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"Where's Julian?" I cried frantically, trying to see through the flames. I jumped aside as the speckled brown hen flew through the window, squawking, and hit Luca in the chest. A second later, Julian climbed through, the book of rites clutched to his broad chest, the white hen under his other arm.
"Come on," Luca said, pulling me toward him.
We backpedaled until the heat of the fire no longer felt as though it was singeing my eyebrows off. Julian had picked up the brown hen and was stroking her, his expression unreadable.
"Well," he said at last, as the west wall of the cabin collapsed with a crash, sending flames and sparks shooting heavenward. "Fuck."
"Fuck is right," Theo said. But he wasn't looking at the cabin—he was staring at me. In fact, so was Luca. Both of them seemed slightly stunned, as though I had suddenly sprouted antlers.
"Now are you convinced?" Luca said, glancing sidelong at Theo.
Theo never took his eyes off me. His face, though streaked with soot, was pale. "Getting there," he muttered.
I looked from Luca to Theo, to Julian, still gazing at his burning, crumbling home. "Why do I feel like I'm missing something?" I demanded.
No one answered. No one even moved. Theo just kept staring at me with that strange, stricken expression.
"Excuse me." I waved a hand in front of his face. "Can someone tell me what just happened?"
Julian turned his head incrementally, lifting an eyebrow. "House burned down."
"I can see that," I snapped.
"You really don't remember?" Theo said.
I felt like throwing something. "If I did, would we be having this conversation right now?"
Julian flinched as a second wall fell, taking the thatched roof with it. "Damn," he muttered. "Had plans for that fireplace."
"What happened?" I asked, feeling slightly desperate. I turned to Luca. "Luca—did she do this?"
He looked away. It was answer enough.
"How?" I whispered, my chest starting to ache.
Theo's gaze went from my face to my hands, and I looked down. Remembered, suddenly, the dream: the shower of sparks dancing at my fingertips, the unquenchable desire to burn.
I clenched my fists. It had been real. The dream, the flames—I'd set this fire. "I could have killed you," I choked out, reaching for Theo.
If he had flinched backwards, if he had pulled away, I think my heart might have broken. But he didn't. He met me halfway, his fingers twining with mine, pulling me close to him and drawing my hands up to his chest.
"You'd have to work a lot harder than that," he murmured into my hair, and I felt my eyes fill with tears of fear and relief.
Behind me, I heard Luca's voice. "Well?"
Julian sighed. "Yeah."
I pulled away from Theo, my pulse picking up. "You'll do it? The ritual?"
Julian didn't meet my eyes. He set the hen down and retrieved the book from where it had fallen on the grass. "I don’t have much choice, do I?" he said grimly, tucking the book under his arm. “Asking her to leave didn’t exactly work.”
“Maybe if he had actually asked, instead of making a joke of it,” Theo muttered, glancing at Luca.
But for the first time in days, I tasted hope. "When?"
Julian looked again at the burning wreckage of his home and sighed. "Looks like it'll have to be soon," he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Luca's keys. "Town," he said, "and once we’ve rested, we’ll begin."
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