Through the Fire (Daughter of Fire, #1)(6)

This is a mistake though. Clay is dangerous.

I also needed to know how he’d found me so easily—Dad and I had put a great effort into disappearing two years earlier and every time we’d moved since. This meeting was purely for self-preservation. At least that was what I told myself as I lied to Dad, asking if I could drive his old Ford F150 to work so I could grab a few supplies on the way home.

I’d gotten ready for work as normal, only forgoing my contacts, even though I had no intention of going. Instead, I’d gone straight to a payphone and called in sick before heading toward the address that Clay had pushed into my hand after our kiss. At each set of traffic lights, I reminded myself again of the fact that I was only going for reconnaissance.

It’s not a date. Remember that he wants to kill you—your kind.

I pulled the car up to the address on the card, and my heart stopped. A seemingly abandoned warehouse, dilapidated and collapsing in places, stood surrounded by broken fences and a fallen barbed-wire fence. I swallowed down the fear that rose and threatened to make me lose control. When I’d decided earlier that I would meet Clay, despite the risks, I hadn’t expected his chosen meeting place to be something straight out of a horror movie.

I recalled all of the neighboring places that I’d driven past to get there. They had all appeared relatively well-kept and were buzzing with activity. The mess in front of me looked like it had sat empty for at least five years. It didn’t escape my notice that it would be the perfect place to hide a body—not that there would be a body to hide if he killed me.

With great difficulty, I swallowed down my doubt. I’d made the decision to be there, and, for better or worse, I would follow it through. My fingers tingled with heat as I pushed open the large roller door, wincing as it squeaked and shuddered its way into motion. It wasn’t exactly the subtle entrance I’d been hoping for, and now there was no turning back. As if there ever really had been.

I’d barely slid the door shut, locking myself into a darkened corridor, when I saw a familiar figure through the dim light. For a moment, I stood motionless wondering if this would be the moment my curiosity finally did me in.

“Thank you for coming,” Clay said softly.

“I almost didn’t,” I admitted, and he nodded to show he understood. “Why are we here?”

The question must have confused him because he tipped his head to one side like a puppy.

“Couldn’t we have met somewhere a little more public?” Somewhere that has less of a serial-killer vibe to it?

“This is where I’m staying at the moment.”

“You live here?”

He smiled in response to my question. “Follow me.”

Taking a deep breath to cool my skin and steady my nerves, I followed him deeper into the abandoned warehouse. As he led me through the twisting hallways, I paid close attention to the layout. It was another ritual Dad had instilled in me: always have an escape plan. Especially in a situation like this, when cornered by a dangerous individual.

I really shouldn’t be here. What if we aren’t alone?

I glanced around quickly to ensure that no one else was following us. Certain—or at least as certain as I could be—that we were alone I trailed the path he laid. Despite the fear bubbling along within me, the simple beauty of the derelict building took me aback. The roof had been dismantled in places, allowing a patchwork of daylight to enter and bounce around the space. What should have appeared just as dilapidated and neglected as the outside, instead appeared airy because the holes in the ceiling allowed a natural light to pass through to softly infuse the area with the morning sun.

The inner workings were less claustrophobic than the entrance corridor. The once-white walls were now adorned with bright, overlapping, multicolored graffiti. Each tag was a claim for space by some faceless vandal, but somehow they blended together to grant the barren innards a warmth. It was almost as if each graffiti artist had imprinted the walls with a part of themselves, leaving behind a lingering presence. Overall, the colors combined to make it almost welcoming.

If only I was there under better circumstances.

Clay turned to me as we approached a heavy wooden door in the middle of the maze. He opened it, revealing a smaller hidden space. Despite its rundown state, the room was almost magical. The roof had almost completely collapsed onto the floor, which allowed the sun to pour in and bounce off the once-white walls. In one corner, a sleeping bag stretched out over a vacant patch of floor resting beside a pile of camping gear.

“Welcome to my house,” he said with a wry grin.

“Why am I here, Clay?” I had been asking myself the same question again and again, but voicing it to him helped to restore my confidence. I may have come at his request, but it was on my terms.

“I told you. I wanted to apologize for the way I reacted.”

“With who your family is, could you have had any other reaction?” I asked.

There was no point in trying to deny any of the accusation he’d hurled at me that day or convince him he was wrong in order to cover my own ass. We were both aware that I wasn’t human. I suspected he knew exactly what I was as well as I now did.

I was lost in the memory of that afternoon when I noticed Clay staring at me.

His brow furrowed slightly, and his mouth was pressed into a hard line. It was as though I was a great puzzle just waiting to be solved.