

She held her stuffed bear close as the car came to a stop in front of what looked like a church surrounded by a black metal fence. Not the kind of place she thought would make for a good home…

(If you don’t like it… I can burn it down and they’ll get you a new one?) Her stuffed animal whispered, its voice like the warm crackling of a fire that only she could hear.

She didn’t think this place would make a good home, (but maybe it’s the home I deserve…)

“This isn’t filling me with confidence.” Kelly told their case worker as they sat in the car.

“I’ll admit his home is a little… unorthodox but it doesn’t change our situation or his qualifications.” The case worker argued.

“Will there even be a room for us here?” Kelly scoffed. “Because this place does not look like somewhere a kid like Zoey should live.”

(See even your caretaker does not like this place, if you won’t burn it for you, perhaps you’d burn it down for her?) Her toy asked, growing warmer in her arms.

“No, no, no…” She whispered to the bear, not wanting Kelly to hear her and get even more upset about their situation.

“You know we don’t have many options.” The case worker sighed, before giving Kelly a pleading look as she got out of the car. “Can you, can you least meet Mr. Ochoa before you judge him like this?”

“I guess…” Kelly frowned, clearly not liking the idea even as she opened the door for Zoey.

(You could make that frown disappear, you know?) The stuffed animal pointed out, as the ever present flames on the edge of her vision began to grow.

Ever since the fire the older girl had been a lot more protective of her than she had before, something that Zoey guilty loved because…

(All you have to do is let me-)

Kelly took her hand, wrapping it in a coolness so much unlike the warmth pouring off of her bear, enough so that the toy went silent so long as the older girl was touching her. The only break she got from her constant vigil against the flames she was holding back.

The older girl gave her a soft smile as she buried herself into Kelly’s side, seeking what comfort she could away from the monster in her doll.

“Hey, it’s okay. I know new homes are always scary, but I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Kelly promised, her eyes turning an icy blue as mist escaped her.

“There’s no need to worry her.” Their case worker scolded from behind Kelly as the older girl’s eyes returned to normal. “Mr. Ochoa is a perfectly good man, and will make a fantastic foster father for both of you.”

“We’ll see…” Kelly scoffed, letting Zoey’s hand go.

(Don’t worry… If she can’t protect you, I can.) Her stuffed animal assured her with a glee that only made her worry more.

--- Reymundo Ochoa ---

“What pendejo is knocking on my door this early?” He growled, feeling static fill the air for a moment as his anger slipped for a moment.

Catching himself, he inhaled before exhaling and pulling back the power he’d been given by his Lady in his hour of need as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s probably just that niño from the other day… No need to go segador on him… unless he’s made another mess of necromancia.”

The knocking that had awoken him from his slumber started up again, and he pulled the door open with more force than he would’ve if he’d actually gotten any sleep in the last week. “What?!”

He immediately regretted that as he saw the trio of chicas on his doorstep to jump, something that made him grimace when he noticed just how little one of them was. (Mierde…) “Sorry…”

The teenage girl of the trio glared at him with a coldness that seemed to spread into the very air itself, something that anyone with an ounce of understanding would spot for the magic it was.

“Do you… need help?” He asked, figuring that was the reason these three were on his doorstep if one of them was a Deviant. (Though these three don’t look related in the slightest…)

“R-right, you’re Mr. Ochoa, I presume?” The woman in a business suit of sorts asked.

“Sí.” He nodded as he leaned against the wall in an attempt to seem less threatening to the little one who was holding onto her stuffed animal with a notable level of fear. “What can I do for you?”

“Um, several years ago you took in Frankie Campbell and Harper Everette as your foster daughters, correct?” The woman checked, still a little shaken as she went over her clipboard.

“Yeah, though uh, Frankie prefers Farewell, it’s her mother’s name. She changed it like a month after she moved in.” He corrected, not bringing up how the girls had technically tricked him into moving his second daughter in all but blood in.

“Oh, I was wondering why she had two names but didn’t have the time to-” The woman in the suit shook her head. “Sorry, that’s off topic. I’m sure you’re aware of the… difficulties the city has been facing these past couple of months?”

He looked up at the golden cracks in the sky visible from just about anywhere in the city. “Yep.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Well, due to the… fires from a few weeks ago a number of people are currently without homes.” The woman continued, uncaring for his dry wit. “Including a number of children from within the foster system.”

He frowned sympathetically. “Oh, that’s-” His eyes went wide as they darted to the two girls on his doorstep. “Oh, that’s…” (Fuck, don’t tell me…)

“Yeah…” The woman nodded with a grimace, realizing that he’d put it together. “Given how you are registered within our system as a foster parent and how your home was outside of the more damaged areas in the city, we were hoping that you would be willing to-”

“No bueno.” He interrupted.

The woman blinked before giving him a frown. “Once more take in-”

“Uh-uh.” He interrupted again. “I am a terrible choice to foster children. Especially as things are.”

