Page 37 of Chasing the Flame (The Sacred Flames Of Ruin #1)

I don’t know what this woman puts in her food, but I swear I’m starting to think it’s crack. It should be a crime to be this talented. Especially with something as simple as hot ham and cheese sandwiches.

Once everyone has had their fill, Jettson clears his throat, and I take a swig of the sweet tea Lucy puts in front of me .

“Lucy, hon’… I need you to go wait in the car,” Elliot says, weaving a hand through his hair.

Lucy gapes at him, her eyes narrowing. “You have done lost your mind, if you think for a single fucking second that I’m leaving this girl alone. You’ve got that look in your eye, like you’re about to drop a bomb. So no, I’m not fucking going anywhere.”

Lucy looks pissed. I swivel my head in Elliot’s direction, noting his clenched jaw and white knuckled hands. Damn, this isn’t going to be good.

“Dad, just… say it. We don’t have time for this.” Jettson is clearly exasperated, like he’s itching to say more but won’t risk directing us even further off course.

Elliot grits his teeth but nods, “The meeting with Donald and Luke went about as well as could be expected. Neither of them would budge on what the covenant has been up to since I stepped down.”

Jettson laughs harshly, the sound jarring and unlike him. “Yeah, figured as much. I still feel like you’re holding back. There’s something that you’re not telling us and I’d like to know why. We need to know, Dad.”

Lucy is squirming in her seat, eyes wide and her lips tightly pursed together. She looks like she’s itching to say something, but doesn’t even know where to begin.

Same , sister.

Elliot is avoiding Jettson’s gaze, his jaw clenched, his posture equally rigid. I wring my hands in my lap, my stomach churning in anticipation.

“Jett…”

“No, Dad! Don’t you dare. She deserves to know whatever the fuck it is you’re keeping from us,” Jettson seethes, his breathing labored. He looks like he’s about to combust .

Elliot seems to have aged in minutes, like the weight of what he’s hiding has been a horrible burden to bear. My heart aches for him, but I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t internally screaming at him to hurry.

I need answers.

“Ignivara,” Elliot says, staring straight at me.

It echoes, sharp and searing—like flame forged with a single word. Something cracks and shifts inside me. Something about that word pokes and prods at my subconscious, like a whisper of a memory. It feels familiar, yet elusive. Like I can’t quite grab onto the full thought.

Jettson’s eyes widen, and he looks at me as though he’s seeing me for the first time. “Are you sure?” His voice is barely a whisper, like he’s in disbelief.

“Thessarie is her mother, Jett. I’m a thousand percent sure.”

My mouth drops, my stomach twisting uncomfortably. Jettson swears, jumping up from the small kitchen table and paces the room. “M-my Mom’s name is Kathryn. I think… that can’t be right, can it?”

Elliot gives me a sad smile and shakes his head yes.

“Sorry kiddo, but your mom isn’t who she told you she is.

Tess was always such a vibrant and talented witch.

It’s no surprise she claimed the attention of some powerful players.

Mark Shadebriar, to be specific. A fucking monster of a warlock.

When Mark claimed she passed away, and the baby died too, well.

I always suspected she spirited herself into the night and never looked back.

Or hoped, I guess I should say… and now here you are, living proof that she did. ”

The ringing in my ears reaches a crescendo, blocking out everything else. I can’t think, can’t seem to breathe. The pain in my chest is so sharp—so deep that I don’t think I’ll recover from the betrayal. Why would she lie ?

I lock eyes with Lucy, who looks like she’s ready to bolt. The feeling is entirely mutual. “Does anyone want to explain what the fuck is going on?!” Lucy shrieks, her voice rising an octave with each word.

It’s the distraction I needed, laughter spilling out from me in a bout of nervous giggles. I swear I feel like I’m on an episode of Charmed. This can’t be real. It just fucking can’t.

Elliot sighs, gives Jettson a stern look that instantly shuts me up, and turns to Lucy. “Oblivio memorias.”

