“That’s right,” Maeve said, her voice unerringly calm. “Iama witch. Witches are real, and I’ve got the power to bring you to your knees. I’ve got a whole army of demons at my beck and call, and I will roast you over an open fire and eat your flesh from your feet up if you ever touch Kelly or any other woman again.”
“You…you…you…”
I saw the exact moment his spirit broke, the moment he realized his God would not save him, that he would die in a fire being tortured by his greatest fears. His whole body sagged, and his voice turned from angry to pleading. “What do you want? I’ll do anything. Just let me live.”
“Oh, you’re going to live. Iwantyou to live. I want you to wake up every day and remember that a woman has power over you. Here’s what’s going to happen.” Maeve shifted her hand slightly so he screamed anew. “Kelly is being discharged from hospital tomorrow, but she will not be returning to this house. You will deposit twenty thousand dollars into her bank account tonight. And then you will never speak to or seek her out again, and nor will you fight the petition for emancipation she’s going to file. I’ll check and if the money isn’t there, I will come back, and I will not be happy. Are we clear?”
“Yes, yes, I’ll do it! Just please don’t hurt me,” he sobbed.
“Did your wife ever say that to you when you beat her with your fists?” Maeve spat in his face. “You are disgusting. If you area representative of your deity on earth, then I am glad to be rid of Him from my life for good.”
She shoved her uncle hard into the desk. Bob yelped as the fire leapt up his shirtsleeve. He dived onto the floor and started rolling around, trying to put the fire out. He got his sleeve out but the fire leapt on his back, so he rocked around the floor like an overturned turtle, bellowing at the top of his lungs for his God to save him.
It would have been hilarious if the room wasn’t rapidly filling with smoke. My eyes wept with tears, and I doubled over in a coughing fit.
“M— Ma—” I tried to choke out her name, but all that came out was more coughing. My throat closed up.
Shite, shite. We have to get out, now.
I could no longer keep my eyes open. I swept my arms around in a circle and connected with Maeve’s waist. I wrapped my arm around her and reeled her closer to me. She leaned against me, coughing violently.
I tried to pry my weeping eyes open, but they weren’t having it. The shrill bleat of the smoke alarm behind my head throbbed against my skull. Panic rose in my chest. We were going to asphyxiate in here if we couldn’t find the way out, but how the hell?—
Arthur, you bellend…the smoke alarm!
The bleating alarm oriented me in the space. I dragged Maeve towards it, bending as low as I could to try and get beneath the smoke where the air was more breathable. There wasn’t as much smoke in the hall. I pressed my hand against the wall, knocking photographs off as I dragged Maeve away.
We crashed through the front door and collapsed on the porch, gasping in the fresh air. My throat burned. After a few moments, I could open my eyes again. Sirens blared down the road.
“We’ve got to go.” Maeve scrambled to her feet, looping her arm under my elbow. I winced as she gripped over the fresh cut. We raced down the path and clambered into the car.
“Drive!” Maeve yelled, gripping the Corvette’s dashboard.
“What about the fire?” I asked, wishing Flynn and his water magic were here.
“Not our problem,” Maeve shot back, watching in the side mirror as the fire truck screamed into the drive and the back porch collapsed. “His God will put it out for him.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
MAEVE
My whole body trembled as I watched the flames consume Uncle Bob’s historic ranch. I wanted to feel triumphant. He’d been a horrible person who beat his wife into submission and hurt my sister when she was at her most vulnerable, and he did it all in the name of the same God my dead parents believed was good and holy.
I wanted to smile. I wanted to whoop for joy and yell that righteous justice had been done.
Instead, my fingers itched to grab the wheel and turn the car around. I longed to crawl back into that house and make sure my uncle and aunt were okay. I wanted to write them a “sorry I burned your house down and showed you the horrors of your own nightmares” sympathy card.
It was just like the other day when I’d sent that guy through the window at the pub.
My head buzzed with flashes of Uncle Bob’s nightmares. They were disturbing and satisfying in their poetic justice. His worst fears realized were feminists taking over the government, being forced to sit on community committees with different coloured skin, and discovering that he’d chosen the wrong godand missed out on the seventy-five virgins. Bigotry, hatred, and horror at being challenged and found wanting. He was so terrified of losing his power that he lived inside a cage of his own making.
And I’d seen it all through his eyes. I hadn’t even known I could do that – call up someone’s nightmares and play them back like a showreel. I’d had no plan when I made Arthur drive me to the ranch. I just knew that Kelly couldn’t stand up to this guy, but I could.
Bob towered over me, trying to intimidate me, but all I could see was the dream I had where he grabbed Kelly and told her she was to obey him, and I got angrier and angrier, and the pillar of power rose up from inside me and I grabbed his face andpushed.
I got what I wanted. Uncle Bob would leave Kelly alone. He would free her. She had enough money that she could start college, pay for an apartment, or do whatever she wanted. I’d never again have to look down at my sister’s face in a hospital bed after hearing how she’d tried to hurt herself.
So why did my stomach feel all tight and horrible, and why wouldn’t my hands stop shaking?
