Page 32 of Watch Me Burn

Which is good. This is Alaska. It didn’t really dawn on me that I’m living out in the woods, basically neighbors with Alaskan wolves and grizzly bears, until my chat with Mayor Lou.

As I tuck the envelope under my arm, using my winter boot to erase the last of the yellow snow by kicking some of the fresh powder over it, the idea that this might’ve been a territorial marking pops into my brain.

But why would Conall piss outside my house? I still don’t know what kind of supe he is, though I’ve brainstormed with Elise when my ability to keep from bringing up the grumpy head of security fails for another night. We agree that he’s obviously not a vamp—as a vamp herself, Elise would instinctively recognize her own kind—and she’s pretty sure based on his movements and how he’s acted since our arrival that he’s a shifter.

What kind? No clue. It would be hysterical if he was, like, a hamster shifter or something. A teeny tiny prey animal when he shifts, it would make sense why he’s constantly scowling when he’s standing in front of me, a six foot lumberjack with melted gold eyes and a frown that irks me all the way to my bones…

Another kick and the yellow snow is covered. If that was his way of warding off a moose or a caribou or whatever else they have here, that’s on me. I don’t even really know that itwasConall. Just because the shadowy figure seemed to have his shape and size, and none of the other supes I’ve met in Dyea are as strapping and broad-shouldered as he is, doesn’t mean it was him. Elise keeps teasing me that I’ve had it out for him sincehis less-than-enthusiastic welcome. Maybe I have. Right now? I have something to do, and now that the snow’s covered, I’m ready to go.

I’m not too worried about heading out of the sanctuary. Sure, there are wild animals out there, but Dyea really is a ghost town. The trees have reclaimed the land over the last century, and any human residents live on the outskirts of it. I’d have to be super unlucky to run into another person out in the woods, and if it turns out to be a witch hunter?

Light ‘em up.

I’ve been practicing. When Elise’s thirst gets to be a little too difficult for her to ignore, she heads to her room. I don’t want to bug her when she’s already having a harder time of it than either of us expected, and I end up going upstairs to my assigned space.

With the window shades drawn and my door closed, I work with my fire. The way I see it, if I find the fire opal, it should help me get rid of my magic. What if I don’t? I have to look to the future. For the moment at least, I’m a fire witch. What good is being a fire witch if my magic is unpredictable and uncontrollable?

I’m playing at being a human. My secret’s safe so far, but the last thing I need is to get jumpy and accidentally shoot fire at one of the supes in the village. That means I need to learn how to wield it. It helps that I know what my trigger is, but I’d rather be able to call on the fire when I need it instead of it bursting free of me.

So if I need to protect myself in the woods or in the caves? I’m confident enough that I can.

It’s a good thing, too, because I start getting the all-too-familiar tingle in my fingers about ten minutes into my trek.

The map that the bus driver gave me was folded in half, with a drawing on each side of the page. One part illustrated where the entrance to the underground cave system is in comparisonto Dyea. The other is a guide through the connected caves, with two separate ones marked with a star. The stars mark the caves that Celeste believed might be the best spots to find the fire opal.

One problem: I’m shit when it comes to reading maps.

I’m okay with the dark. I’m good with enclosed spaces. None of that bothers me, but it’s frustrating how the endless amounts of trees make it difficult to navigate my way to the entrance. Add that to how I’m pretty sure the magic surrounding the sanctuary is working against me, trying to keep me inside its borders, and I’m paying more attention to where I’m going than what might be creeping up on me.

That was my mistake.

CHAPTER 11

CONALL

By the time the tingles start, followed by the shiver coursing up and down my spine, my sixth-sense that there’s someone behind me is too late.

It’s not a someone. It’s a something.

It’s a wolf!

Fuck. That’s a monstrous-looking wolf. I know Alaska has them, but that fucker ishuge. With thick white-and-grey fur, a sleek muzzle pulled away to show off its bared teeth, its ears arrowed back as it races toward me, it’s closer to a horse than a dog.

Oh,hellno.

Life or death. Fight or flight. An adrenaline spike is more than enough to get my palms a-blazing, and I only just remember to drop the paper map to the snow-covered ground before it incinerates in my gip before my entire hand is encased in flickering flames.

Folding my fingers together, using my pointer fingers together to aim, I let the fire fly.

The wolf sees it streaming right toward it and, mid-stride, twists its body as though desperate to avoid the fire catching its fur. One second, it’s coming at me. The next? It’s retreating.

Or ittriesto.

Once I see that the wolf is trying to get away, I instinctively stop pouring all of my panic and fright into my magic. The force of the fire dies almost instantly, though it was still strong enough to ignite the wolf’s tail.

My fire doesn’t hurt me. As soon as it catches fire on the tip of the beast’s tail, it yelps, turning in a quick circle as though, if it can get the tail between its jaws, it can get rid of the fire.

I can’t stop it. I almost feel like I should be able to. Like, that’s my fire, and if I could shoot it at the wolf, it should be as simple to call it back. I can’t, though, and I watch with a guilty pit in my stomach as the wolf stops running and drops back on its haunches, smacking the fiery tail against the snow to tamp out the flames.

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