Witches Burn at Dawn ✔

28. Mir

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Nilam's little lair at his nightclub feels overcrowded with all of us here. I hear Ady and Kadri fidgeting on the couch behind my back, Laverna's fingernails drumming against the bookshelf, Yaroslava's restless feet moving back and forth around the room. I stare out the window, at the empty roof and the sunbathed city beyond, trying to find a distraction.

I can't.

"And that's how you plan to catch a serial killer?" Ady asks, his voice incredulous. Yaroslava and Nilam start explaining something, but Ady cuts them off. "Terrible. No."

"It's amazing!" Yaroslava counters. Jasna's long pleated skirt suits her just as terribly, and I hate my eyes for shooting sideways at her every time she passes near me. But this skirt outlines her silhouette so well..."Instead of chasing the wind, we force the wind to chase us."

"Using Jasna as bait? No way."

"She'll be fine. She's practically stone-skinned now, neither the natural nor the supernatural can harm her."

"I think it's a good plan," Lav interjects, her tone cautious.

Ady snorts.

"Do tell if you have a better idea, Adélard," Yaroslava hisses at him. I keep my trained eyes on the city landscape when she walks inches away from me again. She sounds neither uncertain nor weak as she used to only a few days ago when she just woke up from the abyss. No, her voice is full of determination, of eagerness to take the matter into her own hands, to take over the control. The feeling I know well, that excites, that fills you with power. She's made her decision.

Her decisions were what got her killed once, I remind myself. And yet she never gives up. Stubborn hope woven into the air about her sinks its claws into me from behind, poisoning, taunting. She's lost her family, she's ruined her life, she's died, and she's still hopeful? There must be a trick. A person should be exceedingly stupid or extremely cunning to appear that way. And she's not stupid.

I remember the touch of her fingers on the scars of my back, and it sends a shiver of warmth down my spine again. I haven't shown my scars to anyone, I've put an effort to cover them for my whole life. And now I've opened up to Fire Girl, got lost in a moment, believed her eyes lit with empathy.

She was supposed to call my scars ugly! She was supposed to say that I must have deserved them.

And she didn't say it. Why didn't she?

No, it's a trick. She's desperate to stay alive, she doesn't care for anyone. She doesn't actually trust me but merely wants to be trusted. And she'll ruin everything on her way to her goal as she always does. Her feelings can't be real. Neither can mine.

But if I see all that, why does my mind fail to follow the logic?

I need to think of something else. Otherwise, I'll go crazy.

I turn to the others, ignoring Yaroslava who's stopped too close to me. "It's not a good plan." I ignore her, but she's close enough for me to extend my hand and hold hers. So close. "And it's definitely not perfect, but it's the only one we have. There's a problem though. What do you suggest to do once we trap the killer in that Bloodcage of yours?"

Yara's resolve falters as she and Nilam share a glance. Nilam looks away quickly, yet I catch a glimpse of his eyes, feverishly bright. He's not waiting for us to agree to this plan. He's lost family, too, he knows the sorrow the magic can cause, and now he's ready for his vendetta.

Perhaps that's why he and Yara team up so effortlessly--they understand each other. And none of them needs me.

Shit. Is it what they call jealousy? It was easier to feel nothing.