Temptation by Fire

by Tiffany Allee

  For once, she didn’t seem to have a barbed reply at the ready.

  The knob turned easily in my hand, and I shut the door firmly behind me.

  …

  His words still ringing in my ears, Karson got up from the couch and left. That he was gone barely registered.

  Numbness overtook me for a blessed moment, and my thoughts were crystal clear. He really didn’t care—at least, not enough to fight to keep me in his life. Not enough to fight for a better life for himself instead of one ruled by an endless need for vengeance.

  And so what if he had tattoos full of demon blood? There was a good man beneath that ink, no matter what he seemed to think. A man who could choose his actions, if not his urges.

  Then the numbness broke, and I shoved myself up from the couch and flung the living room curtains open, then yanked the cord on the blinds. The orange light of the city glowed, illuminating the night sky. He’d see me watching him leave. I’d look pathetic.

  I didn’t care.

  I felt like one more glimpse of him would reveal all of his secrets to me. Connect us somehow. It was a silly idea, I knew that, but I couldn’t resist trying to catch a final look at him, all the same.

  But he never passed by the window. Never walked across the parking lot. Never offered me the chance to look at him one last time. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stepped away from the window.

  I tried to process what he’d said. That our time together was a mistake.

  But he hadn’t said that he didn’t care. And that was the worst part. If he had, I wouldn’t have had a stupid bit of hope to cling to. I could have kindly told that tiny part of me that insisted he loved me to shut the hell up.

  Suddenly cold, I ran my hands over my arms to warm myself. Not chilled from a demon, which might have been easier to deal with than what shook me.

  I was in love with Karson. Inexorably. Hopelessly. Painfully.

  And I couldn’t have him.

  I shuddered, and reached for the afghan on the couch. But the old blanket did nothing for the chill. Knowing that once I started crying, I wouldn’t be able to stop, I bit back the tears pressing against my eyelids and tried to convince myself that he was right. That we would never work together. That I could never fit into his world.

  But that felt like a lie.

  Crap. There was nothing I could do about any of it tonight. Maybe not ever. But Karson had been right about one thing. If I wasn’t going to be with the Venators, then I needed to get out of town. No way had Hugh and Thomas missed me when I ran into the fray with Karson. That made me a target. Not to mention my stupid curse, which would motivate them to come after me even more.

  I’d finally follow Karson’s advice and leave town for a while. Allow Caleb to come to collect me under Karson’s orders. Should be a fun trip. Not at all horribly awkward.

  I forced myself to pack. I shoved clothes into my suitcase and did my best to push what he’d said from my mind. If I let myself think about it, I’d fall into a puddle of tears and pain. And what would that accomplish? It certainly wouldn’t show him that I was strong enough to thrive in his world. If that’s even what I wanted to do.

  But the worries lingered, and my thoughts raced around them. Logically, I knew he was right. Best to end things now—before I got even more attached. But the emptiness in my chest at the thought of never seeing him again made me wonder.

  How could we fit so perfectly if we weren’t meant to be?

  Needing the comfort of a friendly chat, I sent Miriam a text message. She didn’t reply right away, and a new worry niggled at me. Was she upset that I had refused to embrace my visions and touch her at the party? She hadn’t acted like it, but Miriam was a heck of a lot better at covering her emotions than I was.

  With a lump in my throat, I picked up the picture Miriam had given me only a few days ago. The picture of our teenaged selves, happy and carefree at the amusement park. Swallowing my tears, I placed the picture carefully into the suitcase, surrounding it with protective layers of clothing.

  I tried to sleep, a fitful motion full of dreams. Karson leaving me again. Thomas and Hugh kidnapping me at knifepoint. Karson coming back and confessing his love. Not exactly restful.

  I was out of bed again before dawn.

  I’d packed as much as I could fit into two luggage bags. That would have to do. Light from the sunrise streamed in through the windows that I’d left uncovered the night before when I’d tried to get a glimpse of Karson leaving.

