Page 29 of Chasing the Flame
“I know what you said, but this is dangerous. They’re doing it again, goddamnit!”
My father narrows his gaze at me, “What’s with this sudden obsession?! You’ve never been one to lose your shit! Wasn’t the threat enough? I let that shit slide, when clearly, I shouldn’t have. Why are you so interested, anyway?”
I roll my eyes, swearing under my breath. Of course, he’d go there. “And what proof do you have? What evidence?” My father paces back and forth, frustration evident in how he clenches his jaw, occasionally rubbing his graying beard.
“Proof? Seriously?! Why are you assuming I don’t know what I’m talking about? I know what I saw!” My words are venomous, edged with a burning intensity that surprises me. I guess my feelings for Averie run deeper than I imagined. The thought has me gulping, suddenly apprehensive of my outburst. My father isn’t like my uncle or cousin, but will not tolerate blatant disrespect.
“It’s obvious you have an ulterior motive here…and son? You know I never do anything reckless, and I damn sure ain’t starting today. I suggest you start explaining and telling me the truth.” His words are like a slap, and the rage immediately falls away. He always has that effect on me, no matter how old I am.
Sighing, I say, “You didn’t see the marks on her…she’s fucking important! He’s been grooming her for fucking years from the looks of it. I don’t know why or what it is, but I’m drawn to her, and that fucker hurt her.”
He pauses, turning toward me with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So, Luke’s hurting someone we care about, is that what I’m hearing?”
Rage blasts through me again, “He’s going to kill her! I have zero doubts after the shit I found. I just don’t know what he stands to gain from this.”
He growls, “I bet I do, and nothing good will come of it.”
“It’s the same one, dad, the same damn spell…”
Dad sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “I think it’s time I had a conversation with my long-lost nephew.”
Snarling, I clench my fists at my side, but ultimately nod in agreement. It won’t do me any good to argue, not when he’s already made up his mind. If anyone knows how to handle Luke and this mess with the covenant, it’s him. He tilts his head, his brows furrowed in confusion. Whirling around he lets out a soft groan, “Fuck, I forgot about Lucy.”
“Looks like an obliviate spell is needed…” I chuckle, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the woman glaring at him.
He sucks in a breath, immediately muttering the release incantation for the silencing bubble. “Lucy, darling, I’m sorry. We were lost in discussion,” he says smoothly, reaching for her and wrapping her in his arms.
“What the hell’s going on?” She narrows her silvery-blue eyes, leaning out of his embrace and planting a hand on her hip.
My father smiles, staring deeply into her eyes before whispering, “Oblivio memorias.”
Lucy’s face softens, her eyes fluttering closed before collapsing in my father's waiting arms. Even after all this time, magic seems to come easily to him. “Well, now that she’s out, we better get down to business.” He says, gingerly placing Lucy on the dark brown leather couch. He turns, and I follow him down the hall to the one room I know will hold some answers—his altar room.
The wind is howling, and the sky darkens with each passing second. The temperature has dropped, and the perfect fall day quickly turns into a brutal storm. My hands grip the rails, my breath shallow, and Luke seems overly satisfied with my nervous behavior.
He’s gloating, though over what I can’t be sure. Jenny stands beside me, her hand rubbing gentle circles on my lower back, as if that will ease the anxiety clawing its way through my chest. I love the water, but I don’t like storms.
Storms make it dangerous, and in the right conditions, capsize you, sending you deep into the watery depths of hell.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know it’s a dream. A memory of a nightmare that I’ll never escape from, but it doesn’t stop the scene from playing out exactly how it happened. I hate this, the awareness, and the eventual failure to prevent the nightmare from playing again and again.
Then, the scene shifts, immediately pulling me back in.
We’re racing across the water, all ten of us, while Luke is at the wheel and manning the ship. It’s a standard Carver Mariner, one of the Blackthorne family favorites, and in my younger years, we took family trips across these waters. Now, our friend group and girlfriends sit beside us, ready to face the first round of initiation.
Today is different. It marks my twentieth birthday and a significant time in our family's legacy. Magic has always been a part of our blood, and tonight, under the full moon…
I’ll finally be accepted into the covenant, taking my rightful place beside Luke, becoming his right hand—The Ironthorne. Dad iswrongabout them. They’re not like what he said. Whatever differences Uncle Don and he have, they’ll work them out, and this will all blow over once and for all.
Oh, how wrong I was!
Flashes shift the scene, and I’m transported to an ancient dungeon underneath the Blackthorne residence. The musty scent of earth and decay fills my nostrils, and my robes scratch against my skin. Moss, cobwebs, and cracking stone fill the scene before me, and chains hang from one corner of the circular room. It’s chilling, and my heart’s racing in anticipation of what’s to come.
We waited until the hour before midnight to prepare, having slipped a sleeping draft into our girlfriend's drinks. We’re free to complete the ritual with them entirely out of it, and they’ll never be the wiser.
Rule number one: Humans cannot know.
Rule number two: When in doubt, use a sleeping draft.
