Page 60 of Bloodlust

"Okay," he says, hesitantly sitting down in front of the old woman.

I push whatever epiphany I'm supposed to have out of my mind as I listen intently to Hayden's reading.

"Huh..." the woman hums as she examines Hayden's palm. She glances at me briefly. "It is interesting..." She purses her lips, dragging her fingers in circles and lines. "It is like a mirror, I see." She looks up at Hayden. "You too have deep hurt but..." She pauses, swallowing. "But I feel fire in your lines, boy. You are not drowning in pain, no, you are burning in it. You have been burning for a long time. Long before you even knew what pain really was." She holds his hand, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Oh child, it's okay, you do not need to burn anymore." She takes a shaky breath. "There is nothing left to cleanse by fire. It is done. You can put out the flames now." She pauses, whispering, "You do not let yourself feel anything other than the searing pain of inferno...but you must let go, boy." She glances at me. "There is enough water in this world to put out even the greatest of fires. Find your water." She closes up his fist. "And feel something different for once."

Hayden clears his throat. "Uh-huh, right." Hechuckles in a scoff, glancing at me. "Think we're done here."

"Yeah." I reach into my pocket and pull out a one-hundred dollar bill. I hand it to the old woman. "Here."

"No," she says, waving her hand. "It is too much. I cannot take that."

"Well, I don't have anything smaller," I say with a shrug. "Take it or leave it." I look at Hayden. "Unless you got a twenty or something?"

"I don't carry cash," he says apologetically. He awkwardly smiles at the old woman. "Consider it your lucky day."

"Lucky day?" The old woman takes the bill from my hand and lets out a hoarse, croaking laugh. "There is no such thing as luck, my children." Her mystical gaze leaps between Hayden and me. "There is only...destiny."

We walk back to his office in silence.

Teetering the line between hope and despair.

Chapter 16

Bond

The ability to create fire was the cornerstone of mankind.

Warmth on the coldest of nights. Food that didn't kill you. Light when the sun fell asleep.

Fire meant survival.

And survival has always been the ultimate goal.

I need to find my fire. I need to make a decision soon. Time is running out. There are only ten days left until Alba leaves and the fate of The Angels is decided.

Survival is at stake.

We either become the fire.

Or get burned in its wake.

I stare at the jasmine-scented candle on my desk, its fitful orange flames flickering in my irises. Zoey said candles are soothing. She said it would help me relax. Concentrate. Focus.

She lied.

I hover my hand over the candle, the heat mildagainst my palm. It's not enough. I lower it an inch, my skin burning as I get closer to the outer blue flame.

How much can I take? How much pain can the human body handle?

I close my eyes, remembering Hayden's reading from a few days ago.

You are not drowning in pain, no, you are burning in it.

I wince as I lower my hand even closer to the candle. Pain makes us stronger. Like a blade forged by fire. How strong am I? My hand spasms as I will myself to fight the flame, fight the pain, become the pain, bond with it, become one. I can do it. I can be strong. I can?—

"Cami!" Zoey calls out, entering my office. Her pupils widen as I slowly remove my hand and lick my fingertips. "Oh my God, what were you doing?"

"Nothing," I say, pitching the flame. It sizzles and dies. I lean back in my chair. "Just playing with fire."