I hunched over the campfire, alone. It was freezing, and I had nowhere to go.

Boomer and Jericko gathered around a bigger campfire to stay away from me. While Ares had shouted at me without discretion, his men had learned about my death touch.

Caen, the silent Dragonian, wasn’t in sight this time.

The Dragonian warriors looked at me as if I were a plague. And not just that. Whenever they glanced in my direction, they had that kind of murderous light in their eyes and their hands voluntarily went to the hilt of their swords.

“If Ares hadn’t stopped us and we’d gotten into the lake with her that day,” Jericko said, “we’d all be cracked pots now.”

“I thought she was wild when she stripped bare,” Boomer said. “Never thought the wench was planning our horrific death.” 

I tried not to hear them and stayed as far away from them as possible. If the guardians weren’t around, the bunch would come for my blood.

Einarr was gone, too. Hopefully he’d gone hunting. I wondered if they’d let me have dinner tonight.

Bored and worried, I tried to focus on my next steps.

With so many people having learned about my touch—which was very unfortunate—my skin was no longer my weapon. For the first time, I felt defenseless.

I thought of the dark fire slithering on my skin when I became extremely upset, but I had no idea how to conjure it up and turn it into my new weapon. Merlin had said that I would need to own my heritage, embrace my dark side, and claim my monster if I wanted to become a full-fledged First Witch. Only then could my Angel power be at my disposal.

Maybe I should let the monster out? People already thought I was one. Ares had called me worse. Two monsters together would be stronger than one.

I closed my eyes and withdrew into myself.

I skated on the ice lake toward the spot where I usually checked on my monster.

Shapeless darkness swirled under the ice.

I stared down through the layers of ice, and the darkness transformed into a beast with my face and stared right back at me. I yelped.

I used to call the beast ‘he’ to distance myself from it, and now it proved to be a she.

She’d heard my pulses, my heartbeats, and my call.

She’d come to meet me, with the thick ice between us.

She didn’t pound on the ice and scream for me to let her out this time. She just looked at me, her crimson eyes half-mad.

I jerked my face away from her, away from my distorted self. 

Just like Ares couldn’t stand looking at me, I couldn’t look her in the eyes.

I fled, my mind returning to my surroundings.

Vast wings flapped overhead and blocked the weak sunlight above. I was grateful and relieved that they weren’t the Angels’ wings.

Mettalum and Lucas had returned from their scout.

As soon as he landed, Lucas strolled toward me with a smile.

Surrounding by hostility, that sunny smile meant summer to me. I waved and beamed back, welcoming him to join me.

Boomer jogged toward Lucas, and my heart sank. The Dragonian cut in in front of Lucas halfway. “I wouldn’t go near her if I were you, shifter.”

My clothing covered every inch of my skin, my gloves were tight on my hands, and my hood concealed most of my face. I wouldn’t harm Lucas.

“What’s your problem, Boomer?” Lucas growled. “I’m sick and tired of you bullying Freyja. This has to stop!”

Boomer removed himself from Lucas’ path. “Well, then, go ahead and touch her and die like the Angel in the alley. You might even prefer smoke coming out of your ass.”

That was how people twisted truth. Smoke never came out of the asses of those I touched with death. It came out of their eye sockets.

“What are you talking about?” Lucas said as he flicked a glance in my direction. He’d also seen the corpse of the Angel I’d killed. 

“Go ask your sweetheart over there,” Boomed said. “Ares almost ran his blade through her for what she intended for us.”

Lucas strode toward me but stopped a few feet. I dropped my gaze and stared at his boots. I’d planned his death at the lake, and he’d been nice to me all the time.

“Freyja,” he called, squatting in front of me.

“Huh?” I said. I couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since the Angels’ attack,” he said. “I hope you feel better now.”

“I do, thank you,” I said. 

“Freyja, you’re my friend,” he said. “I don’t blame you for anything. Even if your touch can cause death, you’ve been wearing gloves all the time to protect us,” he paused and added, “after you got to know us a bit more.”

I fought back grateful tears. I would not forget this kindness.

“The love-sick idiot is totally blind,” Jericko said with disgust from his campfire. He’d watched our exchange with eager anticipation, hoping Lucas would at least spit on me if not knifing me. 

I raised my head and looked Lucas straight in the eyes. “I was born with this curse. Everything I touch dies. And it isn’t just my hands. Every inch of my skin is lethal.”

“I saw the druid touch your hands,” he paused, “and one time Ares touched your face.”

“Only a few people are immune,” I said.

“Maybe I’m immune, too,” he said hopefully. “Test me.”

“No!” I said in horror. “Merlin gave me a list, and you aren’t on it. I’m sorry, Lucas. I didn’t mean to hurt you or lie to you.”

A hint of sadness crossed his face as he realized what my words meant, but he put an effort to expel the misery in his eyes. “If I were you,” he said, “I wouldn’t run around to tell people about the death touch either.”

I didn’t deserve his kindness.

“Is it curable?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”

“Do you want to get rid of it?”

I nodded.

“After we find the First Witch,” Lucas said, “we’ll return to the druid. He must have the cure.”

“He doesn’t,” I said. “But I might find someone else who can cure me.”

“Who?” he asked.

I glanced at the Dragonians. They were blatantly eavesdropping. The guardians also pricked their ears. Lucas followed my sight before returning his gaze to me.

“Whoever they are,” he said, “I’ll go with you to search for them.”

He didn’t know—none of Ares’ men knew—that I was heading toward the Fey realm where the Empress would either cure me or kill me.

“I don’t want to put you in danger,” I said.

He grinned. “I make love to danger.” Then he realized it was too blunt and flushed.

My face flamed.

“Are you sure you have that lethal touch?” he asked, trying to tune it down. “I just can’t picture you with death.”

Just then, a jaguar charged toward us from the mountain side.

The guardians stirred and rose.

Lucas shifted instantly. A large, black panther now stood between the jaguar and me, growling threateningly.

Caen, who had been missing early on, chased after the jaguar. I wasn’t sure if he’d been hunting the animal or driving it toward me by design.

I crouched, tossing my gloves away, and leapt toward the beast.

This was the first time I showed my hunting skills. Like Ares, I could jump high and far. He was genetically enhanced, but I had Angel blood.

I soared across the panther and landed on the jaguar, pressing my hand on its fur. The panther dashed toward us as the jaguar yowled in pain, prone to the ground in fours. I hopped off. The jaguar turned gray, and smoke emitted from its eye sockets.

“End its suffering,” I snarled at Caen who had just reached us.

He gave me a dark look and slashed the jaguar across the neck.

Boomer and Jericko had gathered around the animal, staring at the remaining smoke hovering above the jaguar.

I’d just demonstrated my killing skills. I could have done the same to the group. Jumping on them with one touch, and they would be done for. My show wasn’t for them but for Lucas. I didn’t want him to get this foolish idea that he could be immune and get himself killed.

Lucas shifted back and stared at me. There was no disgust in his eyes but awe and sorrow. He saw the barrier between us.

I trudged toward my campfire, leaving the group and the dead jaguar behind.

They debated if they could eat the animal since I’d touched it.

All this time, Ventus said, I thought you were a damsel-in-distress when you climbed onto my back like a frightening fawn. You deceived even the great Guardian of Wind, Witchling.

For your own good, I said, putting back my gloves.

Ventus snorted.

Fierce as fire, Ignis said, opening an eye to gaze at me.

Cold as ice, said Glacies.

Hard as metal, said Mettalum.

At least, the guardians thought I belonged.