I allowed my Hellfire to gather in my palm. The overeager black flames formed a large ball, its heat brushing threateningly across my face. Adding to the throbbing in my head, I attempted to shrink it.
It resisted me.
We’re trying to light the fire, not consume the fireplace.
The semi-sentient flame bent to my will and shrank to the size of a pea.
I guess that’d do.
“Move, Oli.”
He stepped aside, and I threw my Hellfire at the coals. The tiny black flame crawled across the dark chunks, slowly devouring them as its heat licked up the log, igniting it. Black fire edged in violet danced around the wood, filling the sitting area with heat and shadows.
He stepped back, staring at the fire like it might bite him.
“Do we need to be concerned about it eating anything else?”
“I guess we’ll find out,” I teased.
He side-eyed me, lifted a blond brow, gave the fire one last considering glance, then plopped down beside me.
I covered us with the afghan and snuggled into his side.
“So your mom…”
“My mom.” I sighed.
Then I told him about the dream-walk, the notebook with the prophecy, and the Guardian Rune in the margins.
Oliver’s silence spoke volumes.
“Oli?”
“Sorry, I’m trying to decide if I want to be a good friend and disregard the fact that you never told me about this prophecy and the fact that your mother thought your father was going to kill you, and just stew in my off time, or yell at you for keeping it from me for so long.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I think most of it has already happened.”
“Most,” Oliver murmured, squeezing me tighter into his side. “Except for that middle part, huh?”
“Maybe the last line too. Unless we assume the whispering ice was my father in Elora.”
Oliver lifted his free arm, and I didn’t even need to look to know his hand was buried in his blond locks.
“I’m more concerned with that middle part, Lucille.”
I pulled out of his arms and looked into the concerned fury dancing in his flaming green eyes.
Shit.
“Doesanyone else know?”
I swallowed, daring to shake my head.
He turned away, his hand fisting in his hair like he’d rip it out.
“Dammit.”
He yanked me back into his side and squeezed.
