Chapter 12
Twelve
IZZY
Michelle moves to stand beside her brother, a decidedly predatory smile on her pretty face.
It’s the type of smile I imagine a lion would have if it took human form.
It looks strange in contrast to her elfin features, like the universe is decreeing that someone as small as her shouldn’t appear so terrifying.
“Isabella, long time no see.” Her voice is practically a purr as she grins at me before sliding her gaze to Ansel. “And hello, handsome.”
Honestly, it’s a testament to my self-control that I don’t punch the girl again.
But that would be one battle I can’t win, given the circumstances—not in the metaphorical belly of the beast.
“Ahh. Michelle, isn’t it?” I feign innocence as I blink up at her. “Did the gatekeeper fall asleep on the job?”
Her brows pucker. “Gatekeeper?”
“To hell, of course. How else did you get out?”
Ansel twists his head away to hide his smile, and even Dyson disguises his laugh with an ill-timed cough. Michelle’s face turns red with fury.
Good.
I want her to come at me, because that will give me the excuse to beat the shit out of her. I still remember the despondence on Reid’s face when he told me what she did to him.
She sexually assaulted him. Then, when he rejected her, she told her brother that Reid took her virginity by force and then broke up with her. Dyson may have been the one to place the curse on Reid, but all of it stems back to Michelle.
I rearrange my stance so my weight is evenly distributed and then eye the witch like the loose cannon she is. If she attacks me, I’ll have to act quickly or risk facing off against her unpredictable magic. I have no weapons on me, but I don’t need any. A fist to the face should do the job nicely.
But Michelle surprises me by squeezing her eyelids shut, taking a deep breath, and then muttering to Hecate, her voice too low for me to hear properly. After a long moment, she pushes back her shoulders and spears me with a look.
“I just wanted to officially welcome you to the school.” Each word is curt and concise, and the smile on her face is forced. Someone obviously told her to be polite to me. I don’t know if this is comical to watch…or terrifying. “If you need anything, please let me know.”
“Unless we need cloven feet for any spells we may learn, I think we’re good for now,” Ansel drawls, and my heart flutters.
Awww. He doesn’t even know why I hate Michelle, yet he’s taking my side, no questions asked.
I really, really want to kiss him right now.
The red on Michelle’s cheeks branches to the tips of her ears. “I don’t have cloven feet.”
It sounds as if she’s speaking through clenched teeth.
Ansel stares at her in alarm, his eyes comically wide in his handsome face. “I never said you did. Why would you assume that?”
Ahh. Gaslighting at its finest.
Michelle sputters, momentarily at a loss for words, before she smooths down the sides of her skirt. “I just figured we should put the past in the past since we’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”
“We only have to stay here one month,” I retort with an eye roll. “I can definitely ignore your entire existence for that long.”
I don’t bother to add that I’ll be gone every weekend.
A wicked smile cracks Michelle’s facade before she can smother it. She quickly rearranges her features until they’re a mask of feigned sympathy. One of her manicured hands flutters to her chest, directly over her heart.
“Oh dear. Is that what you think?” The condescension in her tone makes me want to slap her.
“We made a deal with Delaney,” I snap. Or at least, I did. I can only assume Ansel was told something similar to me. “One month. That’s it.”
”Michelle…” Dyson warns, all of his amusement leaching away and his playful tone evaporating. “Stop.”
Michelle ignores her brother and takes a single step closer to me. “Tell me, Izzy… Did you ask Mother Delaney to clarify whether that month was in our time or human time?”
She cocks her head to the side, midnight-black hair draping over one shoulder, as she waits for me to respond.
Trepidation lacerates my chest.
“What do you mean?” I hate admitting that I’m confused—fucking despise it—but alarm bells are ringing in my head simultaneously
Surprisingly, it’s not Michelle or Dyson who answers, but Celeste, who steps forward, nibbling on her nail.
“I’m so sorry, Izzy. I didn’t think about this when you made your deal.
I swear.” She swallows and finally drops her hand to her side.
“Time moves differently in the covenstead. A month in here could be only a few days in the real world. So, technically, you’ll be able to return home every weekend, but it’ll feel like months before you’re able to do so. ”
“See?” Michelle tosses her hair back. “I told you we’re going to get to know each other well.”
I feel the color drain from my cheeks at her words and accompanying smirk.
Ansel takes a step closer to me, his body radiating a comforting heat I want to bathe in. He places a hand on my shoulder and turns me to face him.
“It may feel like a month in here, but it’ll still only be a week out there,” he tells me, attempting to keep his voice soft so the others won’t overhear. “Your…guys will only be missing you for a week.”
He stumbles over the word “guys” as if he’s unsure of what to call them. I honestly don’t know if he’s learned about mates yet, and a part of me is scared for him to find out.
Will he want nothing to do with me once he discovers I’m “mated” to a group of wolves and a vampire?
“A month, Ansel,” I whisper, barely able to open my mouth. “I have to stay here a month, if not longer, until I’m able to see my friends and family.”
My mates.
Jake, Hale, Gerry, Seth, and Lissa.
Kyle and Silas.
Desiree.
