Page 75 of Roaring Flames

“I’m hallucinating, aren’t I?” Jake whispers to me.

His face hasn’t yet regained the color it lost.

“If you are, then I am too,” I respond dazedly.

“Maybe it’s a mass hallucination.”

“You’re not hallucinating,” Gerry says as Hale trots around the corner, his discarded pants in his mouth.

There’s a shift in the air, almost like an electrical current that causes goose bumps to form on my arms, and then Hale returns, buttoning up his pants. Gerry throws him his shirt, and Hale takes it gratefully, pulling it over his broad shoulders.

“Shifters exist,” Hale says candidly, “as do a plethora of other supernatural creatures. Gerry and I…” He exchanges another unreadable look with his husband. “We find children who may have been lost in the foster care system, and we gradually help them adjust to our world.”

“I’m not… I’m not like that,” Jake says, shaking his head. A strand of blond hair flops in front of his face, and he brushes it away with a shaky hand. “I’m not… I can’t… I can’t turn into a wolf or anything. You’re wrong about me.”

“Jake, how did your family die?” Gerry asks.

The abrupt change in subject causes me to jerk upright, alarm careening through me.

Jake tenses. “How… What… Why does that matter?”

“There was a car accident when you were a boy, wasn’t there?” Gerry continues, his eyes holding Jake’s hostage. “Your father and grandparents died, but you and your mom survived.”

“Yes—” Jake swallows. His breathing has begun to turn ragged, shallow spurts of air that escape through chapped lips.

“But your mom committed suicide shortly after, correct?” Gerry presses.

I don’t know where he’s going with this line of questioning, but I hate the anguish I can feel emanating off of Jake in almost tangible waves.

“Is this really necessary?” I demand, protectiveness roaring through me.

Gerry turns sad eyes in my direction. “I wish it wasn’t, kiddo, but it’s time Jake knew the truth.”

“I don’t understand!” Jake throws his hands up in the air. His eyes are glassy with unshed tears.

“Your mom mentioned you in her suicide note, did she not?” Gerry continues, his tone gentle despite his callous words. “She said you were a mistake, an abomination.”

Jake opens and closes his mouth, momentarily at a loss for words. I reach for my foster brother and wrap my arms around him, desperate to quell his pain, desperate to hold him together. I hate seeing him like this. And I hate Gerry and Hale for poking at old wounds that haven’t seemed to heal.

“We’re not saying this to hurt you, Jake,” Hale whispers, his voice choked. “We just need you to understand.”

“Understand what?” Jake grasps my arms almost desperately, as if he’s afraid that if he were to release me, I’ll float away and be lost forever.

“You died in that car accident, kid.” Gerry’s voice drips with sympathy. “Your mother made a deal with a witch to bring you back. But…nobody can bring the dead back to life. Not truly. That magic has been lost for centuries now.”

Jake’s already shaking his head before Gerry has even finished speaking. I don’t know if he’s protesting the older man’s words or something else entirely, but his body trembles and convulses in my arms. All I can do is hold him even tighter, even closer, and rub my hand up and down his back in what I hope is comfort.

“The witch created a vessel out of clay and implanted it with Jake’s memories. Have you ever noticed that you never get hurt? Never bleed? That you’re stronger and faster than the average human?” Hale asks.

“No.” It’s a broken whisper.

“You’re what the supernatural world calls a golem, Jake. You’re not…” Hale swallows. “You’re not alive. You died back in that car accident. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Thirty

JAKE

“This song sucks,” I grumble from the back seat as I kick out my legs.

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