Page 19 of Chasing the Flame (The Sacred Flames Of Ruin #1)
The drive home is long and stressful, and I swear the further I drive away from Averie, the more unease settles in my stomach. I should’ve known, and it kills me that I didn't listen to my intuition.
Luke will never fucking change, and the fact he’s in so deep with the covenant makes me wonder his real motives where she’s concerned. I know what happens to people who get too close to the truth. I’ve lived through it and refuse to let Averie be another statistic.
The winding road with its evergreens and thickets of trees does nothing to stop the storm raging within me.
By the time I make it to my dad’s cabin, I’m brimming with rage, and the beast inside me is clawing at the surface, begging for release.
I inhale sharply, releasing the breath after I count to three.
It doesn’t entirely stop the power building, but calms me to a reasonable level.
Jumping out of my truck, I scan the expansive property, searching for any inkling of where my father may be.
Patience has never been my virtue. In two seconds, I’m striding toward the barn.
My steps are thunderous, and I’m covering ground quickly.
The old barn with faded red paint stands tall.
Its front doors open wide, allowing an ample amount of evening light to shine through.
I walk through the opening, looking through the stalls, and notice the animals seem skittish.
Someone or something was just here.
“Dad!” I yell, racing across the yard and rushing up the wooden steps onto the covered porch. The front door is slightly ajar, and a deep dread slithers through my stomach.
Why isn’t he answering me ?
Hair stands up on the back of my neck and arms, and in an instant, I’m busting through the door, my gaze sweeping the room for any signs of an intruder. Nothing seems amiss, but I can’t escape this nagging feeling that something’s wrong.
I pass through the living room, taking in the scuffed cherrywood flooring, reminded of simpler times.
Portraits hang in the space, some happy memories, and others are painful reminders of what was lost. In the center of the living room, over the mantle, hangs a painting that still sends a chill down my spine.
Two beings, a primordial god and goddess, stand together at the base of a magnificent tree.
The pair represents duality, light and shadows blending in perfect harmony.
Or so the story always went. The goddess, dressed in golden silk, with a halo atop her head, smiles serenely in the face of darkness.
The beast beside her snarls, its razor-sharp teeth and claws poised for the kill signifying the dance we all take with death.
Horns sit atop its head, its yellow-eyed gaze fixed on the goddess before it.
I’ve never once found this painting comforting. If anything, I find it a painful reminder of the very real evil lurking in the darkness. The darkness that I’m terrified has already sunk its claws into Averie.
Shaking my head, I head toward the back of the house, passing through the long burgundy hallway.
It’s the only pop of color in the whole house.
When I reach my father’s bedroom, I pause, listening for any sounds or signs of anything unusual.
I’m still on high alert, my mind racing with every worst sort of possibility.
Ultimately, I push open the door, my eyes widening at the sight before me.
My father is in his bed with a woman, her dark hair tinged with streaks of silver.
The two of them are tangled together, his hands gripping her waist as she rides his cock.
“FUCK!” I yell, slamming the door and turning on my heel, embarrassment lodged in my chest.
A string of feminine curses and laughter follows my father’s chuckles. My cheeks burn at the thought of that woman laughing at my expense. The image of the two of them is seared in my mind, and I just know I’m never getting it out.
For fucks sake, I didn’t even know he was fucking anyone.
“Hey, son, what brings you here?” Dad calls from behind me, and I grip the back of the brown leather recliner, forcing myself to calm down.
After three deep breaths, I turn to meet his gaze.
Elliot Noxwood, still very much in his prime, is the mirror image of me, minus two tiny details.
He stands about half a foot taller than I, nearly reaching seven feet, with gray peppering his dark brown hair.
His eyes are the spitting image of mine, with a ring of green and brown around his iris.
He’s still buttoning up his navy blue flannel, his expression exuding mirth and curiosity.
Shaking my head, I say, “I should’ve called, but I need to talk to you.
” He nods at me, his gaze flicking back toward the bedroom door, then back to me.
I nod at him, subtly letting him know I require complete privacy.
