Page 78 of The Fire Went Wild

“Someone knows,” I gasp. “Someone knows you killed Dennis Randall and I killed Oliver Raffia and they’re gonna connect us and?—”

Jaxon’s arms are wrapped around my shoulders before I totally understand what’s happening. He pulls me into his chest, his body warm from repairing the fence, and makes soft little shushing sounds against my hair.

“Look at this!” I cry, shoving the phone at him.

He takes the phone and balances it on top of my head as he reads. I press my cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It’s slow. Calm.

“The ULS,” he mutters. “I should have fucking known.”

“You know what that is?”

“The Undying Lineage of the Stars,” he says. “It’s a group of human demon worshippers.”

“Demons?” I bark out a laugh. “Is that what you are?” I can’t bring myself to saywe, and the question feels absurd anyway. It reminds me of my childhood, of my insanely religious parents. Demons were everywhere. I stopped believing in them when I left home at seventeen.

“No,weare not demons,” Jaxons says firmly.

My face burns hot.We. I’m not like him.

You’re exactly like him.

“And demon isn’t really the right word, just the easiest.” He slides his phone into his pocket and squeezes my shoulders, making me look at him. “Hey, don’t worry, okay? These Occult Underground groups are always gunning for each other, okay? They’re like gangs, going after each other for encroaching on someone’s turf.”

“So why did you have to kill two people involved with them?” I shoot back. “Are you in one of these magic wizard gangs?”

Jaxon grins, but I see the flash of worry in his eyes. “No, cher. I’m not in a magic wizard gang. But it’s possible they got themselves entangled with my gods, and that was why I was sent to them.” He runs his thumb over my cheek, and despite my best efforts, I shiver beneath his touch. It is reassuring, even though it shouldn’t be.

“I don’t want to go to jail,” I mutter, which feels trite in comparison to the enormity of terror I’m currently experiencing. It’s not just about jail. It’s about the threat of some cosmic punishment. Looking up Oliver Raffia made him real to me.

I’m a monster.

Jaxon sighs and pulls me into an embrace. “I won’t let that happen,” he says softly. “You’re my responsibility now. I’ll keep you safe.”

I know I should pull away from him. I know I should run and turn myself in and end this all before it gets even more out of hand.

I can’t imagine why anyone would do this to him.

And that’s the really fucked thing.

Because I don’t know either, even though I did it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

JAXON

Charlotte goes to bed early that night, disappearing upstairs after the dinner I make for her. I can sense her sleeping—her slow heart rate and steady breathing, and I admit I creep up there when she’s really under and watch her. I don’t touch her, though. Just watch her, and worry.

I didn’t lie to her about the Occult Underground stuff, but I didn’t tell her the whole truth, either. No, Hunters aren’t demons, but those occultists know that we aren’t human, and they’ll trap us for their own purposes. They’ll try to trap our gods, too. And I suspect that’s why the Unnamed and my Guardian sent me to kill Randall and Raffia.

I’ve killed for my gods for so long that I don’t question why. I give them the blood they want. The violence. I collect the body parts for my own purposes. But now I see it all through Charlotte’s eyes, and I can understand why it worries her—why her heart’s jumping around in her chest as she sleeps, why she’s no doubt having dark dreams she’ll forget when she wakes.

I slip through the shadows and sit carefully on the edge of the bed and run my fingers over her hair, wondering if this touch—not sexual, not invasive—will calm her. She murmurs a little and shifts beneath the blankets. But she doesn’t wake up.

“Guardian,”I whisper softly, the gods’ language curdling on my tongue, “Should I be worried?”

The air in the room stirs. The shadows gather. The hairs on my arms stand on end, and cold, deathly fingers trail across the back of my neck—a touch more familiar to me than my mother’s.

“You are a Hunter,” it whispers. “There’s nothing for you to fear.”

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