“Thank you,” I manage to say.
“Of course,” she replies. “Call me if you send any more people my way so I can meet them at the track. Stay safe. I love you.”
The line goes dead, and I haven’t even said the words back. I stare at my phone for a second, then turn and find Ryan still standing there.
“If you hurry, you can catch up with the others,” I tell him. “Skye will let them into the Lodge now.”
His expression takes on a mutinous cast. “I’m not a little kid anymore. I can help.”
“Ryan…” This is not the time to discuss this, and I need to return to the others to help put out the damned fires. Not to mention his parents will murder both of us if I send him anywhere near danger.
He crosses his arms across his chest. “Can you really afford to tell me no?”
Gods save me from smartass teenagers. “Fine,” I bark. “Go see to the livestock. See that their enclosures aren’t broken—some of the animals might have freaked out and tried to escape.”
He opens his mouth to argue, so I level him with a stern glare. In the end, he gives me a curt nod and runs off. He’ll still be close to others in the center of the village, but far enough from the fires so he hopefully won’t get hurt.
We fight the enchanted green flames for hours until whatever spell that sustained them wears off and they turn yellow again. Then it’s a matter of dousing them with ice-cold water from the bay. The drizzle keeps on going, helping to protect the other buildings from the sparks and heat. We’re lucky. If we were in the middle of a dry spell, this attack could have been catastrophic for the village.
As dawn breaks, exhausted people lean on one another as they stare at the ruined husks of the three buildings. Not much is left but the cornerstones and the charred remains of support beams. The magical fire burned hot, destroying whatever was inside the walls. I realize only then that it was Ryan Farrow’s house that burned down, and that his parents are now hugging him as they weep together for what they lost. I understand now his urge to help—he needed to dosomethingand couldn’t just stand by.
I need to go over there and assure them that they don’t have to worry: everyone will step together to rebuild, and even though they lost their home, there’s no way they’ll have to go through it alone.
But a shout rings out at the waterfront. Mary Rowe points at something out at sea.
At first, no one can make out what it is. The tide is bringing in a large shape. Sometimes, especially after a storm, the waves will wash up driftwood or big, heavy clumps of kelp, so it shouldn’t be so unusual. But whatever this is, it’s big.
“Is it a boat?” someone says behind me. “Maybe it overturned.”
“Nah,” someone else replies. “Too irregular in shape. I bet it’s a whale.”
Early morning light grows brighter as we all wait for the tide to come in. In the end, the shape becomes clear, and the world seems to tip to the side.
The sea has returned to us the large, scaly body of Devlin Ward.
Twenty
Skye
The Lodge has becomea refuge center of sorts, and we are out of space. I had no idea there were so many children in Amber Bay, likely because parents have been hiding them from me, but they’re all here now. The youngest, like little Ben Rowe, have been put to bed in Ty’s and Jack’s rooms by Mrs. Hobb and Miss Georgia while the rest are milling about downstairs, anxious for news from their parents.
I put the cartoons on in the main room, then guide a trio of eight-year-olds to the couch and ask them to look after Princess Penny to give them something to do. My old dog bears their clumsy brushing attempts with remarkable stoicism, and they calm down significantly. I put several high schoolers to work in the kitchen, preparing all the food we can find. Whenever the adults return to the Lodge, I’m sure they’ll be starved and tired after the long night of fighting the fires.
I keep myself busy to keep the panic from overwhelming me. I haven’t heard from any of the guys since Aiden called me, and I’m freaking out. As long as I have something to do, I won’t think about the fact that my old coven attacked the village. There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s them.
My breaths quicken, and my chest constricts. The knife I was using to chop onions for soup clatters to the stainless-steel counter, and I manage to dart into the pantry before I completely lose it in front of the kids. The door closes behind me, and I collapse against it, sliding down to the floor.
It’s a panic attack.
I put my head between my knees and drag a deep inhale through my nose.Fuck. My rational brain is telling me this horrible, tense sensation will pass, but I can’t catch my breath, and my lizard brain is clamoring that I crawl under the shelves and hide until all of this is over. Tears stream down my face, mingling with snot, and I muffle a sob by wadding up a dish towel and holding it over my mouth. If the kids see me like this, they’ll be even more afraid.
The thought sobers me up a fraction, enough for some of the pressure to ease off my chest. I take a tiny breath, then another.Fuck my family. Second by second, the gripping fear is replaced by anger inside me, first an ember of defiance, then a massive, consuming blaze.
Any allegiance I still felt toward them is gone. They’ve officially crossed a line by attacking civilians, and there’s no going back. I will do everything in my power to get them away from here and to protect the people who have given me not just shelter and work, but ahome.
I struggle to my feet and use the kitchen towel to wipe away my tears and snot. Then I take deep, cleansing breaths, even though an occasional hiccup still shakes my body. After we make sure everyone is safe, I will hunt down whoever is responsible for this and make them pay.
A tentative knock sounds on the door, and I swing it open to find a round-eyed girl staring at me. She’s probably fifteen years old and already taller than me, but she looks so young in her pajamas and braids.
