the brightness, before turning on my heel.
And come face to face with a man who isn’t Edwin.
I falter. He's taller than me, broader and his eyes glint beneath curls. This witch could tackle me to the ground, but the hit from his strong aura is enough to stop me running.
“Were you actually going to kill us?” he asks, harsh voice filled with disgust.
34
MATT
“No.” I swallow hard.
He flicks his fingers at the witchlight between my palms. “Then what’s the fire for?”
“Not fire. Witchlight. I’m leaving,” I stammer.
“No, you're fucking not,” he growls and clamps a hand on my shoulder. I wince as he squeezes. “Inside.”
“What?” I'm torn between running from him and fighting back. If this guy thinks I almost set fire to a house with him inside, things won't end well.
“Inside. Light the fire.”
I blink as if I misheard. “What?” I repeat.
He grips my shoulder harder and manoeuvres me to the door. With his other hand, he yanks down the handle and nudges the door open with his shoulder. The house's interior is as derelict as the outside; wallpaper torn from the walls and graffiti sprayed around. Filth covers the kitchen surfaces, and someone has ripped the cooker from the wall. A door opposite the one we walked through is closed.
“The other witch is waiting for your fire. Light it.”
“But there are people in the house,” I stammer.
“Witches who can defend themselves,” he snarls. “Then, I decide what to do with you, Matteo Kohler.”
My pulse hikes. He knows me? Shit, what if he's Confederacy?
“They won't be able to leave the house,” I say. “Edwin will stop them.”
“I'll deal with him.” He scoffs. “And don't look at me like that; I could take on the pair of you at once if I wanted to.”
And I believe him. This witch emanates power similar to those I've come across on the Blackwood estate. Weaker than Anastasia and Nikolai’s, but stronger than mine.
Whatever happens this evening, at least one person will die.
The guy rests his large frame against the door we walked through and crosses his arms, the muscles in his forearms bulging. “Show me the Blackwood spell they want you to use.”
I shake my head. “If I do, the spell might get out of control again.”
“Like when you set fire to the academy? Surely the Blackwoods are teaching you to control the creature you can manifest.”
“I didn't choose to be with the family,” I protest. “I've fought their attempts to strengthen Blackwood energy inside me.” I rub my palms together to extinguish the light and we stand cramped together. “I can’t do this. I need to get away from here.”
The guy cocks his head. “Conjure fire.”
When I hesitate, my head splits as if he cracked me over the head with the leg of a nearby broken chair. I stagger. “Fuck.”
The witch who just assaulted me with mental pain glares. “I can do worse than that. Light the fucking fire, before your mate wonders what's happening. He thinks you're going to run, so he won’t wait long. I don’t want him looking for you.”
“And you’ll put the fire out?” I whisper.
“Cast the fucking spell.”
“No.” Another psychic blow to the head darkens my surroundings for a moment. This guy could kill me and Edwin. If I light the fire between me and him, I could run.
The man shakes his head and scoffs. “Sure, you can.”
He's reading my mind.
Even though months have passed since I cast the spell that landed me in Ravenhold, the words are indelibly inked in my mind. I'm forced to practice this every day as the Blackwoods attempt to bring back whatever the hell I unleashed that day. I've learned to hold back, aware that the fury at seeing Andrei and Amelia fed the spell and creature that day at the academy.
But I can control fire in a way few can. I’ve always had a strong affinity to the element and can bend the flames to my will. Once, fire was my favourite element—now it's responsible for all the shit in my life.
Drawing in a deep breath, I close my eyes and whisper the incantation to myself. The familiar heat builds in my arms, running beneath my skin until fire ignites. In class, flames might flicker on my fingertips, but this spell surrounds my hands and wrists as the fire strives to grow.
If I ever did this in a public, human place, I'd give myself away as easily as a shifter changing form. No human could play with fire the way I