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“This is my home.” I slapped at him with my new power, like at Moira's. But Thorn doesn't rock back on his feet. He goes flying. “You marked me.” I slapped him again, and even though he was ready for it, he slammed into the wall. “Moira's gone. La Sorcière is GONE… and you're here, with my—”
“Len, no, chére.” She reached out, and I felt her honeyed magic oozing over me, looking for my weakness. Part of me knew I must be wrong. She was my best friend, and we love each other.
“Stop. Just fucking stop. I know what you’re doing, you stupid fucking bitch.” I followed the line of that syrupy sweetness back to her and draw it from her, siphoning off her power until she was on her hands and knees, begging me to stop.
“Elena.” Thorn's voice broke through the white noise in my head, too close to me. I pivot from Chas, and he's there, staring down at me like I'm some kind of monster. “Elena. Whatever you're thinking, you know it's the stones. You can control this.”
I raised a hand and let flames engulf it, turning it to watch it play between my fingers. “You're right, Thorn. I can control it.” I flicked my fingers, and the tiny blaze burned brighter and whiter than before. I waved my hand, and the flame vanished.
“What I can't do, is understand why I'm supposed to depend on you because we're partners.” I flicked my fingers, and the flame returned, now demonic blue, “Why the fuck you're in my apartment, getting friendly with my roommate, who has spent the last several days telling me you're shit.”
Thorn blinked at me, then glanced at Chas. “You're getting a bad read on this, sweetheart.”
I follow his gaze and find her slowly edging toward the kitchen. “Don’t fucking try me, Chastity Angel Redcliff, I will blow your fucking head off.”
She stopped short and raised her hands up in surrender. “I know. Let's stay chilly, chére.”
“Don't call me chére,” I growled, letting demon flame envelop my arm. “You're no better than the wolves. No better than Kye. Everyone I trusted, everyone I cared about, lies!” But I know that's not true. Not Chas. I try to call the flame back, but I'm sinking into thick, tarry emptiness.
“Chas. Holy fuck. Help me,” I wailed.
Everything is clear for a split second, and I start to pull myself free from the void swallowing my mind. But the power surged, and I fall back in.
“Someone has control of her,” Thorn remarked. I think I hear panic in his voice.
Who the fuck cares. Not me.
“You’re the demon, help her, she’s fighting back and losing.” Desperation colored her voice. “If you don’t help her get control, she’s gonna burn the goddamned block down.”
My neighbors must all be home by this time. If I could get free of the absolute blackness sucking me down and spinning me end over end like a riptide, I'd smell Mrs. Bonèt's cooking. Maybe I could hear little Patrick Leland practicing piano on his electric keyboard.
“That's it, sweetheart. Keep thinking. Who else is here for you to protect?” Thorn comes through in the back of my mind, his voice tinny and small against the ocean roar of the power that rides my body.
“Catrina Pierce.”
“Who else?”
“Bonnie Hyde,” Chas adds from behind our marble island. “Bernie White.”
“Bernie White,“ I repeated after her.
“Princess Millie,” she said.
Princess Millie was only six weeks old and perfect. I reached for my power and focused on finding every ounce of demonic force in me. The more I find, the harder I must focus until every last bit is contained in a sphere I envisioned.
The power pushed back, but that's when I felt it, a little tadpole tail of something that isn't mine. It's not the stones, either. I've taken them in. They are supposed to be mine, too. “Thorn, someone's in my head.”
I think of Moira, then the sphere explodes, and with it, the last fraying shreds of my control. There’s a sharp, driving pain at the back of my skull. The world spun, tilted, and went black.
27
I'm floating in an undefined mist, and it's immediately clear that I'm dreaming. A familiar face emerged from the wispy swirls. And then my jaw ached.
“You hit me,” I said.
Dream Thorn smiled at me with a gentleness that caught me off-guard. “It seemed the better solution than to let you cook your best friend alive.”
Memories rush back to me. Finding them together, my rage.
