The clamor of slamming doors gets louder and closer, as does the yelling.
Where’s the case? Where is the gods-be-damned pen case?!I tear around the room, wildly searching for the stupid thing, cursing myself for bringing it.
Cursing myself for not leavingwell enough alone, like I was told to.
A splash comes from the tub. Lydia is fully submerged when I look. Her wet head rises from the suds, and I realize she’s taken the torn bits of paper in there with her. She must be holding them under the bubbles.
I might admire her ingenuity if not for the fact that my skin feels too damn tight and hot.
The racket approaches the other side of the door. Someone is yelling, “—saw her come in here! Where is she, girl?”
Kiera’s pleading pierces my ears through solid wood. “Sister,please,I assure you—”
The pen case is lying open underneath the tub, near one of the claw feet. I scoop it up, swearing, and jam it next to the pen right before the door slams open.
Sister Ailen stands framed in the doorway, her face nearly the same deep red as her robes.
She’s clutching her cane in one hand. The other is wrapped around Kiera’s upper arm. “I thought she wasn’t here, eh?” Shehalf-drags, half-shoves the terrified handmaiden into the room. “Want to revise your story, you lying little weasel?”
Kiera yelps and cowers. Tears streak her face.
Oh, you unholy cunt.Something inside of me knows I can get to Ailen in two strides, grab the girl, knock the hag on her ass, and pound her skull into mush with my fists or feet. I know this in my soul. In my very essence.
In the hollows of my bones.
“It’snother fault,” I snap, straining to keep my back pressed against the cupboard doors. Afraid I reallywillkill her if I entertain the notion further. Then Deirdre will fucking slaughter me, and if she doesn’t, Elodie certainly will. “She had nothing to do with it. I snuck in on my own. She didn’t even know I was here.”
Eyes narrowed and mouth twisted, the incensed sister shoves Kiera to the floor before limping across the room in deceptively swift strides.
Lydia has her knees up and her arms wrapped low around them when Ailen passes. Head down, she’s rocking back and forth, sending ripples through the foamy water.
Ailen’s on top of me a moment later, menacing in her rage. “Youdon’t belong in here.”
“Don’t touch me!” My words are barely out before I’m yanked from the cabinet with a growl. Like the night I first saw Lydia, Ailen’s strength is astonishing.
The next things that happen do so with ruthless speed.
Pain explodes at the base of my skull. My teeth sink through my tongue, my vision swimming. Agony splits my mouth like lightning, blending with the ringing in my ears.
Fuck!Choking out a stunned wail, I stumble to a halt. Blood gurgles in my throat and dribbles down my chin and neck. Something hot and sticky is oozing through my hair at the back of my head.
But I’m a demun who’s no longer starving. The damage doesn’t have a chance to disable me before my skull and tongue and pride are re-knitting themselves.
The pain is slower to leach into a dull throb, but rage keeps me going. I’m operating on instinct when I lunge into motion again.
My feet carry me to the door far easier than they ought to. I’m too strong, too fast. Every step feels lighter than the last. Hell, I should be unconscious and bleeding out after a blow like that!
There’s something else, too; it swirls through me like a tempest, like strange exhilaration.
A crazed sort of roar tears out of Ailen. Her cane makes up the distance. This time, its heavy brass grip catches me behind the left knee.
I go down with a yelp, landing hard. Pain splinters through my knee and hip. My palms slap the tiles a fraction of a second before I catch the whistle of the heavy brass grip soaring through the air. The next blow lands on my right shoulder with a dull crunch, burning like fire and putting stars in my eyes.
My essence simmers with what feels like untapped power.It’s chaos, I realize, half-dazed. It’s buzzing in every molecule and thrumming through my aura.
“Don’t you test me further,” Ailen croaks, huffing with exertion. She claws at my back.
As much as I want to grab her and smear her innards on the floor, fawning seems like the smarter tactic. “I won’t! Sister, I’m sorry,” I blubber past my punctured, slowly healing tongue. “I’m—”