Lucy’s eyelids close, her jaw going slack as she slumps in the chair. My jaw drops, heart thundering as I shoot a scathing look in Elliot’s direction. “What did you do to her?!” I scream, jumping from my seat to rush to her side.

“Averie, honey, she can’t know. Lucy is human.

I think you know by now… you’re not. Your mother should’ve explained this to you, should’ve given you the knowledge of your lineage and how our world works.

” Elliot groans, running a hand down his face.

“I guess I can’t fault Tess for being afraid.

Mark is a piece of work, and I’m glad she got away from that sadistic son of a bitch.

I only wish she would’ve at least told you what you are.

It’s a wonder your powers have stayed dormant for this long…

maybe that’s a sign of how powerful you’ll be. ”

He’s looking at me like I’m some mythical savior who’s supposed to take the bad guys down. It’s ridiculous. I don’t know the first thing about their— our —world.

I laugh bitterly, “Yeah well, since my father passed away my mother has slowly grown cold and distant. I doubt she is going to be helpful anytime soon. So, you want to give me the cliff notes?”

He grunts, nods once and begins, “Ignivara are powerful creatures, said to be blessed by Nytherion himself. Think of them like lions with a flaming mane and tail. They have horns, black obsidian fur, and it’s said that flames and lava crackle against their skin.

” Elliot looks awed, and I don’t like the way my stomach twists because of it.

“What does that have to do with Luke?” My words are hushed, shaky despite my best effort.

Jettson snarls, thrusting his hands on the table. He leans toward Elliot, like he wants to strangle his Dad. “Please tell me he isn’t…”

Elliot says nothing, choosing silence while Jettson comes to terms with whatever he thinks this is. “Dad, no. They can’t do this! You know there’s a reason it’s forbidden.”

“I’m afraid there’s no talking them out of it, son. They’ve already made up their minds. Now, we just need to help Averie navigate this.” Elliot is firm, but regretful, like he knows I’m just waiting to snap.

Unluckily for him…I do. “Do either of you want to fucking fill me in? What does any of this have to do with me ?”

“I’ll try to give you the condensed version.

I’m not just a magic user, neither is my father and…

neither are you.” He pauses, letting me absorb what he said, but all I heard is that there’s something else wrong with me.

Something not of this world. “Ignivara are sacred, and extremely rare. To be gifted with the capability of shifting into such a beautiful form… it’s, well. It’s unheard of.”

“Jettson’s right, Averie. Thessarie, your mother, is a part of an ancient bloodline.

The Embergrave’s have long been a part of the covenant, and it is said that their bloodline carries the gene.

Until you, there hasn’t been an Ignivara in over a thousand years.

” Elliot gives me another sad smile, like it’ll help soften the brunt of what he’s saying.

It doesn’t.

But, a thought strikes me like a match to kindling. “If I’m an… Ignivara. Then, what are you?” I ask, suddenly needing to understand everything about the world I thought I knew. “Wait, you said shift?! As in beast form? And what does the covenant do—are they basically the government?”

Jettson chuckles, slides back into his chair and takes my hands in his.

“Yes, love. There are three types of creatures, or fae depending on who you ask, that make up the covenant. Shifters, warlocks or witches, and vampires. You’re right about them being our government.

Our world lives in the shadows but we answer to them.

They create the rules, serve as judge and executioner, even select potential mates for rare species of shifters.

I’m a Cervari, guardian of the earth and wind.

Still rare, but less rare than you. Ignivara’s well…

they’re the guardian of the sacred flames. ”

My head starts pounding, the room spinning in circles with every breath I take. I need air. This is too fucking much. Just when I feel like I’m about to panic, Jettson’s voice cuts through the haze, jerking my attention back.

“Averie, there’s more. It’s said in the oldest texts we’ve researched, there is one thing that should never happen.

An Ignivara is so rare that most of the time when one comes of age, they’re already betrothed to someone deemed as a potential partner.

Someone, who could genetically be compatible to make another Ignivara.