  With a heavy heart, I peeked out the window at the far too bright day. But clouds threatened on the horizon, so maybe the day would change to suit my mood. It felt like eyes watched me while I watched the clouds. Whether they belonged to Karson, or Thomas, or my own imagination, I wasn’t sure.

  Packing had been the easy part. Figuring out where to go after I met Caleb was the real challenge. And without Miriam’s advice, I felt lost. I had some money, saved from years of working with little to spend it on, so maybe I’d go somewhere. Find a motel in a distant nowhere place. Pay in cash and register under a fake name like a criminal.

  If Caleb was agreeable to a few errands, the bank would be my first stop, and then Miriam’s for a quick good-bye. Caleb wasn’t exactly my biggest fan, but he wouldn’t deny me a few errands. I wouldn’t let him.

  And maybe I wouldn’t have to survive totally on my own right away. Caleb might know of someplace for me to go. Maybe Karson had already arranged something, like a safe house.

  I’d been content here, in this shabby little apartment, with my almost-perfect job. Not happy. But almost.

  I pushed the rambling thoughts away. The future would have to take care of itself. Right now, I had to run. Because I was certain of one thing: I wouldn’t last long with demons hunting me if Karson wasn’t at my side.

  I picked up the heavier suitcase from the bed and dragged it toward the door, then the other. Two trips. My whole life would take two trips to pack into a car.

  The door clunked against the wall when I yanked it open as I balanced a suitcase with my other hand. Maybe Caleb would help with the luggage. Could he already be downstairs? I left the suitcase where it was and trotted down the stairs to check.

  The lobby was empty, but when I went to peek out the glass doors leading to the outside world, something on the door caught my attention. A white envelope flapped at me, hung from the door with a bit of packing tape. Writing blemished its surface. Just one word, written in caps in dark red ink:

  Ava.

  Heart pounding, I glanced up and around the lobby. No one waited to grab me. I opened the door just enough to get my arm around it. Tape snicked when I pulled the envelope from the door.

  I ran back up to my apartment, panic driving me. I didn’t feel totally safe in here—even with the wards to protect me. But knowing someone had been just outside my building—maybe just moments before I opened the door—made me feel even less safe out there.

  Packing tape stuck to my palm as I worked the envelope open. It was stiff, and after getting my thumb between the edges and ripping it enough to see inside, I saw why. Light reflected off a photograph. A quick tug and I pulled it out.

  My eyes blurred and the air seemed to evaporate from the room.

  This couldn’t be happening. Dammit. My fault. This was my fault. The photograph folded in my grip, bending to fit in my fist.

  They’d taken Miriam.

  I struggled to breathe.

  It was because I’d helped the Venators. Or maybe because I’d told Thomas about my gift and they wanted it. And, God—Miriam. She’d asked me to touch her. Even though she’d been half joking, I knew she’d really wanted me to. Not because she could have envisioned this, but because I was her best friend, and she wanted me to accept that my curse was a gift.

  She’d always called my curse a gift.

  If I had accepted the truth as she knew it to be, Miriam would be okay. Not in the hands of demons.

  Seconds passed. I gasped for air throug
h my tears. Beneath me, the soft couch was safe and familiar. I rocked back and forth on it. Stupid. I should have warned Miriam. Should have called her the second we left Thomas’s house.

  I should have touched her. Why hadn’t I just fucking touched her?

  Because I’d been too damn scared.

  The picture I’d just looked at flashed in my mind—of Miriam and me, laughing and happy after graduation. But the image was quickly overtaken by another one that brought bile to my throat.

  Miriam’s face on the photograph, no longer laughing. Swollen and caked in blood.

  Miriam’s confusion and fear.

  Tears ran down my face, wetting my jean-covered knees that I hugged tightly to my chin. Miriam didn’t hate me, wouldn’t hate me. And Miriam’s laughter wasn’t gone from the world, not yet.

  I had to concentrate, to plan.

  Pushing up from the couch to pace, I avoided looking at the crumpled picture in my hand and struggled to think through my options. Knowledge. That’s what I needed. Karson hadn’t told me enough, not enough to deal with this. I had to track him down.

