Page 61 of Chasing the Flame
It sounds like Jettson. Hope flares brightly in my chest, weaving its way through my body. It renews my strength, and I keep pushing, determined to find him. I don’t dare call out, because I can hear footsteps behind me, the thudding of their shoes. I can practically feel their breath down my neck. My heart drops to my ass. They’re right on my tail.
The voice is louder this time, more concerned and definitely Jettson.
My bare feet slap against the rocky ground, and I’m struggling to stay steady. I’ve slowed to a jog, and I can’t seem to move any faster.
I’m overheating, I can feel it with every step I take. But there is nothing on this goddamn green earth that is going to keep me from him.
This man has walked through fire for me, I can manage a few more steps. “Averie! Where are you?!”
He’s so close. I can feel it in my bones. The footsteps behind me get louder, and I take off running as fast as I can.
I’m burning up, literally from the inside out but I’m so close I can taste freedom.
In a split second that all changes.
I collide with a strong wall of muscle, and as my fingers graze their chest I instantly recoil. But…
It’s too late.
Rough hands grab me, and there’s a sharp sting in my neck. My eyelids drop instantaneously, my limbs equally heavy. And there, as a whisper…
“You can’t escape me.”
Jettson
Carson Plantation is lit up from the moonlight, the fog swirling in front of the house adding a haunting touch. My nerves are shot, and I’m ready to get this fucking over with.
“Where are they?” Dahlia whispers, nudging me for the thousandth time with her shoulder.
I huff in irritation. My fingers brush against the tags at my neck, and I rub the cool metal in an attempt to ground myself. It doesn't work immediately, but it does offer some relief.
Turning to my father, I whisper shout, “You said this was a founding home, is there a hidden basement?”
My Dad swipes a hand down his face, and gives me a disapproving stare. When he speaks, he doesn’t bother whispering. “With all the racket you two are making, they’ll have heard us from miles away! And no, it’s not a basement. It’s worse.” He sighs, glancing toward the house once more. “Come on, we have a bit of a hike and we should hurry. We need to head past the old building at the back of the house. The tree line there should lead us to the place.”
I don’t hesitate, following him at breakneck speed. Dahlia keeps in time with our pace, and for once is silent. Her hazel eyes glow in the moonlight, and the lethal look on her face mirrors my own.
We pass through the thicket of trees, and make our way to a small clearing. There are two paths to take, and the beast inside me is screaming that we need to go right. I take the lead, a silent order to follow.
I’m acting on instinct, rushing toward Averie, praying I’m not too late.
I see it in the next bend, a small cave entrance that would be easily overlooked. It’s not a particularly large mountain, more of a gigantic hill, and the entrance can’t be anymore than six feet tall, and four feet wide.
A growl builds in my chest, an ache centering there that nearly takes my breath. I go to move, to begin the treacherous journey to find her,but before I can my Dad grabs my arm. “Wait. It’s spelled. Give me a second.”
He works quickly, moving his hand in whirls and dips, spelling out intricate patterns in the air. It looks like he’s guiding an orchestra, and I guess in a way he kind of is. There’s a delicate process to curse breaking, but… he’s a damn good warlock. In under a minute he breaks it, moving toward the entrance to test his work.
Dahlia huffs impatiently, and for once, I don’t disagree. He waves an arm in front of the cavern, then steps through, waving signals for us to move forward.
We take off, and I follow my beast instincts, trusting him to lead me to her.
We take a winding set of tunnels, moving quickly but silently, pausing occasionally to listen for signs of a presence. It’s eerily quiet—too fucking quiet. Like the calm before a storm that knows it’s already won.
A flicker of movement catches my eye. I throw an arm out, halting Dahlia and my father. A shadow peels from the wall—no, two. Cloaked figures in obsidian that seem to whisper like shadows. Fucking warlocks.
They move with precision, their steps silent, but my beast hears them. Feels them.
I lunge forward without a word, claws tearing from my fingers mid-swing as I slam into the nearest one. He’s fast, but I’m faster. Rage sharpens my every move. He grunts, blocking my strike with a shimmering ward, but it cracks under the weight of my fury. I drive him back, tearing into flesh before spinning on the second.
