Page 162 of Roaring Flames

“You were such a cute little baby, sleeping in the car seat. I knew that you were meant to be mine.”

Shock plows me over as I attempt to register her words. I turn them over and over again in my head, trying to have them make sense.

“You told me I was a foster kid,” I whisper through numb lips. “You told me that I was bounced from house to house until you took me in when I was young.” I don’t remember anything from my foster years, but I always assumed it was because I was too young. “Mom, what did you do?”

“I had to protect you from the witches,” Mom whispers shakily. “They’re dangerous people, and you’re an innocent child?—”

“Did you…” My stomach turns in on itself. “Did youkidnapme?”

“We had to protect you.” Mom begins to shake her head rapidly. “You were innocent?—”

“Mom, answer the question. Did you kidnap me?” My tone holds more anger than I ever remember using with her.

I can barely breathe past the tightness in my throat.

“They killed your father, baby. My husband. When you were a child, they killed him.” Mom sets her mug on the table and reaches for my hands.

I pull them away before she can touch them. “Why did they kill him?”

Mom’s lower lip trembles, and she shakes her head stubbornly.

“Mom, answer me. Why did they kill him? Mom!”

“Because they discovered what he was!” Mom finally screeches, more tears cascading down her face. “Because they found out he was a Hunter.”

My breath leaves me. It’s suddenly way too damn hot in this house.

I push away from the table on shaky legs and stumble to my feet. I wonder if this is what it’s like to be drunk. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been drunk before.

“Ansel! Baby! What are you doing?” Mom asks in alarm as I move towards the front door.

“What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” I scream, spinning to face her.

Her eyes widen in shock at my uncharacteristic display of aggression.

“I’m leaving this fucking house!”

One of her hands flutters to her chest. “Why would you say such a thing?”

“You just confessed to me that I was kidnapped as a baby. That my adoptive father murdered people like me. What do you expect me to do?” I’m screaming now, but I don’t care.

“We saved your life!” Mom cries, stumbling towards me. “You would’ve grown up with the witches?—”

“I would’ve grown up with my parents!” I counter immediately.

Maybe I have siblings out there. Maybe I have grandparents or aunts and uncles.

“Tell me something, Mom, and I need you to answer me honestly.” God, I don’t want to ask this. It feels as if my insides are being systematically removed from my body, one organ at a time. “Are you a Hunter too?”

Mom begins to sob.

“Answer the question.” This time, I don’t yell. My tone is low and unyielding.

“Yes,” Mom whispers through her tears. “I used to be a Hunter.”

“What is wrong with you?” I ask in disgust.

I can’t even look at her anymore. I don’t know everything there is to know about Hunters, but I do know they kill supernaturals indiscriminately.

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