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Fire roared inside the globe. Each of the flickering flames washed over another, combining and crashing together like waves in the ocean. The wooden handle was smooth under her touch despite how rugged it appeared. She turned the staff in her hands.
Using her magic was nearly as simple as thought at this point. There was little to her that was new though there were still a handful of things she might never be able to master due to the constraint of her abilities. The staff could only grant her power to so much.
Use. Me.
One more rotation of the globe. The smallest flick. With a light thump, the lost Book of Hopeless Souls landed on the bed next to her. The cover was thick, the leather crinkled with age, and the spine broken in several places, but it held together perfectly. Bound by the will of a god long forgotten.
Every turn of the page was a whisper of paper against paper. Her fingers slid over the text as if it was silk. When the information she sought was found, she read through it quickly before thumping her finger against it and slamming the cover closed. Another small flick and the book was gone.
Burke was settled between Ambrose’s legs now. He leaned against the chair, his head propped against her knee. Her hand absently stroked through his hair.
The violent desire to scream or force them apart became a ringing in her ears. Soon enough the taste of a brief bolt of lightning danced through her veins. It wasn’t anything like when she killed someone but it was good enough.
She stood and made her way to her sister once more. The scar on her chest was a slice of white that shimmered like the power that now gave her life. Eternal life, should her head remain on her shoulders. Gods, shehatedseeing that mark.
It was supposed to remind her of all the hard work she had done for this family. Instead, all it did was remind her of the way her sister’s blood had pooled on the floor. Howgoodit had felt when she killed her. Nothing disgusted her more than the way she’d enjoyed watching the light leave her sister’s eyes.
It was the staff.
It was the magic.
At least that is what she told herself. How she got through each day.
Because there could be no other explanation. Loving the kill, enjoying the way someone’s life could be smothered out as easily as blowing out a candle, that simply wasn’t her. Especially when it came to her family. These were the most important people in her life. Despite the petty squabbles, she would always fight for them. Always. She’d go to war for them. She did go to war for them.
Idalia cupped her sister’s cheek, turning her face up to hers more gently than before. “The voices…they might last a little while yet. Just hang in there. Eventually the voice of only one god will remain. The fighting will be over. Give it time.”
She swore something flickered within those brilliant sunset eyes. Whether it was Ambrose or some sign of the battle of wills happening inside of her she couldn’t say…
“There is,” Ambrose closed her eyes, “there is something dark in my mind. A creature or man,”or god, “that has no name.”
“Yes, no one knows the name of the god of the underworld. But I do.”
Her lashes lifted. “I’m scared.”
Idalia swept her thumb over the apple of Ambrose’s cheek. Her mouth shaped into a small smile. “As you should be.”
Ace
“Shelby! Shelby!” she shouted his name as she ran, dodging fleeing warlocks and witches, trying to point them toward Rehan as she went. Any Fae who ran toward her stopped or ran past her when they caught sight of her orange eyes and the scar on her neck. For once, her scar was protecting her.
Flames licked over several of the homes, heating the air and filling it with smoke that burned her lungs. She stopped to cough violently, trying to make out faces in the fog.
“Shelby?”
A dark figure took shape amongst the drifting clouds of gray.
Pulling at Rehan’s cloak, she tried to cover her mouth and nose with material to appease the way her throat was beginning to feel raw. Water was collecting along her eyelids as the smoke and fire burned around her, stinging her with its mighty wrath.
Ace took a step forward. “Shelby?” She gagged out a cough.
It took one step for the man’s image to be made clear. One second he was nothing but a dark outline among the soot and ash, the next she could clearly see his casual attire did little to diminish the way power rippled off of him.
This was not a man to be messed with. Not now. Maybe not ever.
King Osiris’s eyes were wild, marks of ash and blood smeared over his high cheekbones, pointed nose, hands, and clothes. His tongue ran across his blood stained teeth before he smiled prettily at Ace.
“Thank you for leading me here.”
