Page 51 of Hellfire

“We can’t let my grandfather get this symbol.” Luna shifted the mug between her palms. “What if he’s taken your powers, Blaze, to breach the djinn realm seeking this element?”

A real possibility. I had to find a way to get back there without the Guild apprehending me and imprisoning me.

Get the symbol,a dark voice resurfaced in my mind, and my body iced over, my stomach threatening to lurch.

No, not again.

Get it for me, and I will release you,the voice prodded.

I wasn’t getting it for anyone, least of all myself. Once I got back to the Academy, I was destroying that damn mind map before it fell into the wrong hands.

I rubbed my forehead and fought to banish the darkness from my thoughts. “Have you ever tried Polish food, Gable?”

Cooking for him and hanging out with him seemed like a fair exchange for the invaluable information we obtained. Information that must not get back to the Guild. Who knew what they might do with it?

My bonded’s eyes lost their worry and slanted with pleasure.

“I haven’t tried it,” he admitted.

“How about I cook it for you, Mary, and our girl?” I offered.

I needed something to forget the reappearance of the darkness. Something that conveyed my appreciation to Gable and extended a hand of friendship. Because something told me we were going to need each other more than ever soon.

Gable’s cocky grin flashed like a concert light. “You’re on, Hotshot.”

CHAPTER 18 - BLAZE

“No more!” Luna waved her hands at me. “I’m so full.” She rubbed her belly stuffed full of Polish appetizer dishes the four of us made. “If I consume another bite, I’ll explode.”

I lifted the slice of twarozek bread with jam and goat cheese with spices from her plate to her mouth. “It’s a Polish tradition to eat every bite and not let anything go to waste.”

At least, that was what my grandmother said. Clearly, I’d become the substitute Polish grandmother and forced my bonded, Gable, and his sister to eat until they couldn’t get another morsel in their mouths.

“That was delicious, Hotshot.” Gable puffed out his cheeks and reclined in his seat, stuffed from eating as well by the look it.

The last two hours passed without hearing from the darkness, and I began to wonder if I imagined it. If I was going crazy, my mind scarred by Camus’ filthy taint.

“What do you want to do with the rest of the food?” I asked him. “You’re welcome to keep the leftovers.”

“Thanks.” Gable grinned at me, then his sister, who gave us a shy smile. “We appreciate your generosity.”

It wasn’t generosity. It was a thank you. For the help with the biker. For taking good care of my girl. For rescuing me from Camus and saving me from the darkness.

Our host collected the plates, stacking them, and carrying them to the sink.

“Thanks for teaching us how to make theburaczki, mizeria, golabki.” He minced some of the pronunciations of the shredded beetroot dip, cucumber salad, and cabbage rolls, but I let him get away with it. The Polish language wasn’t easy to pronounce.

“I really enjoyed the potato pancakes,” Mary said.

Placki ziemniaczanewas the first dish myBabciataught my sister and me to make. Tonight, we served them with sour cream and applesauce.

I instructed them to make a variety of dishes, both meat and vegetarian, to cater for all tastes.

“That was just an introduction to Polish cooking,” I replied, lifting from my seat to assist with the clean-up and gathering the empty water glasses.

Gable’s place was old school and didn’t have a dishwasher, which meant he did everything by hand. Since I created the mess, I’d help clean it up.

Our host’s brow quirked. “Are you saying we’re getting another lesson?”

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