Fan the Flame

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Fan the Flame Page 25

by September Thomas


  He smoothed some loose strands of my hair behind my ear. “Me most of all.”

  “Will you always feel that way?”

  He searched my face with a desperation I didn’t understand. “What are you asking?”

  “I don’t know,” I backtracked, my heart sinking to my feet.

  “Hey.” He nudged my chin until I looked at him again. “You have my support. I might not always agree with your decisions, but I’m always in your corner. Always.”

  “Thank you.” I managed a small smile when I truly felt like crying—not out of pain but out of gratitude. That would make my impeding decision a little easier. I cleared my throat, the headache pounding at the back of my head transforming into something I couldn’t ignore. “I think I need a little time for myself.”

  “I get that.” He pulled me close so my nose pressed into his shoulder. I inhaled deeply, appreciating his familiar scent, wishing I could bottle it. I hugged him back hard, infusing everything I felt for him in that one, tiny gesture.

  “But one more thing before I leave.” He rubbed my arm as if loathe to let me go, vulnerability bleeding from his pores, soft as the glow of the moon spilling across the floor. “A truth that I’m not asking for anything in exchange.” His throat worked around a swallow. “I fear getting close to anyone. No, I’m terrified of getting close to anyone. I’ve been burned before, and nearly lost myself because of it. Hell, I did lose myself because of it. But Zara, for the first time in a very, very long time, you make that terror manageable. You make me want to be something better, something more, something worthy.” He brushed at the tears streaking along my nose, my soul aching at his confession. “I thought you should know that.”

  He stood.

  Then he was gone.

  It wasn’t long before tears saturated my pillow.

  Chapter 41

  With one foot braced on the shingles, I cast one last lingering look around the room.

  On my pillow rested two letters: one to Ryder, another to the other Gods explaining my decision. A few shirts and dresses hung in the closet, mostly Rose’s new acquisitions for me. Everything else of value was either on my back or shoved in my pockets.

  As much as I didn’t want to do this, I had to.

  Something about leaving felt absolutely, one-hundred percent right.

  Straddling the window ledge, I pinned my braid in its now-familiar crown around my head and pulled my dark hood over it, concealing my face. The rings now back on my fingers flashed in the light of an outdoor lamp before I tugged fingerless black gloves over them. I measured the distance to the ground from the third story, and jumped using the wind to guide me to the ground.

  My breath misted in the chilled air. Winter was coming.

  It was almost too easy to walk out the black gates barring the house from the rest of the city, and my thumbs looped under the straps of my backpack. Ahead, the dark and silent street beckoned. A few more steps and I’d be free.

  “All things are difficult before they are easy.” Pyra’s rasp was like a gunshot, but somehow, I’d expected her. I waited as a shadow peeled away from an alcove I’d missed earlier. The cherry tip of her cigarette glowed white as she sucked in a deep, reviving puff of nicotine.

  She moved slowly, holding her breath as if savoring the taste of the smoke. When we were toe-to-toe, she blew a long stream right in my face. I smiled. “Do you have a saying for everything?”

  “Sure. Now tell me why you’re running away right as things are getting difficult.”

  “I’m not running away,” I argued.

  Her irises flared red as she raised her eyebrows. She made a show of looking me up and down as she took another drag of her cancer-stick and finally cocked her head in challenge. “That’s not what it looks like to me.”

  “Things don’t always look like they seem.”

  “Convince me.”

  I shrugged, confident in my answer. “It’s not running away if you’re running to something. I’m running to find myself. Today I was faced with my own ignorance, and I didn’t like how it felt. I’m going to rectify that.”

  Pyra closed one eye and leaned against the wall. The spent cigarette dropped from her fingers. Sparks flew as it hit the pavement and she scrubbed it out with the heel of one black, high-heeled combat boot.

  “I need a little time to figure all this out by myself,” I said, the confession like a weight dropping from my shoulders. “Ever since the beginning, I’ve been surrounded by people trying to help, trying to show me the right way to proceed, trying to influence my decisions. Even you have an agenda.” She flipped her lighter in the air but didn’t comment. “I need to find my own way and to do that I need to understand what’s going on. That begins with knowing this world and the people in it.”

  The Fire God opened her mouth, then closed it with a peculiar smile. “If you do not experience anything, it’s impossible to learn anything.”

  “Something like that.”

  “I get it,” she said. “That’s how I wrestled control of my temple back from my High Priestess.” There was so much about her I didn’t know. Maybe in time, I’d find out. “But why not tell everyone what you’re planning? This is going to upset them.”