  I unfolded the photo and forced myself to look once again. The bloody form of what had been my best friend’s face greeted me, a grisly portrait. I turned the photograph over. Dark lines drawn with a Sharpie crisscrossed the back, making letters it took my jumbled mind a moment to decipher:

  My apartment. 10 p.m. Thomas.

  The police. I could go to them. They would help me with the picture for evidence. But what could they possibly do to help Miriam? Nothing. They’d get themselves killed by going after Thomas, or they’d dally, and Miriam would die due to my inaction.

  I shoved the picture into my jacket pocket and ignored the dizziness that made me want to collapse back onto the couch. It was still early. The clock on my microwave read 7:32. Over twelve hours. Good. There was time to think. Time to come up with a plan. Maybe time to find Karson. Either way, I would be at Thomas’s at ten o’clock.

  I didn’t have a choice.

  My hands didn’t seem to want to hold onto my cell phone, and I dropped it. I cursed and picked it back up. Gripping the phone more tightly, I hit Karson’s number. And prayed that he wouldn’t ignore my call.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I slammed my fist into the wall of the dingy motel room, and the pain barely registered. I was a fucking fool. I should never have brought Ava into this world of demons. Just allowing myself to be near her was dangerous—I’d known that the second I’d seen her. And sleeping with her? Doubly stupid.

  I’d stalked the streets of Chicago all night, reminding myself that Ava was better off without me in her life. Reminding myself of what I’d started. What I had to finish.

  I arrived back at the motel room as dawn nudged night, but my all-night trek hadn’t worn me out. Instead, anger still consumed me.

  From across the room, my cell phone’s ring cut through the air from my jacket pocket. I ignored the sound. Caleb, wanting to talk more before he went to retrieve Ava. Like I wanted to talk. I’d told him to pick her up and get her out of town. I wasn’t going to answer his fucking endless list of questions about it.

  She’d be out of town soon.

  The thought should have made me feel better, but instead it just made me want to hit the wall again. I brushed off a piece of drywall from my knuckle and took a deep breath.

  Had I shared too much with her? Definitely. I didn’t owe her anything—definitely didn’t owe her my past.

  Dark hair and kind eyes flashed. I hadn’t thought of my mother in years. I couldn’t afford to dwell on my family, on their faces. But somehow this little bit of a woman brought my family’s features to the forefront of my thoughts. Even though her physical resemblance to them was almost nonexistent.

  I sat on the bed and kneaded my temples. It hit me that I could barely picture them anymore—my family. Their faces faded from memory, while Ava’s moved more sharply into focus.

  I couldn’t let what happened to them happen to her. Not when it was in my power to save her. My family…I could only avenge them.

  She’d be safe. Caleb would see to it. The man could be an ass, but he would do his best by her, if only to prove he wasn’t a fuckup.

  But for a few more hours, she’d be alone.

  After what must have been the fiftieth round of pacing my small room, I grabbed my jacket and car keys. The sun had risen just above the horizon, and sunlight glinted off the hood of my car. I’d watch from the parking lot. Make sure she was okay. That was it.

  The car engine roared to life. I turned it onto the road and pointed it toward Ava’s apartment.

  Hell, this was a bad idea. Talk about leading yourself to temptation. But I didn’t care.

  I loved her.

  It was stupid and selfish, but I needed to spend every minute I could with her, even if our time was limited. Even if it was just to carry her bags down the stairs. Even if it was just to say good-bye.

  A loud ringing cut through the air from my cell phone. Fucking Caleb. The man was persistent, I’d give him that. I didn’t take my eyes from the road to check the number, and instead answered without bothering to hide my annoyance.

  “Karson?” Ava choked on my name.

  Fear spiked my heart rate. “Ava? What’s going on? Are you hurt?” God, don’t let her be hurt. I shifted gears, ignoring the red light on the nearly empty street.

  “I’m fine. But they’ve got her.”