He sucks in a sharp breath, but mutters an incantation and instantly a sheer shimmering bubble surrounds us.
“What’s so damn important that you needed a silencing bubble to speak freely?” He doesn’t waste a second, cutting straight to the point.
“It’s about Luke ,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair in agitation .
“I thought I told you to stay away from him,” he growls, his eyes flashing in fury.
“I know what you said, but this is dangerous. They’re doing it again, goddamnit!”
My father narrows his gaze at me, “What’s with this sudden obsession?! You’ve never been one to lose your shit! Wasn’t the threat enough? I let that shit slide, when clearly, I shouldn’t have. Why are you so interested, anyway?”
I roll my eyes, swearing under my breath. Of course, he’d go there. “And what proof do you have? What evidence?” My father paces back and forth, frustration evident in how he clenches his jaw, occasionally rubbing his graying beard.
“Proof? Seriously?! Why are you assuming I don’t know what I’m talking about?
I know what I saw!” My words are venomous, edged with a burning intensity that surprises me.
I guess my feelings for Averie run deeper than I imagined.
The thought has me gulping, suddenly apprehensive of my outburst. My father isn’t like my uncle or cousin, but will not tolerate blatant disrespect.
“It’s obvious you have an ulterior motive here…
and son? You know I never do anything reckless, and I damn sure ain’t starting today.
I suggest you start explaining and telling me the truth.
” His words are like a slap, and the rage immediately falls away.
He always has that effect on me, no matter how old I am.
Sighing, I say, “You didn’t see the marks on her…she’s fucking important! He’s been grooming her for fucking years from the looks of it. I don’t know why or what it is, but I’m drawn to her, and that fucker hurt her.”
He pauses, turning toward me with a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So, Luke’s hurting someone we care about, is that what I’m hearing? ”
Rage blasts through me again, “He’s going to kill her! I have zero doubts after the shit I found. I just don’t know what he stands to gain from this.”
He growls, “I bet I do, and nothing good will come of it.”
“It’s the same one, dad, the same damn spell…”
Dad sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “I think it’s time I had a conversation with my long-lost nephew.”
Snarling, I clench my fists at my side, but ultimately nod in agreement.
It won’t do me any good to argue, not when he’s already made up his mind.
If anyone knows how to handle Luke and this mess with the covenant, it’s him.
He tilts his head, his brows furrowed in confusion.
Whirling around he lets out a soft groan, “Fuck, I forgot about Lucy.”
“Looks like an obliviate spell is needed…” I chuckle, glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the woman glaring at him.
He sucks in a breath, immediately muttering the release incantation for the silencing bubble. “Lucy, darling, I’m sorry. We were lost in discussion,” he says smoothly, reaching for her and wrapping her in his arms.
“What the hell’s going on?” She narrows her silvery-blue eyes, leaning out of his embrace and planting a hand on her hip.
My father smiles, staring deeply into her eyes before whispering, “Oblivio memorias.”
Lucy’s face softens, her eyes fluttering closed before collapsing in my father's waiting arms. Even after all this time, magic seems to come easily to him. “Well, now that she’s out, we better get down to business.” He says, gingerly placing Lucy on the dark brown leather couch.
He turns, and I follow him down the hall to the one room I know will hold some answers—his altar room.
The wind is howling, and the sky darkens with each passing second. The temperature has dropped, and the perfect fall day quickly turns into a brutal storm. My hands grip the rails, my breath shallow, and Luke seems overly satisfied with my nervous behavior.
He’s gloating, though over what I can’t be sure. Jenny stands beside me, her hand rubbing gentle circles on my lower back, as if that will ease the anxiety clawing its way through my chest. I love the water, but I don’t like storms.
Storms make it dangerous, and in the right conditions, capsize you, sending you deep into the watery depths of hell.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know it’s a dream. A memory of a nightmare that I’ll never escape from, but it doesn’t stop the scene from playing out exactly how it happened. I hate this, the awareness, and the eventual failure to prevent the nightmare from playing again and again.
Then, the scene shifts, immediately pulling me back in.