Through the Fire (Daughter of Fire Book 1)

by Michelle Irwin

  Aiden wrapped his arm around me as I nodded again. “Do you believe that he loves you in return?”

  “I don’t know,” I muttered as I nestled into his shoulder and allowed my tears to flow freely. “When he first left, I would have said yes without a doubt. He told me so often enough. But now . . . it’s been more than two years. What might have changed in that time?”

  “Is he the reason you’d given up when I found you?”

  Shaking my head, I wiped my tears with the back of my hand. “He was the reason I lasted as long as I did before I gave up.”

  Aiden asked a few more questions about Clay, showing a genuine interest in finding out more about the boy who’d stolen my heart. Aiden asked about Clay’s family and about the reason behind our separation. It seemed as though he wanted to help me reunite with Clay.

  “I brought this for you from the kitchen,” Aiden said, holding up a bagged sandwich. “I had thought you might have been hungry after skipping dinner. Of course, I was not aware then that you intended to say goodbye. You should still have it though. Who knows when your next meal might be otherwise?”

  He held it out to me, and I shook my head. “I can’t take that. If I’m leaving here, I need to have a clear head. I can’t have any more enchanted food.”

  “When did you last eat?” he asked.

  “Breakfast.”

  “Then you probably only have a few hours’ worth of enchantment left at most,” he said, sounding worried by the prospect.

  “I know.” After the first time the enchantments had worn off, on North Brothers Island, I’d conducted some experiments. Since then, I’d come to learn exactly how long I could go between eating enchanted food. I actually had less time than he thought. Because of the energy it took to keep my body heated, my fast metabolism burned through the enchantments quicker than most. I would be lucky to make it through the conversation and get back outside before the effects wore off entirely.

  “Take this with you,” he said, pulling a smooth stone with a small hole in the middle from his pocket and pressing it into my palm.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It is a seeing stone. It is infused with fae magic, if you look through it, you will be able to see our world.”

  “Why didn’t you just give this to me when we first met?”

  “You can only see the world, you cannot join it like you are able to with the enchantments in our food. Take the stone. If you change your mind in the next few weeks, you will be able to find your way back home to us.”

  Shaking my head, I placed the cool, smooth stone onto my bed. “I’ve enjoyed my time here, I really have. It’s helped me to heal in ways I never imagined possible. But it was never really my home,” I said softly. “And I won’t be coming back.”

  Although I couldn’t explain my logic to Aiden, I was certain I was saying a permanent goodbye. Once I left, I would hunt for Clay until I found him. If he still loved me in return, if there wasn’t already a wife, kids, god knows what else with someone else, we could start our life together. If he didn’t . . . well, I probably wouldn’t survive long enough to return to the court anyway.

  Standing, I pulled my bag from the side of the bed where it was resting, already packed and ready to go.

  Aiden stood in front of me, blocking my path for a moment. “Are you confident about this course?” he asked quietly.

  Reaching my hand up, I stroked his cheek gently. I honestly owed him more thanks than I was offering him, but there was nothing that could stop me from leaving any longer. My self-delusion that I could be happy with Aiden had run its course. All that remained was hope for a reunion with Clay. I was stronger now than I had been before. I could only hope Clay would be too. Together, maybe we could stand a chance against the world.

  Rubbing my thumb gently along Aiden’s cheekbone, I pressed my mouth against his in one final goodbye kiss.

  Unlike the goodbye kisses Clay and I had shared, there were no tears of regret or sorrow. No hint of promises to come. Rather than lingering as neither person was willing to be the first to give up, it was a proper goodbye kiss: swift and sure. Over almost before it started. I stepped away from Aiden and swept from the room—and from the court—before I could second-guess my judgment.

  By the time I reached the street and turned back to look at the fae building resting on the East Meadow of Central Park, the last of the fairy enchantments were wearing off. Standing on the pathway facing what had been my shelter from the world for just over ten months, I watched as it faded away from my vision.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THREE MONTHS after I’d left the court, I was lost.

  At first, I followed Clay’s statement in Charlotte when he’d said that Louise would already be back in New York. At the time, I hadn’t paid too much attention to his words, but now that I was on my own, it was the only solid lead I had.

  I spent a month scouring the streets, listening for any information about mysterious deaths or anything that sounded as if it could be Rain related. A few times, especially when I was close to Central Park, I could have sworn I was being followed, but whenever I turned around, I was always alone. I’d initially planned to try to follow trails of odd murders and strange activities, but it was getting me nowhere. I had no way of knowing which deaths had a logical explanation behind them and which were linked to something more sinister. The fact that I’d been framed as a suspect when my father was killed proved that the Rain had control over the media and could cover their tracks.

  After too many weeks of no solid leads, I was close to giving up, but then I saw an article on the front page of a newspaper. It wasn’t the headline about a hero who’d saved eight people from a burning yacht that caught my eye. Instead, it was the photo that accompanied the article of the hero in question, topless as he appeared to wave off thanks. What drew my instant attention were the thick black lines of the tattoo on the hero’s collarbone. A dove. The exact same dove as the one that hung around Clay’s neck.

