Pyromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts 1)

She called out to catch the man’s attention, but he didn’t pause his swaying progress. Taking two unstable steps to the left, he lifted his arms to balance himself. His silhouette was a stark, black picture in the dying light of the day. A bottle in his hand caught the twilight, reflecting the amber glow of liquor.

The man ventured off the main road onto the footpath that led to the stone alignments. Vandalism wasn’t unknown in the historical site. Teenagers often sneaked in after dark to drink or perform silly witchcraft rituals, some of them smashing their empty bottles against the ancient stones and carving their initials into the rock.

Grabbing her backpack, she ran up the road. “Hey, you! The site is closed.”

He disappeared behind a cluster of trees. When she reached the path, she was just in time to see him jump over the gate that gave access to the site. A trench coat floated behind him, trailing over the mesh. His long hair was tied back with a leather string.

Her step faltered. She knocked her toe against a rock and lost her balance. Going down, she stopped her fall with her hands. Thorns and pebbles dug into her skin. With her blood rushing in her ears, she stayed on her burning hands and knees for a second while she gathered herself.

It wasn’t like the dream, but it was him. The longer she stared at the dark figure, the surer she felt.

Joss staggered through the stones toward the backend of the fenced site. What was he doing here? She got to her feet and followed him over the gate. In the descending darkness, she caught the shine of his coat before he moved behind the flat dolmen tombstones. When she got him back in sight, he was sitting on the ground with his back resting against a megalith.

Her flip-flops weren’t suitable footwear for the fields. Nettles and sharp polls of wild grass stung her feet, but she ignored the burn as she trot closer. Joss hadn’t noticed her. He took his phone from his pocket and checked the screen. The light illuminated his features. There was no longer any question about his identity. His face looked the same, but the lines framing his mouth ran deeper.

He darkened the screen and dropped the phone, carelessly discarding it on the ground. Bringing the bottle to his lips, he took a long drink. His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. He wiped his mouth with the back of the hand and leaned his head against the stone.

The danger he emitted was a strange mixture of fury and pain. It was palpable in the dark. It should’ve made her back away, but she wanted answers. She was desperate to understand. Why was she dreaming of him? Why had he come back? Why did her mind scream at her to run?

Instead of heeding that voice in her head, she inched forward. Her heart had always won over logic. It still beat for him, stronger than ever. Time hadn’t diminished his spell. The knowledge was devastating. No matter what, she’d always be chained to him. She’d always carry the heavy weight of falling in love too young and too irreversibly. Joss was more than a dream. He was the very thread with which she’d woven her soul. Cutting it would mean letting everything she was unravel.

A twig cracked under the thin sole of her flip-flop. Joss’s hand stilled with the bottle halfway to his mouth, his body coiled and tense. He jerked his face in her direction. Their eyes locked. A shiver ran over her, delicious and frightening. She felt fourteen again, like that day in the woods.

Too late for changing her mind and running away, she steeled her spine. Her words sounded like an accusation. “What are you doing here?”

He traced her movement with disturbing intensity until she stood in front of him.

Speaking to her in English instead of his native French, he said with a strong accent and slurring tongue, “Getting hammered.”

Only half of the alcohol was left in the bottle. She hoped for his sake it wasn’t hard liquor, although the fact that the bottle didn’t have a label indicated it was home-brewed, and that stuff was always the strongest. “What are you drinking?”

His deep timbre held a seductive tone. “Come closer and find out.” Tilting his head, he studied her with a challenge in his unfocussed eyes. “Or are you scared?”

Yes, she was, more than he’d ever know, as she should be. If she was clever, she’d run, but she couldn’t leave him here like this. He’d saved her once. This was the least she owed him.

“Where are you staying?” she asked. “Can I call someone to come get you?”

He chuckled as if she’d made a joke.

When he tipped back the bottle again, she grabbed his arm to stop him. He struck as fast as a snake, locking his fingers around her wrist. With a single tug, he yanked her onto his lap. She shrieked, trying to get up, but he restrained her with an arm around her waist.