  I shifted my weight. “You really think they’ll let me walk?”

  “Not really. Can I come with?”

  “No.”

  She barked laughter, short and sharp. “Had to ask.”

  “Are we good?”

  “You do know there’s one person in that mansion who isn’t going to rest until he tracks you down, right?” Her smile turned wolfish. “We both know that person isn’t about to let you go without a fight, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to be pissed as hell when he finds you gone.”

  I knew that. I’d accounted for that. I was betting on that.

  “I’d be disappointed otherwise.”

  “You’re playing with fire, Zara.” She sighed. “And I don’t only mean metaphorically. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you concealed your second element from me.”

  “Are we about to throw down?”

  The lines on her face flattened. “Nah. But I do need to know: how much time are you asking for? We might actually need you at some point.”

  “Six months.”

  “And what are we doing until then?”

  “Exactly what you were going to do before you knew I was leaving. Solve the crisis.”

  “You make it sound so simple.” Her fingers danced around the silver container of her cigarettes. “How do we get a hold of you if we need you?”

  Good question. My rings snagged on my gloves as I twisted my hands together. Wait. I rolled my sleeve up and unstrapped the turquoise knife sheathed there and handed it over. Finn had grudgingly recovered it from the wreckage of the tower for me.

  “It’s gorgeous,” Pyra stuttered, wide-eyed with wonder. “Are you sure you want to leave this with me?”

  No. Not really.

  “Consider it a bartering chip. I have to come back for it because it’s one of the few things I have left of my temple.” I ran a hand over my hood, thinking. “If you need me, say as much to the sea. The Kraken will find me. I’m not vanishing, but I am buying myself breathing room.”

  The Fire God nodded and slipped the knife into her jacket, then surprised me by plowing into me with the force of a freight train. My arms wrapped around her and I realized I counted this girl among the handful I trusted. It shook me to the core.

  “Alright, Water. Six months starting now. Not a day longer or I’ll hunt you down myself.” I smiled at the threat. “Try to stay in touch somehow, or at least let us know that you’re still alive occasionally.” She cleared her throat. “And we’ll hold down the front here.” She flicked her fingers dismissively.

  I shouldered my bag, a sense of finality settling firmly on my back. I looked past her one last time at the darkened windows of those I cared about and started my long march toward my future.

  If you enjoyed
this story, I kindly ask that you leave a review. Reviews are the lifeblood of every author’s career and every star counts.

  Acknowledgement

  A heartfelt thanks to everyone who helped me on my journey toward self-publication.

  For starters – this book wouldn’t be anywhere near as amazing or as well-rounded without the assistance of my fabulous editor, Fiona McLaren. I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for your encouragement and your critiques! I knew from our first Skype conversation that we would get along splendidly, and it makes me incredibly happy to know how right I was. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your input on this series and for your assistance in everything from marketing to creative development. Publishing isn’t an easy realm to navigate, but you’ve helped make it that much more approachable. And, most of all, I love seeing your joy at following Zara’s journey. I think you may be her biggest fan.

  Also, a huge thanks to my brilliant cover artist Natasha MacKenzie! Yet again, you astound me with your creative ability. I didn’t think I could love a cover more than the first one you created (I mean come on! That Kraken!!), and you proved me wrong. Thank you for bearing with my constant questions and requests, you patience is saintly.

  I have to send this one out to my brother, David, too. I was a little nervous when you started reading Walk on Water because I wasn’t sure if the genre was up your alley. But you dove into the series with the dedication and love of the most avid YA reader. Hearing you talk about Ryder and Zara and Finn and all their awesome encounters was a huge motivator. I hope book two surpasses your expectations—I know they’re high.

  Josh, my writing career may have never seen the light of day without your encouragement. From listening to my rambling plotting sessions to proofreading to discussing weird character traits, you’ve been there for me every step of the way. You’ve helped dissuade my every doubt. Your support never goes unappreciated. I love you.

  To my doggy twin. Sydney, I don’t know how you tolerate all the skipped walks and late lunches because I was too wrapped up in my fictional world to take the smallest break. You are the fuzzy bumble fluff that’s always by my side on the best and worst of days.

  And finally, to all of you who believe in magic—don’t ever stop.

  I know it’s there.

  Now it needs someone to wake it up.

  About the Author

  September Thomas is the author of the Elemental Gods series. She lives in Nebraska with her boyfriend and rescued Australian Cattle Dog. She also boasts a large collection of owls that some consider amusingly ridiculous.

  You can connect with me on:

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