  “Who? Who do they have, sweetheart?” Panic rode my words, probably not the best thing for Ava to hear, but I could barely see past the sudden flash of worry and anger. Worry for Ava, and anger at anything that might touch her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Miriam. They’ve taken her, Karson. And they sent me a picture.”

  “Are you at your apartment?”

  “Yes.”

  I pressed down on the accelerator. “I’m on my way.”

  She muttered a quick good-bye, and I sent Caleb a quick text. No details, just that he didn’t need to pick up Ava.

  When Ava opened the apartment door only minutes after she’d called me, tears streaked her face. A rage that reminded me far too much of my own feelings after my family was killed stained her usually optimistic features.

  When I sat down on the couch next to her and pulled her into my arms, she trembled, choking on her almost silent sobs. She clutched the cell phone so hard I had to tug on it a couple of times before she released her grip. I tossed it onto the coffee table.

  “How’d you get here so fast?” she asked when her sobs had abated enough for her to speak.

  “You’re white as a ghost.” I ran the back of my hand down the side of her face, soothing away her tears.

  Wordlessly, she pulled the picture from her jacket and handed it to me. I frowned at the photo, flipped it over to read the writing on the back, and then gave it back to her.

  “What? Nothing to say to that?” She struggled with the words, and I took one of her hands in mine.

  What did she expect me to say? Miriam was hurt, maybe dead. I’d failed to take down Hugh and Thomas, and I’d have to live with the guilt of what happened to Miriam. But two wrongs wouldn’t make a right. Ava couldn’t turn herself over to save her friend, because no way would Hugh honor such a deal even if we tried it.

  I just wished I knew the right words. Some clever turn of phrase that would take away some of the hurt in her eyes.

  But I didn’t. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry. Well, thanks, that’s helpful.” Eyes narrowing, she said, “For your information, there’s nothing to be sorry about. She’s going to be fine.”

  “You’re not going to meet them.” The thought of her with Thomas and Hugh—no. No fucking way was she going to them like a lamb to the slaughter.

  “The hell I’m not! She’s my best friend. My only friend, sad as that sounds. And I’m not leaving her with those monsters. Not to mention there’s that other man—Mateo. I don’t care what his peop
le say, it’s our responsibility to help him, too.”

  I almost told her that Mateo was probably already dead. That they didn’t keep Venators alive long as a rule. But I couldn’t stomach her reaction to that news, even if it meant she might take the situation more seriously. Instead, I tried another tactic.

  “What you can do for them—”

  “I can’t do anything for them!”

  “Calm down,” I said, trying to keep my voice low. Show no fear. My fear would only feed hers. “Screaming at me isn’t going to help you.”

  “No,” she growled, “but it feels pretty good.” She pulled away from me, scooted into the corner of the couch, and pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them.

  I sighed and touched her sock-covered foot. It was a small touch. Skin on fabric. She flinched, like she would have done before she knew my tattoos prevented me from giving her visions. Even knowing that it wasn’t personal, that people reverted to old habits when they were stressed, my gut twisted.

  She got up from the couch and my hand dropped. I didn’t follow her, even though every cell in my body demanded movement. Demanded I comfort her. Demanded I show her that she wasn’t alone in the world.

  She carefully examined the carpet, obviously lost in thought and no longer interested in being comforted. I’d been good with people once. Good enough to get through college and law school. But now I sucked.

  “I used to be better at this,” I muttered.

  “Better at what?”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut. But I couldn’t take the words back. “Better at talking to people. Understanding them.”

  Silence descended over us, and even with my eyes closed I could feel her hesitation and her desire to press for more.

  “You mean before your family—”

  “Yes.” I ground out the word, trying to imbue it with my intent. Quit asking questions. Don’t go there. Danger.

  “You don’t have to say anything, but if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

  “There’s nothing to tell. A demon killed them. Now I kill demons. Pretty fucking simple.” Besides, she already knew more of it than I’d ever told anyone. What did she expect? That I’d tell her how I sobbed? That I’d felt completely lost without them? That I still ached with loneliness down to my bones when I let myself feel anything?