Page 119 of Fated Exile

My mother brushes a hand through my hair, and sorrow echoes through me as I realize that I'm wasting all my time with her talking about the last things I want to talk to her about. I can feel the pounding in the back of my skull grow with each pulse of my heart, a warning that this dream world wants to swallow me whole.

"I wish I had more time with you," I tell her, leaning into her gentle touch as she palms the side of my head. "There are so many things that I want to know."

"All you really need to know is that I loved you, and I did what I could to keep you safe.” Her fingers stretch beneath my hair and rub circles into my skin. "I'd tell you what you seek from Vivia, but the truth is, I don't know the answer myself. Gregor's dagger was never something the coven was told the location of, though if I had to guess, I'd say it was buried with him or stored somewhere near the forge where it was made."

"The forge?"

"Within these caverns." She motions around her. "The Glass Pack territory borders them to the south, and the Far Northern Pack to the west, though I have no doubt it's kept somewhere special to Gregor. Somewhere that would matter to the wolves. If anyone will know where it is, it's the pack. Maybe your father."

I swallow. "He died too."

"Oh." A moment of sorrow passes across her face. "That, I am sorry to hear."

"You haven't seen him? Is he—is he here?"

"If he is, he's with his mate, as it should be." Celeste gives me a gentle smile. "The bond both binds and strengthens. I'm sure that in death, he will have forgotten all about me, and the time we spent together."

"I don't want you to be alone."

"I'm not. I have my sisters." Taking my head in her hands, she drops a kiss on my brow, which is when I realize that the pain in my skull has spread so much that sweat is gathering at the edges of my forehead. "It's time for you to go, Delilah. I wish I could tell you more, but it's dangerous for the dead to speak to the living on things not yet known or knowable."

"I—what do you mean? What do you know?"

She looks up at me with a pained expression. "More I cannot say." Whirling, she looks into the darkness, and I swear for a moment her pupils reflect flames that aren't here. "Go! Now, Delilah. There's danger outside. Get out, get out!"

I tremble. Taking in a sharp breath, I force myself to say the word without thinking, without second-guessing it.

"Expergo."

My birth mother disappears the moment the word leaves my lips. Whiteness blots out the cave, and warmth licks at my skin. I gasp, suddenly realizing that my eyes have been closed this whole time, swimming towards awareness in my body moment by painful moment.

Fingers digging into my arms.

A sob, breathless, full of fear and grief. "Delilah, Delilah please! Wake up, wake up. We have to go, now!"

Kerry is wrenching at my arms, breathless and red-faced. She's dragged me from the recliner and pulled me to the carpet, out the office and towards the stairs. A mad glint burns in her eyes, and her arms strain to take my weight.

I groggily re-enter the world of the waking and jerk upright, grabbing onto her shoulders and lifting myself to my feet. "What's going on?"

"Thank god you're awake." Tears streak down her face, making tracks in a strange grey dirt on her skin. She pushes me towards the stairs, shaking her head, "No time, no time. The fire is spreading quickly."

"What fi—"

I turn to see the office behind me engulfed in flames.

My mind is barely able to comprehend it. Kerry said that hours would pass in the real world, and she was right. There's sun shining in through the windows as I stumble down the stairs towards the front door, thankful that the lower level of the house isn't on fire.

By the time we're both out onto the front porch, the flames have licked towards the roofs and dropped down below.

"Delilah!" The screaming voice is Cat, who tries to throw herself at me only to be checked by Niall's strong arms, which are encircled around her waist tightly. "Let me go, you buffoon. I'm not going back in there!"

"Not on my watch."

He lets Cat go, and she runs into my arms, throwing herself like a football. I cough, the smell of her smoky and fire-burnt. Her hair has been shorn away by flames, and soot covers the side of her face.

"Kerry said she was the only one who could get you because of the fire-protective spell," she sobs, fisting her hands in my shirt, "but I swear I would walk through fire for you, my Lilah."

"I know you would, but you shouldn't," I tell her, hating that the fire is still growing, licking up and down the house with no relief in sight. "I'm a werewolf, Cat. I can survive a few burns. You're human—you would've burnt to a crisp."

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