She frowned. “How?”

“Calling on them is as serious as anything can be. You should be anxious, and you should be wary of just what kind of destructive power they have. If you weren’t, I’d be concerned and disappointed in you.”

“I’m not just wary of the flames, Knox. I’m wary of how much my demon likes them. It would have happily annihilated the world because it was pissed off that I’d been hurt. In my opinion, this kind of power shouldn’t be placed in the hands of an entity that vengeful.” Her demon snarled at that assessment.

“I’m not teaching your demon how to control the ability to call them. I’m teaching you how to do it. Then, if the situation merits it, you can call on them well before your demon even thinks to interfere.”

Harper wasn’t warming to the idea at all, but if she wanted to be sure that she wouldn’t accidentally call them, she needed to listen to him. She planted her feet. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

He dropped his hand and stepped back; the carpet of dead leaves crinkled beneath his shoes. “First, I want you to just listen. As you know, my kind can call on the flames of hell because we are the flames. They birthed us, they sustain us, and they protect us. They come to me as easily as the protective power inside your belly comes to you.”

“Even when you were a kid?”

“Even then, just like your power to cause pain was something that tried to protect you as a child.”

Harper’s chest ached at the idea of a little boy being expected to handle that level of power. No adult should be expected to handle it, let alone a child.

“Your wings were, in a sense, birthed by the flames,” Knox continued. “As such, they’re connected to the flames. The power is there. Ready. Waiting. But you emotionally and mentally reject it out of fear of what your demon might do with it.”

Which, Harper thought, made her sensible. “It was scary to be a backseat passenger while the psycho went… well, psycho. Maybe it wasn’t scary to you because you still don’t have the sense to fear my mighty wrath.” She decided to ignore the gleam of amusement in his eyes. “But it was shitifying for me.”

“You think I can’t relate to that? My demon has lost control more than once, and I was forced to be nothing but a spectator while it wiped out everything in its path. Neither of us can be sure that your demon won’t do the same thing again. But if it can trust that you don’t need it to protect or defend you, it shouldn’t push you too hard for dominance in a critical situation. And one way to be sure you’re fully protected is by conjuring the flames of hell.”

She poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “I don’t think this will be as effortless for me as it is for you.”

“Maybe not, but we’ll see. Call your wings.”

Heat briefly blazed down her back as her wings snapped out. She flexed her back muscles, making them flap a few times. They were heavy, despite being gossamer.

Knox stroked one wing as he said, “They are your connection to the flames. Think of them as the bridge between you and this power that you wouldn’t otherwise have access to. As long as the bridge is there, the flames can come to you. Without it, they can’t reach you.”

“All right.”

He began to slowly pace in front of her as he spoke. “Your wings are out. The bridge is there – what happens next hinges on you. The night you called the flames, I tried to calm them. I couldn’t, because they weren’t answering to me right then. They weren’t there for me, they were there for you. They raged out of control, yes, but only because your emotions were out of control.”

“You’re saying I can control them?”

“Control them? No. You can guide them, ask things of them, even try to direct them. But you can never control them, just like you can never control your demon. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Bummer.”

His mouth twitched. “But if you stay focused, if you channel your emotions into one direction, the flames will do the same.” He slanted his head, adding, “Mostly.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean ‘mostly’?”

“Like I said, they can’t be controlled. I wouldn’t go as far as to say they have their own mind. They don’t. But they have their own will.”

Having been surrounded by their strength and power, Harper could agree with that.

“The point I’m making is that if you give them a target, they will focus on it. If your anger hadn’t been so out of control and had instead been focused on Roan, the flames might have swallowed him whole rather than surround the entire trailer and then, traveling outwards, consume whatever they touched.”

She narrowed her eyes as the comment triggered the memory of Knox standing there as red, gold, and black flames spouted from the ground to devour two dark practitioners in an alley. No other destruction, no sticking around to burn anything else – the flames had died down as quickly as they’d come. Huh.

“And now we practice.” Knox threw an old photograph of Crow onto the ground. “There he is, Harper. There’s the bastard that targeted me again and again. He wanted me dead, and he used you to try to get to me – he even went as far as to try to cut out your womb so you could never carry my child. Killing him was almost a kindness, really, considering the pain he deserved to feel.”

She licked her lips. “You want me to call the flames to devour the photograph?”

“Unless you’d rather I’d brought a living person. Your ex would be my preference.”

“The dolphin would be mine.” Harper rolled back her shoulders. “Talk me through what I need to do.”

“Tap into the link you have to your wings – the link that allows you to call them to you. It may feel physical, but it’s psychic in nature. Find it.”

Harper didn’t need to search for it. The link was as much a part of her as the wings themselves. “Got it.”

“Good, now you’re stood on that bridge we were talking about. Crow is your target. Stare at that photograph and think about him. Think of everything he caused, every bit of pain the people around you suffered. Think of what he did to you and what he would have done to me.”

She did, feeling fury build inside her like a firestorm. “The link… it’s getting hot. Really hot.”

“I want you to direct every bit of the rage in you at that picture. Feel the rage, and focus on the cause of the rage… and call the power that’s on the other side of the bridge.”

She glared down at the photo, trying to project her anger onto it. “The link’s super, super hot right now.”

“Don’t break away from it,” he said, hearing the wariness in her tone. “The heat can’t hurt you. You know that. Focus on the photo, Harper. Focus on Crow.”

She sensed the power on the other side of the bridge raring to be released; she called to it. The air buzzed and the ground trembled, making the dead leaves at their feet flutter. It scared her enough that her resolve faltered for a minute.

“They won’t hurt you, Harper. They can’t. Direct them at Crow. He slapped you, he sliced you open, he tried to remove your womb and —”

Harper winced as an almost unbearable power shot up the “bridge” and flames erupted out of the ground with a roar. She stepped away from the blistering heat, even as she marveled at what she’d done. They consumed the photograph easily, but they didn’t die down.

Knox was instantly at her side. “Okay, Harper, I want you to shove aside the rage. Crow is gone now. Dead. He can’t hurt you ever again, and he can’t hurt me. It’s over.” He whispered into her ear. “All over. That’s it, good girl. The flames did what you needed them to do; now let them go.”

The flames slowly eased, and the buzz in the air died away as the power returned to where it came from. The photograph was gone. All that remained were ashes that were dotted with a red residue. Harper gaped at him. “I did it. I actually fucking did it.”

“Of course you did it.”

She smiled. “Can I do it again?”