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She stopped breathing. She lifted her hands as if that could stop him.
Lupien dragged his chin through Erwan’s hair. “Shall we restage the spectacle that Joss’s father so beautifully pulled off…” he glanced around, “…right here? Her brains were here.” He smoothed a hand over the wall. “The bitch was there.” He motioned to Clelia. “Exactly where you’re standing.” Closing his eyes, he rolled back his head. A visible tremor ran over his body. “Just the thought turns me on. What a piece of art.”
“You’re sick,” Clelia spat at him.
“The breeding ground of evil.” Lupien licked his lips. “I think I may stay here for a while after my job is done, take a little holiday and burn a few things.” He shivered with unconcealed pleasure.
Just like that, the sick show ended. Lupien cocked the gun and pressed the barrel so hard against Erwan’s temple it dented his flesh. “I won’t do it fast. I’ll scale him like a fish, cutting his skin off piece by piece, and then I’ll gut him. That would be an appropriate way for a fisherman to die, wouldn’t it? Roasting him will go too fast.”
Pain, pity, and fear made way for disgust and anger. The feelings boiled up inside her. Her pulse carried them through her veins. There was nothing she could do to prevent them from bleeding into her heart.
A bubble of fury popped in her chest, releasing its poison. In answer, a ball of fire sprouted at Lupien’s feet.
Panic hit as heat scorched the tips of her fingers and raced through her organs. It was incredible, like nothing she’d felt. Both right and wrong. It exploded in her mind. A feeling of invincible strength branched through her body, carried to every part by the poison in her blood.
Her senses were heightened. Everything suddenly seemed clear. One look at Erwan revealed his regret. Lupien’s dark eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
In the wake of Erwan’s reaction, shame set in. Ice encased her soul. The fire died.
Lupien placed the barrel over Erwan’s eyeball. “They say a bullet can shoot a clear hole through the socket without killing instantly.”
Another ball of fire exploded on Lupien’s right. It burned for two seconds before it vanished.
Lupien pressed the gun against Erwan’s stomach. “Of course it would be a lot more fun to shoot him in the gut, to watch him suffer while it takes him hours to die. No, wait. What am I saying? I decided on scaling, right? So many options, so little time.”
Bigger flames leapt off the floor on her left. She felt the power, knew she could spur them on by mere desire, let them lick and consume the man who threatened her grandfather. She could control their direction with as little as a change of thought. The urge to give in was overwhelming. It would be satisfying, no doubt.
Alarm bells rang in her mind. She was on the verge of sacrificing herself to frenzy. To chaos. Instinctively, she knew she could enter that state of mind right now that would allow her to burn anything to ashes. With all of her remaining conscious logic, she held onto the shreds that kept her human mind in control.
Lupien grinned. He enjoyed watching her wrestle, fire and willpower at war. As the need to protect Erwan grew, so did her power. She shook with it. She could not look away from Lupien. It was like a shadow that fell over the sun, inch by inch working itself into a full eclipse. She dug her nails into her palms as she tried to hold on to reason, to expel the fierce need for hate. The effort made her breath come in gulps. She sweated and shivered while Lupien laughed.
Invisible flames surrounded her. She felt them in her mind. It was both terrifying and liberating. She needed to look away from Lupien and pin her attention on something else. Tearing her gaze away, she fixed it on the far end of the corridor. A fire erupted, flames licking to the ceiling.
“That’s it, baby girl,” Lupien crooned. “Burn for daddy, just a little more.”
“Clelia, no!”
Erwan’s voice drifted to her, but it was distressed, and instead of calming her, it added fuel to her fire, the need to save him becoming an uncontrollable rage. She watched helplessly, her logic dreading and something primitive rejoicing as she obeyed Lupien’s command by pulling the flames higher. They burned like lovers, limbs entangling and backs arching off the ceiling. The perfume of burning wood infused the air.
“Clelia, don’t,” a voice said from downstairs. It was measured, unemotional, and controlled.
It had the desired effect. Her reason gained ground as her fury calmed. The flames retracted.
She knew that voice. It was distinct. She would recognize it anywhere. “Cain,” she said, even before she’d turned to face him.
He stood just inside the front door, leaning on his cane. “That’s exactly what he wants,” he said, crossing the entrance.
