The big cat must have decided to stop and hang back because it’s only now that I can discern its features.
I assumed it was one of the male panthers, but my heart leaps.
Anarchy!
A cry of happiness leaves my lips, and I’m grateful that we’re concealed within the mist so my cry doesn’t draw my father’s attention. “Anarchy, you’re alive!”
She closes the gap between her and me, snarling a greeting, her big, silver eyes turn up to mine. She’s big enough that if I were standing upright, instead of floating on my back in the mist, her backbone would reach my hips.
Right now, she’s baring her deadly silver claws and her silver teeth, but if she closes her eyes and retracts her claws, she can fully camouflage in dark places.
She and her three brothers are the only shadow panthers in existence, although most supernaturals don’t know about them. I wouldn’t, either, if my mother hadn’t told me about them.
I make a snarling sound back at her, then smile at Diavolo’s back.
He saved her when I couldn’t.
He will save my brother, too.
Diavolo glances back at me, every muscle in his body tense. “Anarchy will stay beside you,” he says. “Be prepared for me to move fast.”
In response, Anarchy snarls. She turns to face in my father’s direction, her body straining forward as if her impulse is to attack.
Diavolo bursts through the edge of the mist, sounds from the other side of the room break through, and all I catch of my father’s voice is “fucking disappointment” before Diavolo races toward him.
The keeper speeds across the short distance in a whirlwind of smoke, his left hand extended toward my father, who barely has the chance to startle at Diavolo’s sudden appearance.
The air pulses.
Black light blasts from Diavolo’s outstretched hand into my father’s form, colliding with his light.
I feel the impact of the collision all the way inside the mist, the blowback washing across me and jostling me within the fog.
My father is thrown against the far wall, but the light around him doesn’t diminish. If anything, it only grows stronger, expanding and spreading like a shield around him until I can hardly make out his features.
The keeper’s hand remains outstretched, dark magic pouring from his palm, burning across the air and spilling toward the light.
The two powers spark and explode against each other and I wonder if this is what fireworks or maybe bombs look like when they go off—a chaotic mess of light and dark clashing against each other. A volatile mix that seems to create an increasing pressure in the air around me.
It’s so intense that my ears hurt. I whimper, afraid that my eardrums might burst.
Beside me, Anarchy yowls softly. Her ears are pinned back and she drags a paw across one of them as if she’s in pain.
The pressure increases. Andincreases.
I fight the impulse to squeeze my eyes closed because all this pressure can only mean the real explosion is yet to come.
Diavolo darts toward Lucian and wraps his fist around the back of Lucian’s shirt, wrenching him into the air before my brother can give a startled shout.
Still pouring dark magic into the wash, the keeper races—facing partially backward—toward me, dragging my brother so fast that his feet bounce against the floor.
The dark light shuts off, the keeper spins to face me, and now his free hand is extended toward me, reaching for me.
Behind him, the mess of dark magic and light magic seems to become still. A fucking scary calm.
The keeper’s face is pale.
His fear, so unexpected, makes my heart squeeze with anxiety.