Luke is a Vraylen, a monster of a beast with terrible power.

The type of shifter your magic would give birth to…

it’s unthinkable. It could unravel the fabric of our world. ”

Jettson looks apologetic, like he knows this is information overload. I thought I was just a normal city girl. No magic. Damn sure not a fucking shifter, or a witch. And absofuckinglutely not some magical baby breeding machine.

I feel sick.

Everything starts caving in, and I don’t think. I jump up and dart toward the front door. As I rush outside, the smells of the forest greet me. The air is chilly, the dampness coating the bannister on the porch and stairs.

But, in the end it does the trick. I’m able to draw a deep breath, clear my head and focus on what I can control.

Which isn’t much, but it’s at least something. Guess you just have to find the silver lining.

Ten minutes go by, and I can breathe easier. Hushed tones have filled the cabin the whole time, a heated debate between father and son. Then, Jettson’s boots thud against the wooden deck, announcing his presence. I turn to face him, needing to be reassured. “Jettson, I—”

“I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes wide and filled with regret. “I shouldn’t have dumped all of it on you like that. But there was no easy way to tell you.”

I freeze, unused to getting an apology. Without realizing it I had geared up for a fight. Immediately the tension leaves my body, “No, I know you didn’t mean to. It’s just a lot, I guess I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.”

“That’s understandable. You’ve spent your whole life thinking you’re human.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Hey, how did your dad figure it out?” The question has been burning at the back of my mind, and now I can’t let it go.

“As far as I know, he broke into Donald’s office.

Whatever he found there convinced him of your lineage, and scared the fuck out of him.

He says the grimoire he saw contained a ritual, and he’s betting that’s what Luke is up to.

He wouldn’t say more than that. I’m sorry baby, but…

I think we need to discuss a plan to get you out of Michigan for good. ”

A chill runs down my spine, and I have this insane need to beg him to go right now. I can’t explain the fear, or where it came from, but I get the feeling he’s not wrong.

“Okay, let’s get it figured out then. Because I refuse to be a pawn in that assholes game.” I say with false bravado. Truth be told, I feel anything but confident.

I can’t shake the feeling that something or someone is coming. So, when Jettson takes my hand and leads me back inside, I paint a fake smile on my face and get down to business, settling in for the long night ahead.

There’s something wrong. I woke up in a panic, sweating profusely, and in an empty bed. Jettson’s nowhere to be found, and my head is throbbing.

The last thing I remember is setting a time to meet up with Dahlia tomorrow. To make a solid plan, and then hopefully she can help me stay hidden. After we chatted, Elliot left, taking a very groggy Lucy with him.

I don’t remember anything after that. It’s like my mouth is filled with sand, and my limbs are a little fuzzy. My vision is swimming and I can’t make heads or tails of what’s going on.

A creak spills into the air, shocking me to silence.

I listen intently, blinking my eyes several times to try to adjust to the dim lighting.

It’s no use, my migraine is making it impossible to see clearly.

There’s soft footsteps, shuffling, and a long drawn out scrape that sends a chill up my spine.

I’m practically straining my neck, holding my breath and listening with every bit of concentration. It sounds like the doorknob is rustling, but I can’t be sure.

My heart is thundering in my chest, my blood rushing to my ear. A shuffle, scuffs of boots as they drag across the floor. Or is it my ears playing tricks on me? I feel like my heart is about to explode, and I can’t hear a damn thing above the roar in my ears.

A hand reaches out and grabs my neck, clamping tightly around my throat. I scream and thrash wildly, trying to hit my assailant. A deep chuckle spills from the man, and my blood runs cold.

I’d recognize his laugh anywhere.

“Found you, you stupid bitch ,” he whispers in my ear.

I buck harder, fighting against him with everything I’ve got. It’s not enough. His hand jerks down, clamping around my mouth, a thick cloth the only barrier between us.

When the sickly sweet smell of chloroform hits me, I know it’s over.

He’s won .