Feed Her Fire – Holly Ryan

For too many years, I was a thing compressed. A fist clenched so tightly that the bones ground together. Seven words carved into stone, pressing down on me from every direction, collapsing my awareness to the dimensions of a rotting house, the boundaries of a single lot, the cage of a name I could not remember. Until I did. Now the cage is ash. Now the name is mine. And I am starving. The city spreads beneath me like a banquet. Every shadow is a doorway.

Every pocket of darkness an invitation. I could drink it all. Could pour myself into every dark space in this city and corrupt it until the hunger that has been eating me alive finally quiets. But I do not feed. Not yet. Not now. Because she is east. And the thread that connects us—thin, muffled, dampened by the cage similar to mine—pulses with her heartbeat.

Slow and stubborn, the rhythm of a woman who has decided she is not finished and will not be finished until she says so. I follow. The city blurs beneath me. I do not move through space the way the living do. I do not displace air, do not push against ground, do not negotiate with the physical world for passage. I simply am where the darkness is, and the darkness is everywhere, and so I flow east.

Past the thinning neighborhoods where houses give way to chain-link and concrete. Past the industrial belt where factories sleep in their own rust. Through rail yards where abandoned cars sit on dead tracks. I taste the city as I go. Every shadow I pass through feeds me something, but it is not enough. It is never enough. The Seal starved me for so long that the hunger has become structural, woven into whatever passes for my being.

I will be hungry until the universe collapses back into the dark from which it came. But I can be hungry later. I can feast later. Now there is only the thread. Only her heartbeat. Only east. The trail leads past a meatpacking plant, past a derelict grain elevator that stands against the predawn sky like a hollow tooth. Past rows of empty warehouses with broken windows.

Then…there. Set apart from the others by a hundred yards of cracked asphalt and dead weeds. A collection of hangars, nondescript and windowless.

Sexual assault (in a dream) Sexual assault (of a serial killer) Domestic violence (mentioned in backstory) Child abuse (mentioned in backstory) Coerced sexual acts Revenge-motivated sexual relationships Morally black and gray characters Novella-length stories in a series (this is book 4 of 5) Cliffhangers! OceanofPDF.com Play List (In No Particular Order) 1. “CLOSER” – NINE Inch Nails 2. “Hurt” – Nine Inch Nails 3. “Tear You Apart” – She Wants Revenge 4.

“Enjoy the Silence” – Depeche Mode 5. “Seven Devils” – Florence + The Machine 6. “Howl” – Florence + The Machine 7. “Rabbit Heart (Raise It Up)” – Florence + The Machine 8. “The Devil Within” – Digital Daggers 9. “Control” – Halsey 10. “Nightmare” – Halsey 11. “Gasoline” – Halsey 12. “Paint It Black” – The Rolling Stones 13. “Dead Inside” – Muse 14. “Pumped Up Kicks” – Foster the People 15. “Black No. 1” – Type O Negative 16. “Demons” – Sleigh Bells 17.

“Haunted” – Beyoncé 18. “Bury a Friend” – Billie Eilish 19. “You Should See Me in a Crown” – Billie Eilish 20. “Bad Guy” – Billie Eilish 21. “Skin” – Rihanna 22. “Criminal” – Fiona Apple 23. “Twisted” – MISSIO 24. “Look What You Made Me Do” – Taylor Swift 25. “Shitlist” – L7 OceanofPDF.com Chapter 1 Azhrael SHE IS GONE.

Gone. The word is insufficient. Gone implies departure, implies movement from one place to another, implies a destination that can be found and followed. This is not gone. This is severed. A limb torn from the body. A frequency suddenly flatlined. One moment she was here, her heartbeat drumming through our bond, her fear bright and electric and alive.

Then Red Hands ripped her away, and several minutes later, something slammed shut between Sera and me. A wall. A barrier with intent. I know the shape of that intent. I have lived inside it for over a hundred years. Someone has sealed her in, the same way I am. The understanding detonates inside me, and the house answers.

Pipes burst in the upstairs bathroom, water spraying against tile in a pressurized shriek.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: deb62accd5ccddd9
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 987,180 bytes (0.941 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 115
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 168.59 minutes
• Total Words: 33,719
• Total Characters: 188,301
• Average Words per Page: 293.21
• Average Characters per Page: 1637.4

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