Fighting the Flames (Firefighter Romance #1)(66)

“Mom, it can't happen. Jacqueline's fate is on a different path.” Toby strolled toward the bar, forcing his shoulders straight.

“You're just afraid.”

Toby glared. “Afraid?”

“Sure. You're thinking about Gabriella and how that didn't work out. You don't want to be attached again.” Mom sipped her beer but held his gaze. “I could have killed your father for interfering. He should have just left you two kids alone. Then maybe you wouldn't be so gun-shy about relationships.”

“He got his way in the end.” Toby grabbed his broom and stabbed the floor with it. His knuckles whitened and his teeth ground over his mother’s words. Why should he risk his heart again for a woman he couldn’t keep? Even if his mother was right, the truth didn’t change. Jacqueline had to die.

“Maybe.”

For a few minutes, nothing but the sound of the bar's television filled the space. No other patrons had found their way in yet, and the shadows from the trees outside offered the place a cozy feel. His mother grabbed Toby's arm as he swept the broom past her.

“I wish your son had lived. I would have been proud to see him.” Her eyes filled with unshed tears. “I never could look at your father the same after all that mess died down.”

“Mom.” Toby gathered his courage, not liking these intimate conversations. He gulped, but for once, he wanted to get to the bottom of something that had always bothered him. “Did my father kill my son?”

She eyed him, her expression blank.

“I think he meant to kill the baby. You know how your dad was about mixing wizard bloodlines. How many times did we hear him say that doing so caused an unthinkable balance in power? But I don't think he did it. I talked with Gabriella, you know. She told me the baby was stillborn.” Her tone softened. “I believed her.”

He sat next to his mother and sighed. “That spirit that came out of the Box of Souls, he says he looks like Trevor would have if he'd lived to be this age.”

Matilda turned away, silent again.

Toby resumed sweeping, careful to keep his thoughts from straying too far toward the lovely Jacqueline Huston.

Or his dead son.



****



“What are you doing?” Jacqueline screamed as she rolled to the side of her bed. The knife Gabe held sliced into the mattress instead of her.

“You should have died. I'm helping you.” Gabe tugged the knife free and turned to her. “Your kind should never have been born. It's an abomination!”

“I can't help that my parents conceived me, you freak.”

Gabe cracked his neck. “I don't mean that kind of birth. I mean your half-banshee nature.”

“I can't help that either.”

She screamed as he lunged at her again.

“Can't we just talk about this?” Jacqueline asked before ducking through the bedroom door. Trying not to fall, she ran down the stairs, heading for the front door. “Shit.”

Gabe materialized in front of her, a cynical small smile on his handsome face.

“You can't get away from me. I know how to track you. We're blood, Jacqueline.”

“Then why are you trying to kill me? I mean, family is supposed to be the one thing you can count on,” she said as she backed away.

“That's why I want to kill you. Look at it as the ultimate family gift.”

“Gift? How do you figure stabbing me is a gift?”

“Because then you'll be dead, and we can carry on with our respective job functions within the family tree.” Gabe tapped his foot. “Hasn't that wizard explained to you that you are too dangerous the way you are now? You are upsetting the balance. If you die, everything will be as it should be.”

“I don't want to die.” Her blood surged, bubbling up like repressed volcanic lava flow that sat in the core of her being for too long.

Gabe's eyes widened. “What do you think you're doing?” he asked. “You know you can't actually hurt me, right? I'm way too powerful.”

“You're pissing me off,” she spat. Energy pulsed beneath her skin, and she raised her hands.

Gabe trembled and stepped backward. Jacqueline thought she saw just a hint of fear in his eyes, and she knew instinctively that he was lying about his her inability to harm him. What else might he be lying about?

The knife rattled on the table next to the front door, and Gabe held up his hands. “Okay, look. I've put the knife down.”

Electricity sparked from her fingers. The rage rooted into her blood, and the energy tensed her jaw. Sweat beaded on her forehead and a lazy drop tickled her temple.


“Why are you scared?” She narrowed her eyes. “You're already dead. It's only living people I can harm. You said yourself that you are a more powerful being. Right?”

He nodded quickly, but his eyes told a different story as they sought an exit.

“Wrong.” She strode to him utilizing small slow steps. “I bet I can hurt you. Maybe even tear your pathetic spirit apart.”

She elevated her hands again, a part of her surprised at the crackle of energy that sparked from her fingers again.

“I've wanted to experiment with my powers. Thanks for helping me out.” The palms of her hands faced each other leaving a slight gap in between. She focused her thoughts on that space, smiling as the sparks connected. Jacqueline glanced at Gabe, watching her in fascination and horror by the twisted expression held on his face. Slowly, she drew her hands apart, imagining he was stretching.