  I scoured the paper for any details about where he might be, but the article only mentioned Ipswich Bay, Massachusetts. It may have been stupid, and slightly suicidal, to chase random Rain operatives in order to find Clay, but it was the only lead I had. If I could somehow disguise myself enough to approach him, I could ask if he knew Clay or his family. I was so excited by the possibility that I left New York immediately. It took almost a week to get to Ipswich Bay.

  In the end though, I didn’t need a disguise because all leads to the man vanished.

  When I arrived in Ipswich Bay, I found a follow-up article from two days prior with information that hadn’t made it to New York before I left. The more recent article spoke of the sudden disappearance of the mystery hero.

  Disappointment flooded through me. I’d put so much faith in something that had disappeared. And it isn’t even the first time.

  I didn’t know what to do next. Where to look or what to do. If I revealed my true nature, I had no doubt I would have Rain operatives swarming the area in days. Yet they were so adept at blending in that it was impossible to find the one I wanted more than anything else.

  How do you find someone that doesn’t want to be found? Someone with access to cover up every death and disappear without a trace?

  At least when he’d been looking for me, Clay’d had access to a myriad of computer programs and databases to help him. I just had me. I barely had any money, just whatever I could siphon from a small pile of credit cards I’d reluctantly stolen from unknowing victims. Each time I used one, the risk of being caught increased. Even though I’d survived for a little while without returning to any shelters or the court, I really had no idea what I was doing.

  Trying to avoid using the cards except in emergencies, I’d taken to hiding out in reserves and national parks. The knowledge Dad had shared with me was finally able to shine. I’d learned that I was quite adept at fishing, hiding, and camping.

  I was on my way back to New York, hiding among th
e huge hardwood trees in Breakheart Reserve near Saugus, Massachusetts, when I was interrupted.

  “Lynnie!”

  Looking around for the source of the feminine voice, I spied a flash of green between the trees. I dragged myself out of the little nook I’d found between two twisted tree trunks and followed the sound.

  “Lynnie?” Whoever was calling for me spoke again.

  I turned, glanced around and saw her. Willow. She stood in the middle of the hiking path a few dozen yards from where I’d been hiding.

  “Willow?” I asked as I closed the distance between us. “What are you doing here? Why are you looking for me?”

  She smiled at me, each of her perfect white teeth glimmering in the muted sunlight. “Aiden thinks he might have found him.”

  My heart stopped at her words. Aiden had found Clay? “How?”

  “The same way we found you,” she said as she shook out her long corn-silk hair. “We have scouts and spies all over. Some not in the form you’d expect. Aiden asked for anyone to come forward for increased Rain activity. There’s something big going down tonight in Salem.”

  “Salem?” I repeated. “Salem, Massachusetts?”

  She grinned.

  “That’s just a few hours walk from here.” My voice was a low whisper as I realized that if the information Willow was giving me was even partly right, I might see Clay in a few short hours. My stomach leaped and twisted. My mind reeled.

  Despite looking for him for so long—or maybe because of it—the thought that he might be just a few hours east was enough to make me want to launch myself in that direction and run as fast as my legs would carry me.

  I had to be cautious though. It was a big enough city that we could easily cross paths and never see each other.

  “Lynnie,” Willow said, glancing around her cautiously. “I just wanted to add that I’m sorry if you were hurt or left because of my actions.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t be. It was exactly the catalyst I needed to do this. Who knows how long I might have made excuses not to leave otherwise.”

  “I’m glad. From what Aiden has told me, what you feel for this Rain is very strong.”

  I nodded. “I just hope it’s strong enough,” I confided.

  AS I WALKED the cobblestone streets in Salem, I wasn’t comfortable. Among the milling tourists, I felt exposed and unprotected.

  It had been so long since I’d willingly ventured into a crowd. Even while searching for Clay in Manhattan, I’d moved through alleys and avoided the more crowded areas. I’d grown increasingly agoraphobic as small groups of people jostled around me, vying for their place on the path. Some were tourists, their cameras always at the ready. Others were there in a more official capacity, dressed in period costume as they strolled along the streets, giving directions and offering assistance.

  Just as I was about to give up and head for the safety of a deserted alleyway, he was right in front of me. I couldn’t believe it, despite how impossible it might have been, I was almost positive it had been Clay I’d seen from across the street, about to walk into the Witch History Museum. I was certain it was him.

  Isn’t it?

  The one thing that made me doubt myself was the tension that seemed to constantly invade my body from just being in this town. Everything I saw was another warning of how nonhumans were treated. The witches were ridiculed from shop windows, effigies with hook noses and green skin hung in open displays. It was more than a little surreal seeing Clay—whose family was top of the nonhuman hating list—right in front of me among so many reminders of the Witch Trials of the late 1600s.

  If only they’d actually ended then.

  My heart pounded as I stared at the dark-haired man I thought could be Clay.

  Had I imagined him?

  Were my eyes, and my heart, playing tricks on me?