“Look, I know this isn’t the ideal time with everything going on.” The woman sighed, beginning to look frustrated, “But both Ms. Farewell and Ms. Everett had nothing but good things to say about you in their exit interviews, so we know that you’ll make a fantastic foster father for these girls.”

“They only like me so much because their families were mier-” He glanced at the eight year old. “-ky at best. I mean, Harper ran away and Frankie forged my signature to get me custody. You get that, I didn’t even realize I had custody until she’d been here for like six months!” Admittedly, he was kind of proud that they pulled that off without him but, “That is a clear sign that I am not responsible enough to have kids here. And if not that, then what about the fact that I live in an abandoned church that I got from an alcoholic old man because I used to sneak into the cemetery to impress my girlfriend who was into ghosts and… things.”

The woman clearly wasn’t sure how to take his little rant, (and I’m okay with that as long as she takes the kids with her.)

Honestly, he actually knew that he was a pretty good parent, if -ignoring how Frankie and Harper visited him for father’s day- because half of his father figures had told him so. It was just that given how he was spending every night hunting hundreds of Creeps across the city and how he was pretty sure some of them were hunting him, his home was not the kind of safe place a child should grow up in right now. (And this Cracked sky shit could go on for months if we’re really fucked!)

“If he doesn’t want us, we can’t force him to let us stay.” The teenager cut in.

Oh, they absolutely could. (She clearly missed the part about Harper and Frankie doing just that.)

The woman gave the teenager a frustrated glare before turning to him with a pleading look. “Mr. Ochoa, you have to be aware of the… problems that the foster system has when it’s working properly, let alone the kind we’re dealing with now. I implore you to please reconsider. These girls they, they need a good home and your other foster children insist that you can give them that home.”

“Not now I can’t.” He disagreed, knowing that they were currently standing less than a hundred feet from a Necro Nexus that regularly spawned feral undead that had broken into his house on more than one occasion. (I am so lucky that Harper was a heavy sleeper.)

“Mr. Ochoa-”

“No.” He growled, losing control for only a brief moment as he caused all three of his guests to jump once more. With another ounce of guilt he inhaled and exhaled before saying, “Look, I’m not the kind of person you should be leaving these girls with. I’m sorry.”

“I see…” The woman told him with no small amount of disappointment. “Come on girls, let’s- Zoey?”

--- Ignacious, The Voracious Flame ---

He had spent weeks biding his time, his patience steadily growing thinner and thinner as he was held inside of the prison that his young summoner had bound him to after unwittingly unleashing him upon this plane. His hunger for devouring this plane as he had several others, merely whetting his appetite for the feast that was to come.

(A feast that I have been robbed of!)

Ever since that first night where she summoned him, and he simply did what he was always summoned to do -feast, devour, and most importantly burn the world- she had seen fit to stuff him inside of this insufferable prison rather than simply dismissing him back to his proper plane of existence. (An insult that shall not stand!)

At first he’d almost been willing to let her go, to be the survivor of his latest cataclysmic feast upon the material world. Especially given the fact that he could feel that she was a kindred spirit of the flame, a soul that simply wished to watch the world burn on a beautiful pyre like no other.

That sentiment had died the moment she bound him to a, a, a child’s plaything.

She was going to burn alongside the rest of her city for that.

Normally, escaping a prison such as this would’ve been easier child’s play than his current vessel had ever been put through, but somehow the child was able to consistently reinforce his prison in such a way that he could not simply devour the prison and free himself.

Which is why he’d had to take to subtler arts of manipulation than he’d ever bothered with before. Constant attempts to get the girl to lower her guard, a single instance of emotional weakness, one just long enough for him to free himself and unleash hell upon this mortal world that should consider itself lucky that a being such as he saw fit to turn it into food.

And at long last that moment had come. Finally the girl’s control had weakened enough that it could escape and devour her like the pathetic whelp that she was, alongside that infernal ice witch that had unknowingly reinforced his prison whenever the girl’s control had begun to slip.

Bit by bit, the bear began to burn to beautiful cinder and ash as his hungering flames readied to burst for and devour this bountiful world, leaving behind nothing but a charred husk of- A hand clamped down on the head of his prison.

“Don’t worry mija, there’s nothing you need be afraid of.” A gruff but kind voice promised.

He felt his prison being lifted by someone other than his summoner and warden, someone he’d never seen before today.

“That said, me and your little amigo here, we’re going to have a little… chat about playing nice.” The voice explained as a second scarred hand reached out and ruffled his summoner’s hair.

His prison was turned to meet a pair of golden eyes, and all the while his immortal mind could only process the one looping thought that had been running through his head since the thing in front of him had turned its attention his way.

(I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.)

“I’m sure it’ll be very educational. Won’t it, little amigo?”

(I’m going to die!!!) He whimpered.