“Is that why you became a priest?”
He gets a distant look in his eyes. His life was so long ago—hundreds and hundreds of years—but with the curse, it’s almost as if no time has passed for the guys. The pain is still there, and I know there’s more to Jacques’s past than any of us know.
“One of the reasons.” He holds out his hands. “Try again.”
“I’m scared I’ll burn you.”
“You won’t.”
“I could.”
His lips curve into a smile. “You have to figure out how to use your powers first.”
“Ah, right. So you have nothing to worry about.”
“You can do this, Ace. Stop thinking about how and focus on what you feel.”
Nodding, I inhale and close my eyes. Letting out my breath, I think back to chasing the thief in the alley. The way my heart raced. The knife in the guy’s hand.
The way he looked at me like I was a stupid, helpless woman.
“Dig deeper,” Jacques instructs.
I try to bring up the anxiety I felt when Jared pulled into the driveway and the worry it brought on if anyone were to see the guys waking up. It’d be like losing part of me if something happened to them. My feelings for them have grown, and I know they feel the same. My fingertips start to buzz with energy.
And then my thoughts shift, and suddenly I’m standing in my childhood home, not understanding why my bare feet are slipping on the hardwood floor. I call out for my mom. Something is wrong. I don’t know what, but I can feel it.
Mom doesn’t answer.
Neither does Dad.
The strong smell of sulfur fills the air, filling my nostrils and making me feel sick. I blink in the dark, crossing the living room to find the light switch. Before I get there, I trip over something.
Something large and heavy.
The room is dark. I can’t see anything. But that thing I tripped over…it smells like Mom’s perfume.
Fire erupts from my hands, and I yank them back just in time. Opening my eyes, I watch the flames shoot upward, blurring the air around them with heat. My heart is still racing, and no matter how hard I stare into the fire, I still see Mom’s lifeless eyes. I still smell the sulfur and the blood. I still remember the way my feet slipped out from underneath me when I finally turned on the light.
Falling into a puddle of the blood pouring out of Dad’s head.
“Ace,” Jacques calls. “That’s enough.”
The fire grows taller. Embers fall to the couch beneath, and Jacques pats them out. I ball my fists and wait for the flames to die down.
“You did it,” Jacques says with a smile on his face. I wish I could return his excitement, but my mind is still in nine-year-old Ace’s head, finding her murdered parents all over again.
“Ace?”
My lip quivers, and everything else comes rushing back. All the repressed emotions. The shit I went through and the anger I never dealt with over my uncle passing me off like I was nothing.
I close my eyes and turn away, but not in time to hide the single tear that drips down my cheek.
“Ace,” Jacques whispers softly. He wipes away the tear and pulls me into an embrace. I relax against him, listening to his heart beating. It’s slow and steady, and is the only thing calming me down right now.
“It’s all right,” he soothes, running his hand over my hair. His touch is so gentle, so intimate. I don’t want him to let me go. “Where did you go?”
“Back to the night I found my parents.”
