I clenched my hands, battling the urge to do what Jackson had not, and instead wrapped both vampires in flame, containing them without burning. As I became flesh again, Jackson landed two final blows, shattering the mouth of one vampire and breaking the nose of the other. They both dropped like stones to the floor and didn’t move.

Nor did Jackson. He simply stood there, sucking in air, his entire body taut with tension and flames licking up his arms.

And while he was so very close to losing control and burning the house down around us, the fact that he hadn’t was a good sign.

“Imagine the fire is water and that you are a pump with a very empty inner well to fill.” Pain from both exertion and the wound on my forearm stabbed through me as I spoke. I glanced down. The heat of my flames had sealed the wound enough that blood was oozing out rather than pulsing, but it still hurt like blazes. I took a deep breath that did little to ease the deeper ache in my head, and continued. “Imagine your fire flowing like water into the well rather than letting it play across your body, then place a cap on it.”

As directions went, they were overly simplified, but sometimes such imagery was the only way to teach control, especially when dealing with those very new to their fire—which Jackson was, despite his being a fire fae.

He didn’t reply, didn’t even look at me, but after several moments, the flames retreated, until all that remained was the glow of heat across his fingertips.

He took another deep breath; then his gaze stabbed to mine, the green depths icy and furious. “Where the fuck are the werewolves?”

“I don’t know.” I moved past him and squatted beside Shona. Even though there wasn’t a chance in hell of her being alive given the state of her throat, I still felt her wrist for a pulse. Sometimes hope was rewarded against the greatest of odds, but this wasn’t one of those times. There was no life left in her, and her skin was already losing its heat.

I closed my eyes and did my best to stifle the wash of anger and guilt. I’d made my choices, chosen my path, and there was no way I could go back on that now.

And if I was honest, I’d probably make the very same decision if I did have the chance of doing it all again. If our plan had worked, if either the sindicati or the werewolves had taken care of Rinaldo as he’d retrieved the suitcase notes from our office, then not only would Shona, the guard, and even Rory have been that little bit safer, but one fewer player would have been after the missing research notes.