"Check your watch, Auntie," I whisper.
Matilde frowns.
Click.
"It’s 12:01," I announce. "Christmas Day."
I step forward, the mud squelching between my toes.
"The Truce is over."
Matilde’s eyes widen. The mask of elegance slips.
She thrusts her hand forward.
The air in front of me warps. A concussive blast of kinetic magic—invisible, heavy as a freight train—slams into me.
I don't have time to dodge.
The impact lifts me off my feet. I fly backward, smashing into the trunk of a cypress tree. The wood cracks. My breath leaves my lungs in a painfulwhoosh. I hit the mud, gasping, my vision swimming with stars.
"Miranda!" Jax roars.
"Pathetic," Matilde laughs. She flicks her wrist.
Another wave of force hits me, pinning me to the tree. It feels like a giant hand crushing my ribcage. I can hear the cartilage straining.
"You have power," Matilde taunts, walking down the stairs, the shadows swirling around her like a cloak. "But you have no discipline. You are a battery without a circuit. I am going to pop you like a blister."
She raises her hand for a killing blow, her fingers curled into a claw.
Jax moves.
He blurs, a streak of black rage intercepting her path. He puts his body between us.
Matilde doesn't even look at him. She backhands the air.
The magic hits Jax. It sends him sprawling, tumbling through the mud. He hits the ground hard, skidding, his skin flayed open by the invisible force.
"Jax!" I scream.
He struggles to get up, blood pouring from his nose, but the magic is holding him down, pressing him into the earth.
"Stay down, dog," Matilde spits. "I’ll skin you after I finish your whore."
She turns back to me. She gathers the shadows, condensing them into a spear of dark energy.
Something inside me snaps.
The schematic changes. The logic centers of my brain—the parts that saymagic is impossible—burn away. In their place, instinct takes the wheel.
I am not just a mechanic. Not just a Wolf or a Vampire. I am a Chimera. I am the bridge.
I push off the tree.
"Trust the design," I whisper to myself.
I feel the energy in the air. I feel the static of Matilde’s spell. It’s not magic; it’s just energy. And energy can be redirected.
