He released Barrett, and the werewolf slid to the floor, his knees buckling beneath him, but his gaze never wavered from my pale face. “I—I didn’t know.”

“You weren’t supposed to. No one’s supposed to know,” I said with a shrug. “Do you think I want chaos in my domain? Besides, there’s a slim chance I might actually survive this.” I had no doubt that my brittle smile was completely unconvincing, but I had to try. I didn’t want his pity. I just didn’t want him causing problems while I was trying to take down the naturi nation by starting rumors like the nightwalkers were making bargains with the naturi. I could only fight one war at a time.

Stepping over to Barrett, I extended my hand to him, offering to help him to his feet. He hesitated, staring at my ghostly white hand for a few seconds before finally taking it and allowing me to help him up.

“I know this looks bad, but we’ve been friends for many years,” I said, refusing to release his warm hand. “I’ve never betrayed you. I’m not about to start now when I need your friendship the most. If things go bad in Peru, there is a chance that everything could fall into chaos here. I expect Knox to take my place as Keeper of this domain. I would like to leave here with the knowledge that you will have his back.”

“I’ll stand by Knox. But who will have your back?”

“The hunter.”

Barrett shook his head. “You’re the only person I know who would surround herself with her enemy as a way of protection. Survive this, Mira.”

The werewolf pulled his hand free and silently walked out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

My knees trembled and I wished I could crumple to the floor. My nights were undoubtedly numbered and my life was going to end in pain. And my closest companion, the one I would depend on to protect my back, was a man that had killed more nightwalkers than I cared to count. Why did I find such easy companionship with those that wanted me dead? Danaus. Jabari. I even seemed to have more in common with Ryan, despite the fact that the warlock had ordered my death. Maybe I had developed some secret death wish. Too many years on this earth had made me weary of this heavy coil. Whatever the reason I surrounded myself with people with such a lust for my blood, the result was going to be the same in the end. I would go to Peru and stop Rowe with Danaus at my side and Cynnia under my heel.

The car ride out into the Georgia wilds was painfully silent. Danaus sat in the backseat with Cynnia, while Shelly occupied the passenger seat beside me. A couple times the perennially sunny witch took a breath to make a comment, but seemed to quickly release the air again when the words continued to elude her. It was better this way. I didn’t need the idle chatter to annoy me when my thoughts were solely focused on what lay ahead.

We were venturing out into the woods, where I could be as close to nature as possible, in hopes of someone being able to teach me something about earth magic. In my mind it was my last hope in gaining an edge over Rowe and the other naturi; it was my only chance of survival if Aurora was actually released from her cage. But by the mood in the car, I was beginning to have my doubts as to whether what I wanted would be enough to save myself and those around me.

I pulled the car off the expressway and drove for more than an hour along one winding rural road after another until there were only trees and farmland for as far as the eye could see. At long last I pulled off onto a rutted dirt road that seemed to burrow down into a grove of trees. Once the car was off the road and unlikely to attract the attention of anyone who might randomly drive by, I put the car in neutral and killed the engine.

“Everyone out. We’re here,” I announced, opening my car door.

“Where exactly is here?” Shelly said as she got out of the car and looked over the roof at me.

“Middle of nowhere, middle of the woods,” I said, flashing her a wolfish grin. “I thought this would be the best place to practice in the event that anything caught on fire or worse.”

“Good logic,” Cynnia muttered behind me as she shut her door.

The trio of oh-so-happy campers followed me deeper into the woods. While Danaus, Cynnia, and I had perfect night vision, Shelly wasn’t quite so lucky. She lagged behind the group, stumbling over broken branches as she struggled to see in the pitch-black darkness. Finally, Danaus took her elbow so he could guide her through the woods.

I halted the hike by a narrow stream filled with ankle-deep water that flowed over smooth, algae-covered stones. Standing in the middle of the stream, I tried to ignore how my feet cooled as the water flowed over my leather boots while I lifted my arms over my head. My eyes fell almost completely shut in concentration as I reached deep within myself. Around us, five balls of fire flickered into existence and hovered overhead, beating back the darkness.

“This is my power—the creation and control of fire,” I announced to my companions. My strong, steady voice seemed to echo through the empty woods. “I’ve been able to do this since I was human. The power is fueled from the energy created by my soul. If I use it too much, I grow tired.”

“And you retained this ability even after your conversion from human to nightwalker,” Cynnia stated, settling on the bank of the stream, her eyes staring up at the fireball closest to her.

“I retained my soul, so I retained the ability.” I lowered my arms back to my sides while I extinguished two of the five fireballs. “But then, all nightwalkers are limited to soul magic, or blood magic as it is commonly known among my kind. We lose our connection to the earth when we’re reborn.”

“I’m confused,” Shelly said, speaking up. She carefully stepped down the bank to the edge of the stream so she was standing only a few feet away from me. Only Danaus remained higher up on the rise, looking down on us three, half hidden by the shadows. “If nightwalkers are limited to blood magic, why have you asked us to teach you earth magic? By your own admission, it should be impossible.”

“But then so is my unique ability in both human and nightwalker form,” I added, arching one brow at her. “What human have you known that could create fire? That’s the realm of witches and warlocks, and only the more skilled. I was breaking the rules the day I was born.”

“That logic doesn’t mean you can break them all,” Danaus called down at me, a smirk filling his tone.

“But I’ve already broken this next one,” I said, my gaze sliding from the hunter to Cynnia. “At the swell on the island of Crete, I could feel the energy from the earth. It pressed against my skin, and when I used my ability, it entered me. I could use that power from the earth to fuel my fire, instead of using the energy from my soul.”

“Amazing,” she breathed.

“Yes, but I couldn’t control it. It was pure raw energy that had found an outlet. I couldn’t stop it, and I couldn’t push it into any other kind of spell. There was only the need to create fire.”

“Do you know any other spells?” Shelly inquired.

“No.”

“Well, that’s part of your problem,” Shelly chuckled.

“But I’m not even sure how I technically control fire,” I countered. “I woke up one day and I could. Time and practice have made the ability stronger and more dynamic, but I don’t understand it any better.”

“Mira,” Cynnia slowly said, backing away from the edge of the water and up the bank toward Danaus. “At the risk of my own life, I was wondering if you considered that maybe, by some slight chance, you weren’t born human.”

“I was human,” I snapped, taking a step toward her.

“But as you said, humans can’t control fire like you do.”

With a wave of my hand, the last of the fireballs were extinguished, plunging the woods into total darkness. “And if I wasn’t human, what do you think I was?”