Time stretches between us. He hasn’t said anything and continues to stay silent when he stands and storms out the front door.
Alone and distraught, I make no move to get up, cemented to the seat. The odds of me ever meeting any of Serena’s family were never in my favor, but the world has a very sick sense of humor to have the one person in her life offer me shelter.
I must’ve dosed off, because the next thing I know, the sun is asleep for the night, and the room is now blanketed in moonlight when Atticus stumbles through the door. He is clearly disheveled and out of it, so I stand abruptly, ready to handle anyreaction he throws my way. I was expecting anger, resentment, a fucking fist fight. But none of those things happen. What he does next never crossed my mind as a possibility. Atticus stares at me a moment, maybe trying to collect his thoughts, then barrels toward me and wraps his arms around me.
Limb-locked, I don’t return his embrace.Can’tis more like it, since he has my arms pinned at my sides. Nervous, I don’t speak, don’t breathe, unknowing what this means.
When he finally releases me, he places his hands on my upper arms, looking between my eyes, and it takes everything in me to not break again in front of him.
“Thank you,” he says. At a loss for words, my head tilts in question. “You answered the one thing keeping me up at night, saved me from a life of not ever knowing what happened to her.” Holding on to me like a vise, his grip is almost punishing as he enunciates the last sentence, “I need you to understand it was not your fault.”
“I just—”
“It. Was. Not. Your. Fault,” he pushes desperately.
Lip quivering, I nod my head, and he pulls me in again. This time, I wrap my arms around his large form, and we cry together.
Atticus and I said our goodnights after he made up a makeshift bed on the couch, which I will be sleeping on. He tried insisting on me taking the bed, but I flat out refused.
Sleep meets me halfway as soon as my head hits the pillow, and all thoughts quiet, drowning in darkness.
“Ready or not, here I come,” the venomous voice taunts, shaking the walls of my enclosure. Suddenly, I’m trapped in the confines of a cage again, but instead of bars holding me hostage…it’s my mind.
“Where oh where have you run off to?” The song is in a tune I’m too familiar with. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I’m out in the open to whatever snake has slithered its way in here.
My vision coats in inky night, the silence threatening captivity. Disorientation and panic settle into my marrow, like little bugs scurrying beneath my flesh. I pick and pick, trying to relieve the sensation, but it moves to my head, and I want to claw it out.
Images of nights in the hole I dug myself out of play right in front of my eyes. A stream of unfiltered pictures, showcasing the brutality of my stay.
“There was so much more left in store for you. Tell me, where are you?” Footsteps echo around me, coming from any and all directions. Blazing trails light up my arms, beaming me like a beacon to whatever monster lies in wait.
“The only thing you’re taking with you is my cold. Dead. Body.” My voice is menacing, and I let the betrayal fuel my rage, letting it fester. “Oh, come on, Callum. Don’t be shy, come out and play,” I taunt.
Deep laughter bubbles out of the stranger. “Callum? Please. You haven’t figured it out yet? Come on, Angel. I know you’re smarter than that.”
There it is. The oxygen leeches from my lungs at the use of the nickname. Every ounce of rage I’ve harbored up until this point explodes out of me, until the black pieces of my unconscious break off into a million shiny puzzle pieces, and I’m left standing in a room set ablaze.
Abruptly, my body flings upright, convulsing in a coughing attack. Fist pounding against my chest, my eyes water from the assault of the smoke. Atticus’s stare is concerning, and hismouth moves with unheard words and urgency, the ringing in my ears making it impossible to hear.
Panicked, my eyes wander around the crumbling house. The ceiling starts to cave in, and the paint melts off the walls. Shoving the shirt over my nose and mouth, I manipulate the flames to ensure a pathway to the front door. Not wasting time, Atticus hauls me over his shoulder, and my body bounces as he rushes us through.
Bystanders come out of their homes and stare at the burning building. Red and orange lick the night sky, and I watch in mortification at what I’ve created.
Atticus sets me down on shaky legs, and I have to regain my composure before summoning them to my will. Listening to the cries of the blistering heat, I let my eyes close and focus on letting them in.
Wicked thoughts mix with the others, taunting me to let the town burn. But I push them aside, needing to gain control. All at once, I begin pulling the fire toward me, one ember at a time, until it’s coming to me in streams. My arms lay outstretched in front of me, welcoming the heat and power that runs rampant through my veins. The well inside me overflows, threatening to consume me. It’s too much. I can’t contain it, control it, hold it all in.
It’s consuming. Captivating.
Pain laces over my flesh, and blisters start to form, but I don’t stop. The fire is nearly out. I almost have it.
I drop to my knees in agony, the burning of my bones becoming too much. Atticus steps toward me and reaches his hand out like he’s going to touch me. “Don’t!” I yell.
The fire festers within me, and I need to let it out. Welts form over my body, and when the fire finally dies, I’m left heaving on the ground, holding all of it at bay.
Is this possible? How is my own magic harming me? Eatingaway at me? Belladonna never said anything about this. Nobody did. Was this the plan? Wait for me to burn myself to a crisp?
“Get everyone back,” I command through clenched teeth. I don’t know if he’s fast enough. I don’t know if I should let it burn me from the inside out. But my palms slap onto the ground, and I push it all deep into the core of the realm.
