I frowned, thinking about Nat’s question. Electric arcs, whether lightning or between my fingers, were generally blue. It had to do with the temperature. The hotter it was, the bluer it was. White lightning—not moonshine—wasn’t actually a thing. Generally, any white associated with lightning was just light blue or as a result of gases in the atmosphere being ionized.
“I don’t feel any heat at all,” I said.
“How can that be?” Nat said.
“I look like an expert?”
“Most of the time I think you’re a moron, but you have a habit of having strange stuff happen to you.”
“Learn how to take a compliment,” she grinned, but it slipped as she leaned in looking intently at the arc.
“Don’t touch or you’ll be just like Jack.”
“God, that’s gotta be the worst fucking curse in existence,” Kate said.
“Only because you bunch of losers can’t handle my awesomeness,” Jack fired back. “It's a curse, really.”
“I’m sure you regularly handle your ‘awesomeness.’” Kate did the air quotes.
“Shh,” Nat hissed. “I think I can see something here. I don’t think this is lightning.”