Through the Fire (Daughter of Fire, #1)
Michelle Irwin
CHAPTER ONE
I WAS HALFWAY up my drive when I saw them.
The three delicate star-shaped flowers rested against my doorstep. Magnolias; wrapped in soft cream paper. A sure sign the one person from my past who knew my secrets had found me.
The one who wanted me dead.
I froze as a prickle crept along my nape. My fingers curled into a fist and the air around me warmed by a few degrees; my body’s natural reaction to stress.
On any other doorstep, the bouquet might’ve been nothing more than a well-intended gift. On mine, it was the sign of something far more sinister.
My gaze traveled the length of the road, scrutinizing each of the cars parked nearby. Was someone watching me? A spark of heat leaped into my fingertips. I flexed my fingers so the heat didn’t bite into my palm.
Clay can’t be here . . . Can he?
If it was Clay though, how did he find me? How could that even be possible?
Neither Dad nor I had the slightest suspicion that danger lurked nearby. If we had, we would’ve been miles away long before the flowers could have turned up. We were usually adept at avoiding exposure.
We had to be. It could prove deadly otherwise.
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention as it hit me. It was absolutely possible it was Clay. It was what he did after all.
Hunt.
Kill.
Destroy.
My skin flushed with heat; warming until the air around me hissed. I clenched my jaw as my heart thumped harder and my skin sizzled.
Despite that, my stomach fluttered with the recollection of what those flowers represented. The things Clay had once meant to me before the afternoon we had walked together beneath a canopy of white magnolias.
That was when everything changed.
When I’d learned he wanted to kill me, not date me.
A shudder raced down my spine.
Pushing the memories aside, I scanned the houses around me. My gaze trailed over the windows. I watched each one for a second, trying to see the telltale fluttering of curtains or shutters snapping closed when my eyes fell onto them. Once I had reassured myself there was no one watching, I bent to examine the floral package in more depth.
They weren’t a gift. I was certain of that much. Clay wouldn’t give someone like me flowers. Only, nothing else made sense. From what I understood about his family, the flowers couldn’t have been a threat.
After all, people . . . monsters like me didn’t get warnings.
Only death.
I reached out and pushed the paper aside to see if there was a card or note anywhere on the offering. The flowers started to wilt, so I drew my hand away and gave my fingers a gentle shake before clenching them into a fist.
Calm down, Evie.
In an attempt to follow my own advice, I took a deep breath and released it slowly. With each new breath, I concentrated on slowing the pace of the blood racing through my body.
It was possible it was nothing to worry about. Simply a gift from an overly friendly neighbor. It made more sense than the possibility that Clay had found me and left a gift. Maybe it was just a coincidence that someone selected that particular type of flower. It wasn’t as if magnolias belonged solely to Clay.
I wasn’t sure I believed in coincidences that significant though.
Especially considering that Dad and I had already been in the house for a little over two weeks and were careful about timing our comings and goings to avoid too much attention. Who would have become interested enough in those fleeting glimpses to leave flowers?
Still, I was determined not to panic . . . yet.
When I was confident I’d calmed myself enough to investigate without destroying the flowers, I leaned forward and pulled the paper away to examine both sides.
Blank.
I folded up the paper and pushed it into the pocket of my jeans before reaching for the flowers and standing with them in my hands.
Turning back toward the street once more, I scanned the whole street to ensure I hadn’t missed anything. I swallowed down my fear when I saw it was still empty.
There was such a thing as being too cautious after all. It was just as dangerous to overreact and uproot our existence so soon after settling again. Until I could understand the reason behind the flowers, there was no point taking any drastic action. Dad would probably disagree with me, especially considering his reaction to Clay the last time. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him though. If it turned out to be something that we needed to worry about, he’d be the first person I told.
Once I was satisfied that it still appeared that nothing was amiss on the street, I took the flowers inside the house.
“Evie, is that you?” Dad’s voice came from somewhere deep in the darkness of the house.
Who else would it be? I thought before I caught another glimpse of the flowers in my hand. Maybe that’s a bad question.
On the day we’d moved in, we’d drawn every curtain in the house. None of them had been pulled back since. It was the only way to shield us from prying eyes. The fact that the lights were off—having no electricity alleviated our choice in the matter—only added to the darkness inside so it was hard to make out anything in the abyss that made up the living area of the house. At least until my eyes adjusted.
“Yeah,” I answered, reaching my free hand up to rake off the dark-brown wig that hid the true color of my hair, an array of gold, reds, and copper tones all resting side by side. Even though the wig bothered me more often than not, I had to keep my hair hidden. When I wore it loose, it framed my face in flame-like curls that made it easy to identify what I was for anyone who knew what they were looking for. I pulled out the hairtie before shaking loose the braid I’d set before leaving the house that morning.