The Echo of Flames

Red flames danced before Rory's eyes. A waltz of destruction and rage. Rory felt every spark, every crackle as book after book crumpled and turned to ash, her memories going with them. A quiet evening, the pitter-patter of raindrops against concrete outside the large bay window. Rory cuddled up against her mother as she was read a story about fairies, dragons, castles, and princesses. Early mornings before school, when she sat in that same window, missing her mother, writing her own stories or reading mysteries that she could solve, maybe to make up for the one she couldn't.

Now she watched as that window shattered into pieces, scattering as the flames licked away at every piece of her childhood.

Red and blue lights filled her periphery as the rest of her team conferred with firefighters and EMTs. The EMTs would not be needed, she knew. No one would be left alive. He would never make that mistake again.

Eyes focused on the slowly dying fire, Rory only distantly acknowledged the man who came to stand next to her.

"Agent Perkins."

Rory finally broke from her trance and glanced over to see Deputy Director Johnson standing next to her, dark brows furrowed at her in concern. His usual slicked-back salt and pepper hair was in ruins. Strands pointed in every direction from hands running through it many times. His suit was rumpled, not nearly as pristine as he usually is. Stress is evident in the creases on his forehead and the squint of his eyes.

"This wasn't an accident." Johnson didn't ask. He didn't need to. He knew the truth, just as Rory did. Just as everyone in the FBI did.

"No, Sir." was all she said. No explanation was necessary. The marking that had been seen on the window before it shattered has been etched like a tattoo in Rory's head since she was a child. Since the first body she had ever seen.

This was not an accident.

This was arson. Murder. Revenge.

This was HIM.

Chills raked down Rory's spine, sensing someone was watching her. She turned abruptly, finding nothing but shadows and smoke. She knew he was watching, though. Waiting to see what she would do. If she was ready to break.

The Red Spider was patient.

Rory would know. He has been taunting her for ten years. Ever since the day he murdered her mother. The day he left her as an orphan. He was calculated. Organized. And even though arson was a first for him. He knew exactly what to do. He knew exactly what button to press on Rory's ever-dwindling sanity.

Destroy her safe place. Destroy her soul.

Then kill her.

Rory turned back to her only safe haven, now nothing but rubble. Straightening her spine, she walked into the doused shop. Charred bodies lay near the door, as if they had nearly made it out. Hope. They died with hope. Rory closed her eyes for a moment, pushing away the tears that threatened to fall. She would not let him see her cry.

Among the bodies and burnt pages of books, Rory noticed the black box sitting in the very center of the rubble. Untouched by the fire.

With a hand on her gun, she inched toward the box, kneeling before it as she reached into her pocket for a glove. There was no lock on the box, only the words "Agent Perkins" etched on the top. A gift for her. Using her glove, she slowly opened the box, checking for wires or a transmitter even though she knew there wouldn't be. This is not how he would kill her. Too impersonal. Too easy.

Sitting inside the box was a single item. Held together by twine and construction paper, as if it were made by a child, and covered in blood, sat a book.

With shaking hands, Rory lifted the book from the box and stared at the cover. Taking a deep breath, she turned the page. Then another. And another. Her breathing became ragged with each word she skimmed. She felt the color drain from her face with every detail.

After flipping to the end, Rory stood up abruptly, her vision blurry, her ears ringing. Muffled voices were around her, calling her name but she didn't care. When she felt a hand on her shoulder, the world came back into focus. But instead of speaking or crying, she turned toward the shadows in the night.

And she screamed.

She screamed so loudly that every firefighter, every EMT, every officer, every agent went silent. The sound that came out of her was full of grief. Full of rage. And she couldn't keep it in any longer.

Rory screamed until she could no longer breathe. Until she had no voice left. Then, without looking at anyone, she held the book out to the nearest agent, walked to her car, and drove away.

It wasn't until she had driven so far that she couldn't see the smoke in her rearview that she let herself cry. Let herself break down for only a minute. One minute to grieve. One minute to remember.

After her minute, she dried her tears with her sleeve, steeled herself, and floored it to the office, replaying everything that she had just read and feeling the ire rise up in her like a phoenix.

Because every chapter in that book was handwritten, representing each year in her life. Everything she did. Everyone she met. Every accomplishment. Every case. Details no soul knew but her. And at the end of the book, in a chapter called "Gallery of Souls," there was page after page of photographs. Polaroids of bodies. Her mother. Her friends. Her relatives. Ex-boyfriends. Each has a date underneath and details of how they died. How long it took. Quotes of their last words. Their blood was used to draw red spiders on every page.

He seemed to think this would be her breaking point. That this would kill her inside just enough. That was his miscalculation. Maybe The Red Spider didn't know Rory as well as he claimed he did.

Because this would not break Aurora. Loss and anger and pain do not weigh her down, but instead push her forward. They make her stronger, not weaker.

But that is not why a small smirk rested on Rory's face as she drove. No. Rory smiled because The Red Spider made an even bigger mistake. He showed his hand. He didn't do this just to taunt Rory.

He was in love with her. It was evident in the words he wrote and the metaphors he used. He didn't just want to separate her from her team to kill her. He wanted to keep her.

And that was something she could work with.

Rory will catch The Red Spider, and she will die before she lets him take her soul. Or her life.