“Resting is a good idea,” Jacques assures me with a smile. I know he’s saying it on my behalf, knowing that it’s hard for me to kick back and do nothing when something like this ice-demon hangs over my head.
“You’re right,” I tell them, knowing I have to appease them first before I go into full curse-breaking mode. Though another part of me knows, really knows, that I’m not going to get any closer tonight. And maybe I should just enjoy one night with the guys. Because who knows if I’ll even be alive tomorrow. “And I’ve been meaning to burn that big pile of branches and sticks out back. It’s a nice night. We can have a bonfire.”
“What’s a bonfire?” Hasan asks.
“Basically a really big fire,” Gemma tells him.
“What’s the point?” His dark eyebrows push together.
“It’s like a social thing, I guess,” Gemma goes on. “Usually, you have music and drinks and have a party outside around the fire.”
“Sounds like a ritual.”
Gemma and I laugh. “It does,” I say. “I’ve never thought about it like that. And I assure you, it’s not.”
“There was a fire at the party we went to,” Jacques tells everyone. “By the swimming pool. But it had no kindling.”
“It’s a gas fire pit.”
Gilbert looks at the oven. “Like that?”
“Yeah.”
Gemma is slowly shaking her head back and forth. “I’m totally fine with you all being half gargoyle. Like that’s a nonissue for me. But it’s still so hard to comprehend that you basically time traveled a thousand years.”
“I’m kind of sad I missed the ’20s,” Thomas says, shaking his head. “The 1920s, I mean. I would have been a good gangster.”
Gilbert rolls his eyes. “Keep telling yourself that.”
* * *
“You should note,most bonfires aren’t started this easily.” I curl my fingers into my palm and put out the flames surrounding my hand.
“And you didn’t even use any lighter fluid,” Gemma jokes.
“Lighting a fire was a necessary skill in our time,” Jacques says, a little distantly. “With your heaters and gas-powered stoves, I suppose not knowing how to light a fire is normal.”
“Right.” I step back from the flames, watching them rise into the night sky. The guys arranged the branches the “right way,” as they called it, and then I used magic to start the fire. It’s burning big and bright, and it’s the first time I’ve been around a large fire since I’ve discovered I have fire power of my own.
There’s something about it that’s calming. Soothing. But still dangerous.
Since I don’t own lawn chairs, we brought out the bench and the rocking chairs from the back porch and a few blankets to spread on the ground. I take a seat on the bench next to Jacques. Afraid of being seen by a neighbor, the guys are all wearing their concealment charms.
“This is nice,” Jacques says, and wraps his arm around me. “You need this.”
“Yeah.” I rest my head on his shoulder, feeling rather emotional, which is so not me. I don’t cry. I’m not sappy. So why is something so simple as this bonfire making me choke up?
Deep down, I know, and I don’t want to let myself think about it.
“You’re going tomorrow, aren’t you?” Jacques asks softly. I close my eyes and a single tear escapes.
“Yes. I don’t have a choice.”
