“I want her back.” My lips curved, not quite a smile, but close. “She’s forgotten who she is, but the Flame remembers. It always remembers.”
The man shifted, uneasy. “You’re sure you want her back?”
“She is my vessel,” I said. “That never changes. The soul burns forever.”
He studied me under the weak dashboard glow of his truck. “She’s… different.”
“Freedom will do that to a vessel,” I said, calm. “It corrupts what was pure. But she can be cleansed again. All things can.”
He hesitated, then asked, “What do you need from me?”
My gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the city lights flickered like distant embers. “Stay close. Watch. Listen. The man she’s with, find out what he means to her. I want information on Malik and where he’s being kept.”
“And if they figure out I’m snooping around?” he asked.
“They won’t.” My voice gentled, almost tender. “And she remembers the fire, even if she pretends she doesn’t. It calls to her. When the time comes, she’ll return to its light willingly.”
He tucked his hands into his pockets. “I’ll keep you informed.”
I placed a hand on his shoulder—a slow, deliberate gesture of blessing. “Do not fail. The flame burns hotter for those that don’t.”
He murmured his assent, turning back toward the truck. Gravel crunched beneath his boots. The headlights flared, blinding for a heartbeat, before the vehicle rolled away into the night.
As I stepped back into darkness, the glow painted my smile holy.
“Soon,” I whispered. “My vessel returns.”
The truck’s taillights faded down the road, leaving me alone with cicadas and the faint hiss of cooling metal.
I closed my eyes and felt heat rise in my chest. Not anger. Not fear.
Faith.
The Flame had not abandoned me. It had simply waited.
And now, at last, it was hungry again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE NIGHT FELTheavier than usual. Even insideHigh Voltage, something felt off. Ruby humming under her breath as she cleaned just like every other night. Nothing out of the ordinary. I told myself it was exhaustion. Just another long day trying to adjust to this new world.
Ruby wiped the counter, head tilting. “You good?”
“Yeah.” Too fast. Too light. My fingers trembled when I reached for the towel. Ruby didn’t comment, but the look she gave me said she saw too much.
When the last table cleared, she tossed a goodnight over her shoulder and slipped out the side door. High Voltage fell into that strange after-hours quiet—still, watchful, like even the wallswere holding their breath. I cleaned. Gathered glasses. Wiped tables. Simple tasks. Grounding tasks.
Then the smell hit.
Smoke.
Not from the kitchen. Not a stray cigarette.
Older. Thicker. Wrong.
It crawled up my spine before memory even caught up. The kind of smoke that filled punishment pits, soaked into hair and skin, clung to the back of your throat like a warning.
My breath stuttered. “BoBo?” I called toward the kitchen, my voice too thin. “You still here?”
