Caleb Danvers

It took Caleb most of the way through the rest of Harvard to be able to watch Pogue's hands sliding over chocolate skin with anything remotely resembling equanimity, and the main reason for that wasn't even jealousy.

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He couldn't find Chase, among the flames.

It didn't matter. He could see Sarah. Sarah, whom Chase had come this close to killing. So close, really, that if Caleb didn't reach her and take her out now, he would succeed.

It was a balance. The flames were feeding his power and drying out his body, choking down his lungs. But he could heal himself enough to deal with that.

And then they were out in the rain, and she was alive, and it would be alright. The world was aglow, patterns and swirls and power lines all around him. The rain. The storm. Her beating heart. The houses he could not see; the towns that his mind knew were there. The people in them.

Power and rain. Exhilaration.

( Pain. )