Free Burn With Me by R. G. Alexander

Greg walked back over to the window, looking down suspiciously, every muscle in his body tense. Her aunt was the first to speak. “We did. I did. I felt him. Aziza, I heard everything.”
    Aziza released the breath she’d been holding, unsure if her aunt’s acknowledgment made it better or worse. Tension coiled inside her, her skin tingling with pinpricks of pain. Her hands. The fire. If they saw him , then maybe… Without another word she rushed into the guest room and saw the small jewelry box resting on top of the colorful patchwork quilt she’d slept beneath. Everything in Penn’s flat was so bright and cluttered, so lived in…so different from the muted tones of her family’s home. She studied the box almost as though it would move on its own. But it didn’t. It was waiting for her.
    I made it for you…
    She walked over to the edge of the bed, a fine tremor in her fingers as she opened the box to look inside. One small gold hoop studded with tiny, perfect emeralds. She lifted her hand absently to her right ear, recalling what he’d said. It wouldn’t protect her. How had he known about that?
    When Aziza was a baby, her mother hadn’t just had both her earlobes pierced, she’d had the top of Aziza’s right ear pierced as well and then put in a plain, thin hoop that she’d said was made of enameled iron.
    “Never take it off, my darling. Never make my mistake.” How many times had her mother made her swear? “It will protect you. It will make them weak. Make it impossible for them to use you.”
    Obviously not that impossible.
    She’d always chalked it up to another of her mother’s eccentricities. Another way to control her. As a teenager, Aziza had gotten a matching hoop on her left ear and a third piercing on each side to wear the kind of earrings she wanted. A new one every week, none of them made of the boring, nondescript metal. It was a strange, small rebellion, but it had felt like enough. When her mother died she’d almost taken the hoop out. Almost. But she couldn’t. Not when it had been so important to her.
    Aziza played with the iron hoop and winced. A small pinch of pain. Why? Because of Ram? Was he what her mother had been trying to protect her from? She could tell from Penn’s comments that was what she had been thinking. Now he’d given her another earring that he also claimed was for protection. Her low laugh held a tinge of mania. Of course it was an earring. How could it be anything else?
    She took out the delicate silver bar she’d been wearing since she arrived in England so she could replace it with the emeralds. Holding the hoop in her hand, she studied the gems. They were the same color as his eyes.
    Ram.
    The earring warmed in her palm and she inhaled sharply, tilting her head to slip the piercing through her ear and close the clasp. She didn’t know why she believed him. Why she wasn’t rocking in a corner. Maybe it was adrenaline, or desperation. She had to trust him for now, because she didn’t want to hurt Greg or Penn. Didn’t want to hurt anyone.
    Not even her mother, which was why she still couldn’t take the other earring out.  She might be insane, but she’d be a crazy, mumbling bag lady with the most well-defended ears on the planet.
    Her ear was tingling. A tickling sensation combined with a soft humming sound vibrating inside her head. It gave her the strangest sense of calm. The sense of peace might be an illusion, but it was comforting, and she needed that comfort now.
    She heard Penn and Greg talking in the other room and, needing to see both of them again, to make sure they were okay, she followed their voices.
    “He’s out there.”
    “That Ram thing?” Aziza cringed at the fear in Penn’s question.
    “No,” Greg assured her grimly. “Not him.”
    Aziza walked toward the window, curious. “Who is it?”
    But she knew. An instant before she saw him leaning against the building across from Penn’s flat, she sensed him. The same sensation she