I throw my head back and, with a shout, thrust my arms out in front of me. The movement is entirely instinctive. I’m not thinking clearly.
But raw power—the likes of which I’ve never experienced before—explodes out of me. Every witch and warlock is tossed backwards, the floor beneath my feet begins to tremble, and the walls crackle and then begin to shatter. A piece of debris rains down from the ceiling, then another one, then another.
No! Stop! You have to stop this!I mentally scream at myself, knowing that if I don’t get a grip on whatever this is, I could kill everyone here.
I could kill Ansel.
I fall to my knees as wave after wave of unencumbered power radiates from me. Glass shatters. People begin to scream. More and more debris joins the others around me.
“Isabella, stop this!”
That voice… Do I recognize it? I think I do, but I can’t associate a name with it.
“You need to neutralize the threat!” This is someone else.
“Don’t fucking touch her!” Ansel. That’s Ansel’s voice.
He’s okay. I didn’t hurt him.
A tiny whimper escapes me as I curl in on myself like old, brittle paper. Every one of my veins is on fire. This is ten times worse than when Michelle electrocuted me.
Am I dying?
Or did I already die?
Is this hell?
More dust. More debris. More glass. More screams.
And still, the fountain inside of me is unending.
One of the plants beside me begins to shrivel and turn brown. And I swear that I feel more energized than I did before.
Stop this, Izzy! Stop this! Stop this!
No matter how loud I scream at myself, the power doesn’t end. It’s relentless. Consuming. Unyielding. Terrifying.
Then I feel someone beside me, her red hair whipping around her angelic face, and she whispers, “Sleep.”
I do.
Thirteen
CHRISTIAN’S WOLF
Hungry.
Must find food.
Follow trail of blood.
Rabbit.
Will have to suffice.
Need more food.
Need to be strong enough to find mate.
