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“Hang on,” I tell him, but he paws at the door again, nails scraping against it. “Fine, you win,” I say, not remembering if he actually went potty on the walk. He bolts outside as soon as he can fit through the open door and runs to the very back of the yard. It’s chilly again tonight, and the wind blows, rattling the trees that line one side of my yard.

The creeped-out feeling comes back tenfold, and I desperately want to get inside—but not without my dog.

“Hunter!” I call, looking out in the dark. Usually, he’s very obedient and comes running as soon as I call him. “Hunter!” I call again, patting my leg. I didn’t turn the back lights on yet, and I think I can make out his dark outline near the garage. “Hunter!”

I narrow my eyes, trying to see if the gate is closed. We came in that way…fuck! I don’t remember closing it. My heart speeds up, and I hurry down the patio steps. Dew soaks the bottom of my pants as I walk barefoot through the yard. I call Hunter again, finding him sitting by the open gate on the other side of the garage. “What are you doing?” I ask him, watching him stare into the darkness. Reaching down, I run my fingers over his smooth fur and feel brave enough to close my eyes and let my shields drop. There’s always part of me that’s scared to do this, terrified of what I’ll see when I open my eyes again.

“Ryan?” I ask, trying to read the energy around us. It’s manic and dark. I don’t like it. Hunter growls. He doesn’t like it either. I close the gate, take a hold of Hunter’s collar, and give him a gentle tug. He stands and turns, following me to the house.

I get back onto the patio when Hunter stops. Growling, he takes off back into the yard. It takes my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dark again, but once they do, I see him.

A tall, hooded figure, with a long, pointed beak sticking out into the darkness. My heart skips a beat in fear, and for a moment, I’m paralyzed with fear. Realizing what danger I’m in, Hunter bounds over and stands in front of me, barking and snarling at the bird-demon.

I stand there, stunned for a second as I realize I have nothing to defend myself with. Hunter growls again, showing his teeth and looking menacing. The bird-demon inches closer, clawed hands raised and pointing at me.

Hunter turns, eyes meeting mine for a fleeting second before he lunges forward, strong jaws clamping around the bird-demon’s arm, throwing it off balance. The bird-demon jerks back, and Hunter shakes his head, teeth sinking into the thing’s arm.

I might not have a weapon, but I’m far from defenseless. Eyes wide, I hold out my right hand, feeling energy gathering around my fingers. I close my eyes, feeling the power rush through me, and snap my fingers, sparking the fire to erupt around my hand. I stare down the bird-demon, anger coursing through me, causing the fire to grow brighter.

Hunter backs up, bringing the demon closer to me, and somehow, I know what he wants me to do: burn this motherfucker down. I raise my left hand, feeling the same energy pulse through me and rush forward before I have time to hesitate. Hunter gives the bird-demon a final tug and lets go as soon as I press the fire into the things chest. Red hot flames travel down its brown robe, and the bird-demon stumbles back, madly slapping itself in an attempt to put the fire out.

Don’t be afraid of the fire, Anora. Aunt Estelle’s voice echoes in my head, and suddenly I remember standing in the backyard of her Thorne Hill home. It’s the middle of the night and a fire pit is before us. Fear leads to mistakes, and we don’t have room for mistakes when you’re holding fire in your hands.

Remembering what she taught me that night, I thrust out my hands, magically fueling the flames. “Ignis!” I yell, and the fire swallows the bird-demon whole. Smoke pours out of the bird-demon’s mouth and eyes. It lets out a final high-pitched shriek and bursts into flames, burning bright in the night before collapsing to the ground in a smoldering pile of ash and blood.

I lower my hands and clench my palms, trying to put out the flames on the ground, but only the ones around my fingers go out. Shit. In the back of my mind, I know the dry, slightly overgrown grass will catch on fire. My heart is still racing and adrenaline surges through me. I turn to get the hose but am face to face with someone else.

“What the fucking fuck?” Harrison stands completely frozen, blue eyes wide in terror as firelight flickers on his face. He parked in the driveway behind my garage and was coming in through the backdoor, like he tends to do.


Tags: Emily Goodwin Grim Gate Paranormal