Erador hoped the forest would be the last place he’d have to look for Hawth. He kept on the forest path, scanning the trees. Dread filled him when he considered that Hawth left. He wouldn’t be able to confront him, to get revenge for what he’d done.

  His nose picked up the scent of sweet smoke. He quickened his pace. Hawth was where he thought he’d be. He smoked by the swing, unaware of Erador’s presence, with a relaxed face. While everyone else grieved, Hawth didn’t care.

  Erador wanted to make him pay but he resisted the urge to run up and smack him.

  When Hawth noticed him, he lowered his leef. “Came to blame me again?” He flicked the ash from the tip. “Are you just trying to blame someone because everyone else thinks it was you?”

  Erador took in a deep breath and stepped closer. “Did you tell them I left Breck outside and drained Pia’s blood?”

  Hawth took a drag of his leef and blew out smoke. “Who needs to say anything when they already think it?”

  Erador punched his face.

  Hawth stumbled back and wiped the blood from his lip. He laughed. “You’re just making this too easy.”

  Despite Shade’s protests, Erador swung again and hit him in the face. Hawth fell backwards on the ground, dropping his leef.

  “You think it’s funny? Two people are dead.” Erador pulled the brown bag from his pocket and opened it. “One of them was killed with magic like Emera.” He took out a crystal shard and threw it on Hawth’s chest. “That was in the infirmary by Pia's bed.”

  “This is your proof?” Hawth said, picking it up. He cursed and went to stand but Erador kicked him back down. “It could've been anyone, but you always blame me.”

  “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you didn’t tell me your father is a witch and Yuni is your sister.” Erador clenched the bag, the shards digging through the fabric into his skin. “Emera didn’t remember anything when we interrogated her. She was given low doses of vapor from you. The same was done to Pia.”

  “Keep telling yourself that while the real culprit is out there.”

  Erador shoved the bag in his pocket. “Pia knew who let the Raven out and you killed her to stop her from revealing it.”

  Hawth's lips parted. “She did?”

  “She told me she overheard someone.” Erador stared him down.

  Hawth threw the shard on the ground. “Typical.” He got up and brushed the dirt from his pants. “Have you considered anyone else? What about Aminria? She knew about Emera?”

  “She hasn’t been lying.”

  Erador’s eyes trailed to his red jacket, to the collar covering the height of his neck. The green flame burned in Erador’s mind. He pressed his tongue in his cheek as Hawth continued his excuses and blamed others.

  “Take off your jacket,” Erador said.

  Hawth opened his mouth. “What?”

  “If you want to clear one accusation, remove it.”

  Hawth hugged his middle. “No.”

  “Take it the fuck off!” Erador grabbed Hawth’s jacket and ripped on the buttons.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Hawth pried him off. “Fine! I’ll do it.”

  Erador moved away as Hawth aggressively undid each button and removed the jacket, leaving himself in a white undershirt. He laid it on the swing. Erador examined Hawth as he walked around him and took the jacket. He rummaged through pockets, finding only a leef and matches. Erador threw them down.

  “Where are you hiding it?” Erador grabbed Hawth and shook him. “Take off your shirt.”

  Hawth shoved him off. “I’m not hiding anything.”

  He leaned back from Erador’s swiping hand and fell over the swing. Erador dove over it and wrestled him down, yanking his shirt. Desperation to see the green flame kept him going, kept him pulling until the buttons popped off. Hawth’s bear chest without a necklace offered no answers. He had to be hiding it somewhere else.

  A fist hit Erador’s jaw and he recoiled. Hawth scrambled to his feet. Before he got away, Erador ripped on his boot and he slammed to the ground. He groaned as Erador undid the lace, and with a quick tug, he removed the boot. Nothing. He ignored Shade’s pleas to stop, that Hawth was right about everyone blaming him. They would always think it was him no matter what he did.

  As Erador reached for the next boot, he dodged a kick to the face. Hawth struggled to get up but Erador forced him down. He grabbed Hawth’s belt, undid the fastener, and pulled it off.

  Hawth wrestled the belt from Erador and whipped it at him. The metal smacked his temple and pain rattled through his skull. Groaning, Erador grabbed his throbbing head and stumbled sideways onto the ground. As the belt swung back again, he snatched it and ripped it from him.

  Erador got up and threw the belt down.

  Hawth backed away. “Get away from me.”

  “Then stop resisting.”

  Erador growled and charged forward. Hawth ran, tripping over rocks and branches. The trees blurred past Erador. He shut down Shade’s pleading until there was nothing, but his desire to see Hawth dead. Blood trickled from his bare foot, a taste of what Erador would do to him. He was like an animal being hunted, slowed down from a wound, and too easy to catch. Erador dove and tackled him.

  “Let me go.” Hawth choked out as he struggled.

  Erador blocked Hawth’s punch and slammed his arms down, stilling him. “Where is it? Where's the green flame?”

  “I don’t have one!”

  Erador tightened his grip to make Hawth winch. He wanted to dig his fingers into his throat, so he could never take another breath. So he wouldn't hurt them again.

  As he stared into Hawth’s angry eyes, he remembered as the light left Breck’s gaze when he died in his arms and when Pia was mutilated. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t take a life, even when Hawth deserved it. Shade didn’t have to remind him that his evidence wasn’t enough. What if Hawth had nothing to do with it? Erador would be as bad as the one’s who murdered them all.

  But Hawth was the monster. A vesper like Yuni.

  Erador got up. “Take off your pants.

  “What?” Hawth said.

  “You heard me and don’t forget the boot.”

  Hawth ripped it off and tossed it on the ground. He shut his eyes, lip trembling as he rose to his feet and undid the button of his pants. They dropped.

  Erador checked the boot and every inch of the pants. Hawth cupped his nether, his light cheeks tinged pink. He had nothing on him except the earrings of a sunflower and a black dangling fang.

  “Happy now?” Hawth said.

  Happy was far from what Erador would describe. The humiliation seeped through him from Hawth’s glare. He was wrong. Hawth didn’t have a flame. According to Degotoga, they had to carry it on them at all times. An apology was far from Erador’s tongue. He had no reason to, not to a murderer.

  “We’re done.” Erador threw the pants and stormed through the woods, leaving Hawth to gather his clothing.