Page 113 of Bound to Burn

I stomp my foot. “Oh, come on! You little fuckers. I am bathed infire. Just be easy for once and get back into your pocket.”

But they do not shy away. A prickling unease crawls up my spine. The magic I created for my shop is entwined deeply into my own soul, but now… my soul is different. I’m Heir to Antonia. My threads are no longer warring. They are entwined directly to the Weave instead of my families’ lines. There aren’t even two of them, but four in a single rope. Could it be that becoming Heir has disrupted my connection to the shop’s heart? If so, then Lucas could’ve left without me knowing it.

Yet, Dimitar and his crew slipped in without me noticing. My body washes cold. The corruption. My wards could’ve beenweakening for months or even years, and my mind was too clouded from the side effects to notice.

Which means someone else could’ve come in.

I call for Lucas again, my voice pitching higher, my arms wrapping around my middle. The darkness of the shop presses in all around me, like it’s a living thing trying to snuff out my light.

I steady my breathing, speaking to myself as I make my way through the once comforting towering stacks. They arch over me, disappearing into the shadows like haunted trees leering down at me.It’s okay. Just get to the front of the shop. He could be down in the basement… except, he can’t get in there without me. He must be here. Somewhere. Just. Find. Him.“LUCAS!”

I’m running now, my robe whipping around my legs. My lungs are heaving, my eyes wide. My flames trail behind me, my feet smacking against the hardwood. I scream again, “LUCAS!”

No one answers. The only sounds are from me as I tear through the stacks in a blind panic, trying to make sure not to touch anything flammable as my fire flares with my spiking heart rate.

I burst from the stacks and come to a careening stop, my arms flailing as my feet slide along the wet floors before wiping out. My side hits the ground hard, the pooled liquid splashing and soaking into my white silk robe. The sticky-cold fluid coats my palms and fingertips as I push myself off the floor to brace myself with outstretched arms. The red is vibrant in my fire and I whip my head up to behold the front foyer of my shop.

Blood is everywhere, bathing the wood floor, dripping down the walls in long rivulets, and splattered up along the high ceiling. A body lies before me, devoid of skin, grotesque muscle and sinewy feet pointing towards me.

A strangled, inhuman scream rips free from my throat, the force of it trembling my bones as my soul rips apart for thesecond time in my life. My hands slip, my forearms crashing into the wet ground. A metallic tinge fills my mouth when my face hits it. Sweat blooms over my body, slicking me with a cold that has me shivering so violently that it’s a battle to lift myself back up again.

All I can think, or feel, or see is Lucas as I grapple with the real possibility that the mutilated body is him. But I thrash against it. Itcan’tbe him. It must be someone else. Anyone else. Please, be anyone else. But if not him, who is it? And who could’ve done this?

The memory of the shadow at the base of my stairs has my eyes opening.

My hearing goes white as I pant, my pulse beating so hard that my vision begins to darken in the corners. I was so confident in my new Heir status that I didn’t see the ripping holes in the safety net around me. Now, Lucas could be dead. Someone else is hiding in here. I’m alone with no one to help me. An insistent drumming beats against my panic, demanding to be let in, and I can’t tell if the pounding is my own heartbeat or a fist hammering on my door.

A haunting whisper from my memories sends my panic careening so chaotically that my flame douses, bathing the shop into a living, breathing, blackness.

I’ve missed you…

To be continued…

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