Page 5

“Why would my visions lead me all the way here just to kill a demon? Surely there’s another coven closer?”

Sloane slows, veering the bike down a side road, before another blast strikes.

Clinging to the shadows of the surrounding buildings, we move closer to the fight. I call my magic forward, trying to sense the emotions of those involved.

“Sloane,” I say, my voice low in warning. Apprehension fills her eyes as she turns to face me. “I’m picking up at least twelve different energies.”

“Enemies?” Sloane keeps scanning the area, head whipping back and forth until we take cover behind another building.

I attempt to filter through the onslaught of emotions, but there are too many to decipher. “I can’t tell.”

Sloane gives me a nod, her fingers twitching as she holds her powers at the ready.

Our powers perfectly match our personalities. Sloane has a reactive power where she can manipulate energy. She can summon it like a barrier between us and danger, or shoot it like a rocket. Much like her temperament—fearless, wild, and an act-now, think-later kind of mentality.

My magic is more emotional. I get visions, mostly of people we need to protect, problems we need to solve for the good of humans and witchkind, but I also have the ability to read and control the emotions of those around me. I can sense what they’re feeling, and I can alter them. I can replace fear with courage, and stress with peace. If only it worked on me. The manipulation is immune to witches and other supernaturals. I can only influence humans.

The sky lights up with flashes of white and blue, and sounds like cracking thunder.

There’s a clearing of grass, bordered by shrubs and trees, and an old, dark brick building beyond that. Right in the center of the open area, a group is fighting. They switch between hand-to-hand combat and supernatural defenses. Some with fire bursting from their palms, others with smoked limbs that look like inky veins. Demons.

A large wolf with gray and white fur fights among them. His teeth snap viciously at a demon, this one with yellow fireballs shooting like cannons from his eyes. But some of the demons are fighting with each other.

“Wait.” Sloane’s voice mirrors my own internal confusion. “Who’s the bad guy?”

Witches and wolves can join forces if the occasion calls for it, but generally, we keep to ourselves. Wolves and demons working together, though—that’s unheard of.

One of the yellow-eyed demons shoots his fireballs at one of the demons fighting beside the wolf. The tattoos on his arm look like scars under the moonlight, shimmering over his skin as he lifts an arm, blocking the action.

At the last second, one of the other demons casts his power forward. A smoky whip strikes the fire, shattering it into a thousand sparks that rain over the scene and illuminate the fight.

Three wolves.

Four demons who look like regular guys. Young, around our age to the average human, but in reality, they could be a few hundred years old.

They fight five other demons who are dressed in the way we’re used to seeing: black suit-like uniforms, marred skin from years of fighting enemies, or abuse at the hands of their warden. Two of them look identical, even moving in the same way.

The wolf yelps when he hits the grass, rolling with one of the twins mounted on his back.

“Oh, hell no.” Sloane steps out from the building’s shadows and throws a force field toward them, knocking the demon off the wolf.

All the attention falls on us. Time seems to slow before the other twin comes hurtling toward us.

I may not have a defensive power, but my higher sense of emotion makes it easier to read people’s body language, anticipating their next moves. It comes in handy for physical fights, a skill I practice twice as hard as Sloane.

My sister spins to face me, crouching down and locking her hands together. I charge forward, stepping one foot on her palms, the other on her shoulder, in a practiced move. I tuck my head, whipping my back leg as fast and hard as I can into a somersault over the guy’s back. Sloane and I both turn, leaving him sandwiched between us, as she catches him in a force field and I strike him through the back with a charmed dagger. Light pours from the wound as he screams, clutching his chest. His body is replaced by nothing more than dust.

“Witch!” a disgruntled scream pierces the night.

The twin of the fallen demon sets his eyes on me, full of rage and gritting his teeth. He pushes the wolf off him, then storms toward us. Fire shoots from his eyes, but Sloane stops it with her force field, sending it on an upward path to shatter above us like specks of glitter.

His attention shifts to my sister.

My head whips around, searching for the other demons. One is caught in the middle of three others.

Demons may fight amongst themselves if they’re climbing ranks or after the same bounty, but I can’t see anything of value here that would turn them against each other.

Maybe it’s something to do with my vision. It can’t be a coincidence we’re all here tonight.