  After two years of silence he couldn’t be right in front of me, could he? It couldn’t have been that easy. Everything flooded back to me, every minute of our time together. My body ached to be held in his arms again. The unseen threat among the throng of people was the only thing that kept me locked in place.

  A thousand questions leaped into my mind as soon as he took another step closer to the building. What’s he doing here? Does he know I’m looking for him? Where is his family?

  In the years since I’d last seen him, the lean bulk he’d had on his wiry frame had firmed into a collection of well-defined muscle. Everything about him screamed strong and protective. His clothes, a faded black leather jacket and once-black denim jeans, were clearly well-loved and road-wearied. I wondered whether he’d been on the road for as long as I had.

  He stood at the door and took one last glance into the street. Even though it was only the slightest glimpse, I studied his face intently. Almost-black scruff littered his jaw and framed his bowtie pout. The gash that had rested just above his cheekbone had healed into a slightly puckered scar just below his eye. While he surveyed the crowd, he raised a hand and scratched his fingers along his chin.

  Just as my doubt over whether it was Clay peaked, his gaze fell on me. In that instant, I knew. It was his eyes that convinced me that it wasn’t a case of mistaken identity. They widened slightly in shock as he stared at me through the throng of shoppers and sightseers. With a narrowing of his eyes, he turned away.

  I followed his gaze and finally spotted his brother a few yards from him. When Clay turned back to me, it was clear that he recognized me despite the thread-worn hoodie I wore over my hair that obscured part of my face. His eyes still held a tenderness in them as they held mine captive, despite the years that had obviously hardened his body.

  In the moment after our eyes had met, the corners of his lips tugged up into a small smile. It wasn’t the smile of a predator—not one of a hunter who’d spotted his prey—but one of someone remembering a long-forgotten dream. I half expected him to break out into a run and take me into his arms. Instead, the smile fell from his face to be replaced by something more melancholy. An instant later, he’d turned and headed into the museum.

  Watching him walk away, I remembered passing the Hawthorne Hotel not too far back and thought it would’ve been a perfect place for a reunion attempt away from prying eyes, if only I could think of some way to let Clay know about it. I’d stopped walking for a moment as I’d paused to consider my options. A woman in a black dress and white bonnet walked up to me to ask if I needed any assistance. I smiled as a plan formulated instantly in my mind, all to do with the hotel’s namesake.

  “Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?” I asked.

  Although she gave me a strange look, she passed me a flyer and a pen. I’d quickly jotted down a phone number that I’d memorized when I was on my own in the months after he left, one belonging to a church in Arizona.

  “My boyfriend just went into the Witch History Museum over there and I want to surprise him when he comes out,” I said, raising my eyebrow in what I hoped appeared a suggestive manner. “Can you please pass him this note and say these words to him, ‘The number written will be beneath Washington’s griffin on the eve of the fire. Meet me at Nathaniel’s house.’ He’ll know what it means.”

  Once she nodded—still looking at me like I’d grown a second head—I gave her a description of Clay and passed her the last of my money as a thank you.

  After passing on my instructions, I practically sprinted back to the Hawthorne.

  Circling the hotel, I checked for any and all possible escape routes. Once I saw the split roof of the hotel, I figured that if I booked into certain rooms the roof might offer me an exit—even if it wasn’t an easy one. Once I’d determined the perfect room, I headed inside to see what I could do to get as close as possible to it.

  The check-in clerk pursed her lips as I asked for a room on the first floor.

  “We only have a few rooms available,” she said after tapping her inch-long nails on the keyboard for a few minutes. She reeled off the rooms she had available, but they were a
ll too high to be able to access the rooftop escape route I’d spotted.

  I allowed my disappointment to bubble up to the surface and gave a sad sigh. “Oh.”

  She glanced up at me. “Would you like to check in to one of those?”

  I closed in on the desk. “Look, I know I should have booked ahead, but I didn’t think. I wanted to surprise my boyfriend by booking the same hotel room where we . . . well, where we shared our first time.” I dropped my voice to a whisper as I said the last part, leaning closer to her again. “See, I think, in fact, I’m pretty sure of it, but I think he’s going to propose tonight. It would have been nice to return to the same floor at least.”

  Her expression softened, and I hoped I’d hit the mark.

  “Some of these rooms haven’t been checked into yet.” She offered me a small smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”

  I waited as she tapped on her keyboard again. Fifteen minutes later, I had booked into the room beside the one I’d ideally wanted.

  “Thank you, Cherie,” the clerk said, reading the name off the stolen credit card I’d given her for payment.

  I left Clay’s name and description at the front desk together with another note containing nothing but my room number. At first, I worried that my trail was too obvious, that it might somehow lead others in the Rain to me. After waiting in the hotel room for three hours, I wondered whether it was too subtle. The museum didn’t appear big enough to take that long to get through, and it was only a five-minute walk from the hotel.

  Don’t worry, he’ll come.

  . . . unless he can’t.

  Or maybe he just doesn’t want to. He left you remember? Nothing has really changed since then; all the reasons he left are still valid.

  Except that he certainly looks like he’s strong enough to protect you now.