But I couldn’t. It was too late. The cage was breaking.
* * *
Radiant heat flooded my body. Skin prickling, I saw luminous patterns swirl beneath the surface of my arms, like ink dropped in water. The scar on my flesh was a brand of pure fire, a focused agony that stole my breath. My reflection warped in the dark glass of the oven door—a stranger stared back, her pupils not brown but swirling vortexes of gold, lit from within. The cutlery in the drawer rattled. A mug on the counter skittered to the edge and shattered on the tile floor, the sound swallowed by the roar in my head.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. The energy inside me was a live thing, a tectonic strain grinding against the seams of my skin.
The sudden, shrill ring of my phone cracked the tension like a whip. It sat on the countertop, a black rectangle of noise, vibrating against the wood. Its screen lit up the gloom, casting long silhouettes that danced with the tremors running through my own hands, and the phone’s insistent cry was the sound of the lock breaking.
“Selene!” Eamon’s voice cut through the chaos. He was across theroom in a second, his movements desperate but sure. He grabbed my arms, his grip a firm anchor in the storm. “Breathe. Just breathe. You have to control it.”
“I can’t!” The words ripped from my throat, a hoarse sob. The kitchen trembled around us. Another plate crashed.
He placed his hand flat over my chest, right over my hammering heart. His palm was warm, rough with callouses I knew by heart.
“I’ve got you, Little Sun,” he whispered, using the name he hadn’t spoken since I was a child. “I’ve got you.”
A whisper of his own hidden magic, cool and steady, met the inferno of mine. It was a plea. A grounding wire for a lightning strike.
The raging energy inside me didn’t vanish, but it found a channel, a release. The violent shaking of the room subsided. The glittering patterns under my skin retreated, and the burning on my shoulder dulled to a deep, throbbing ache.
I gasped, sucking in air, my body trembling with the aftershocks.
The phone stopped buzzing. The void it left behind was absolute, broken only by my ragged breaths. Slowly, shakily, I moved away from Eamon. He looked drained, his face grey, the effort costing him more than I could comprehend.
Then the mobile shrieked once more. That insistent, piercing electronic ring.
My legs finally obeyed me. I stumbled to the counter, my hand shaking so hard I nearly dropped the device. The small display blinked awake with a harsh little buzz. Five missed calls—all from Dane.
I hit the call button with an unsteady thumb and lifted the handset to my ear.
“Dane.” My voice was a ghost of itself.
“Selene, where are you? There’s another one.” His words were clipped, stripped of all warmth. Pure urgency. “A patrol unit found a body in the Lows. Calysteri. It’s a mess.”
The Low Warrens. Neutral ground for Varkyn mercs andUmbrakynn shadows—the sort of place where even magic kept its head down.
A cold dread spiked through the lingering heat in my veins. “ACD?”
“Not yet, but they’re on their way. We’ve got minutes, maybe. If we want a clean look, it’s now or never.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the spinning world to steady. A detective. That’s what I was. This was what I did. The lie was a comfortable armour. I pulled it on. “I’m on my way.”
My voice sounded almost normal.
I ended the call and shoved the phone into my pocket, turning to grab my jacket.
Eamon stood in my path, his face a mask of terror.
“You cannot go.” His voice was low, strained. “You’re not ready. You’re not stable. Out there, like this… you’re a beacon. They will feel you.”
“I have a job to do.” I tried to push past him, but he blocked my way.
“Your job just got you put on a centuries-old kill list! Liora gave her life to hide you. Don’t throw it away now!”
His panic fuelled my own. I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t be this… this thing with sealed magic. Out there, on a case, I was Detective Rowan. Here, I was a live wire with no way to ground.
“I have to go.” The words were flat steel. I shoved past him, my arm bumping his, and wrenched the front door open.
