Looking around, Blade’s best guess was that the villagers had been rounded up, herded into a former temple, and the temple set on fire. Only blackened rubble now remained, but the sheer amount of rubble and ash was telling. No smoke rose from the cold cinders, which by rights should have smoldered for many days. The morning, once sunny and holding great promise, was overshadowed now by ominous, snow-tipped mountain peaks and the restless spirits of the dead, bound forever by demon fire to the ruins of an abandoned temple to some forgotten goddess.
“Dead,” he replied in response to her question. “Demon fire happened to them.”
“That’s not possible. Demons can’t cross beyond the boundary into this world anymore. They’ve been banished.”
Raven was adamant, but Blade knew she didn’t believe her own words. She herself had brought a demon at least part way to this world. That was not all. He remembered the blue flames beneath her skin. He did not know the full extent of her demon abilities.
“You can command fire,” he said slowly, thinking out loud. “Could you have done something like this with it?”
Confusion and hurt clouded her eyes. “You think I’m capable of doing something like this?”
He did not want to, but he could not afford to assume otherwise. She had two sides to her heritage. Blade had seen her demon side, and while it was one she controlled very well, what might happen if, for some reason, she lost that control?
The questions were ugly, but necessity demanded he learn the answers to them. “I believe anyone, pushed beyond their limits, will use whatever means they possess to strike back. Even mortals. I’m living proof of it.” He stared into the ashes rather than her eyes. “Everyone has limits. We have no way of knowing what happened here. Perhaps whoever did this felt threatened.”
Or simply hatred.
Despite the passage of years, Blade could not deny that he’d retained no love for Godseekers, or for any of the people who had turned a blind eye to the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of his uncle. How might spawn, with recently discovered demon abilities, react if they had led a life similar to his?
It was better for Raven if she acknowledged this potential instead of pretending it did not exist. At least they both would know what they were up against—unlike these poor people, who would have been caught unaware.
“What I’m asking you,” Blade continued, “is if you think spawn could have commanded demon fire to the level this would have required.”
Her tone cooled. “I only know what I can do, what I’m capable of. I can’t speak for others.”
“What can you do?” he persisted. “What do you believe you’re capable of?”
“Nothing like this.” She started to walk away from him, and the charred and blackened rubble.
He grabbed her arm. He would not let her ignore this. “These people died in a temple once dedicated to the goddesses, burned by what was undoubtedly demon fire. Do you not believe there’s any significance to it?”
She shook free of his hold on her. “How could I know that?” Her eyes began to glow with a faint but discernible bluish light. “Why are you doing this to me?”
He could not let any feelings he had for her interfere with finding out what had happened to these people, and keeping it from happening again. He pushed guilt aside. “You’ve sifted through my thoughts and emotions. My memories. It’s your turn to share. Show me what you can do with fire.”
She didn’t want to. She did not wish to acknowledge it. He could see it in her face. “You’ve already seen it.”
“I’ve seen you defend yourself,” he said. “I’ve seen you react to danger. I have no idea of your limitations or the extent of your control over your demon abilities. What happens if you lose it?” He gestured at the burned out temple. “Who else is in danger then?”
“Do you think I haven’t asked myself those questions?” The glow in her eyes intensified. “I can control myself.”
He did not know which of them she was trying to convince. “Prove it to me,” Blade said. “Show me what you can do.”
The diamond fire in her eyes sparked to flame. Her gleaming curls bobbed on a whisper of air as her entire demeanor changed. Hardened.
“I can tell people’s fears. I know you fear demons,” she said softly. “Are you afraid of me, too?”
Raven the mortal, he did not doubt. But the demon side of her was an unknown and seemingly separate entity, and she was not in as much control of it as she seemed to think. She was the one feeling fear now, and when Raven was afraid, her demon half surfaced.
How long could she fight it?
“No,” he said, allowing the truth behind his statement to surface for her to read more easily. “I don’t fear you.”
Her expression darkened. “Perhaps you should.”
From head to toe, she burst into blue flame. The sudden, intense heat drove him back a few steps, but she did not direct the fire outward.
Instead, he watched her struggle to contain it.
A mistake on her part, he saw almost immediately. She was burning from the inside out. If she did not release it, the fire would consume her.
She could die.
“Let it go!” he shouted at her. “Release it!”
He reached for her through the flames, his blood roaring in his ears and pounding hard in his temples. The sleeve of his leather coat heated and cracked as his scorched fingers snagged her arm.
The flames died away the instant he touched her. Then he had her in his arms. She shuddered, the spasms affecting him, too, as he cradled her against his aching chest and rocked her. The fire in her eyes was the last of it to fade, its bright embers lingering as he examined her for signs of injury.
“I hurt you,” she said, her breathing ragged and voice hoarse.
“No,” he assured her, ignoring the searing pain of the blisters rising on his burned hand. Not deliberately and not as much as he had hurt her. He kissed her cheek, still flushed from the fire, although her skin felt cool beneath his lips. A needle of ice pricked his spine as he understood what she had done. She had directed the fire inward in an effort to subdue her demon instincts, and without his intervention she would have died in the attempt.
And he had pushed her to it. He closed his eyes tight, imagining what could happen to Raven if she ever truly lost control.
“I’m not afraid of the demon in you,” he repeated, over and over. He held her tighter, the breath whooshing out of him as he realized that he would never be the same if he lost her. In the past, he had always stayed detached from other people’s lives—it was how he had survived all these years. But now that he had this woman, he could not extricate himself from her, no matter what her lineage. He could never harm her, or see harm come to her, because of him.
Her shaking gradually subsided. Blade released her, although he kept the blackened ruins from her line of vision. The rest of the town was devoid of life, its remote valley deserted. Whoever had done this terrible thing was long gone.
He thought of all the empty houses whose owners would never return. While Blade had gained greater insight into Raven—and at a cost—he had not learned much of real value with regard to spawn other than that they could, indeed, have caused this fire.
“We may as well fill our packs with the supplies we need before we leave,” he said. “These people won’t miss them.”
Chapter Ten
“Hold it like this.”
Raven listened carefully to Blade’s instructions, grasping the sword the way he showed her. The day was overcast, and her breath puffed in small clouds. With the taste and feel of snow in the air, she knew a storm was fast approaching.
It had been several days now since they had left the burned-out and decimated village behind them and eight since the night she had fled the fire in Goldrush. It felt like a lifetime had passed. Blade set a more difficult travel pace now that she was fully recovered from the goldthief bite, but this morning, when they rose from their blankets, he had looked at the heavy sky and called a break.