It may only feel like a week for them, but for me, it’ll be an eternity. An eternity of wondering if they’re okay, if they’re unharmed, if they’re even still alive after the attack.
An iron vise squeezes my throat.
Ansel immediately pulls me into his arms, and I come willingly, resting my cheek against his rapidly beating heart.
“We’ll figure it out, Illy. I promise. Maybe we can ask Delaney if we can check in on the others so we know they’re okay.”
I take comfort in his words, in his soothing presence, allowing myself to sink deeper into him. He smells different than normal, but I can’t put my finger on why. Maybe he used a different shampoo. Either way, being in his arms is exactly the balm I need.
Behind me, Michelle makes a smart-ass comment about referring to the Mother as Delaney, which incites a sarcastic retort from Dyson, of all people. Celeste tentatively tries to defend my apparent “insubordination,” but Michelle’s rant cuts her off.
“She can’t seriously believe she’ll get preferential treatment,” Michelle is saying to both Celeste and Dyson, waving her hands in the air.
Celeste resumes biting her nail. “Mother Delaney is her aunt.”
Michelle snorts. “Then that means her mother was the filthy whore who slept with those wolves and then offed herself.” She whirls towards me and curls her upper lip. “Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.”
That’s it.
Untangling myself from Ansel’s arms, I launch myself at the witch.
The smartest thing I’ve ever done in my life? Not at all.
The most satisfying? Yup.
My fist connects with her cheek, jerking her head to the side.
“That was for my mother, you evil bitch,” I hiss. When she begins to lift her head, I punch her again. “And this one is for Reid.”
Dyson makes a move towards the two of us, and I have no idea if it’s because he means to physically pull me away from his sister, enter the fray himself, or reprimand Michelle for being a bitch. Either way, he doesn’t make it more than a step before Ansel’s there, pushing him back.
“Stay the fuck away from her,” Ansel snaps, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater.
Ansel—sweet, innocent, nerdy Ansel, who blushes when you say the words “duty” and “tush”—looks seconds away from committing murder in my defense. Aww.
“Fuck off.” Dyson waves a hand in the air, and the blast of magic sends Ansel flying backwards into a group of warlocks and witches who are climbing the stairs.
Both a warlock and a witch fall over, the latter accidentally spilling the drink of the girl beside her.
“Ansel!” I rush towards my friend, but Michelle grabs a fistful of my hair, pulling me back.
“I’m going to fucking rip your heart out, bitch,” she hisses in my ear.
As far as threats go, hers is pretty good. Not the best, admittedly, but a solid five on a scale of one to ten.
In front of me, Ansel is shakily getting to his feet, and the girl drenched in coffee is screaming at the one who spilled it in the first place. One of the warlocks snaps something at her, and a second man immediately steps forward, his hands balled into fists.
A few things happen very, very quickly.
First, Ansel lunges at Dyson with a snarl of pure, unfettered rage.
Next, the girl drenched in coffee slaps the other girl across the face. This causes one of the guys to take a threatening step forward, only to have a third girl cast a spell that causes him to hover in the air.
The two men I spotted earlier conjure what appear to be fireballs and toss them at each other.
And finally, Michelle reaches for my face, and electricity crackles from her fingertips, reverberating through me.
Pain like I’ve never experienced before wracks my body.
A sob catches in my throat, and tears burn and sizzle where they touch my skin.
I know nothing but pain. It becomes my entire identity. Pain. Pain. Pain.
Ansel cries out as he’s thrown to the floor by Dyson, who looks more annoyed than angry.
One of the girl’s clothing is on fire, and her friend desperately douses her with water in an attempt to put it out.
Two guys are wrestling on the ground, their clothing destroyed and burn marks littering their skin.
And through it all…pain.
My hair singes. My skin burns. My vision goes hazy.
Something inside of me just…snaps. I don’t know what that something is, but it feels like a gate has been blasted open. I feel warm and cold all at once, and my fingers and toes tingle—and not because of the electricity coursing through me.
My skin suddenly feels too tight, like I’m wearing clothing that’s two sizes too small, and I desperately want to scratch at my arms and sides. Why am I so itchy?
I throw my head back and, with a shout, thrust my arms out in front of me. The movement is entirely instinctive. I’m not thinking clearly.
But raw power—the likes of which I’ve never experienced before—explodes out of me.
Every witch and warlock is tossed backwards, the floor beneath my feet begins to tremble, and the walls crackle and then begin to shatter.
A piece of debris rains down from the ceiling, then another one, then another.
No! Stop! You have to stop this! I mentally scream at myself, knowing that if I don’t get a grip on whatever this is, I could kill everyone here.
I could kill Ansel.
I fall to my knees as wave after wave of unencumbered power radiates from me. Glass shatters. People begin to scream. More and more debris joins the others around me.
“Isabella, stop this!”
That voice… Do I recognize it? I think I do, but I can’t associate a name with it.
“You need to neutralize the threat!” This is someone else.
“Don’t fucking touch her!” Ansel. That’s Ansel’s voice.
He’s okay. I didn’t hurt him.
A tiny whimper escapes me as I curl in on myself like old, brittle paper. Every one of my veins is on fire. This is ten times worse than when Michelle electrocuted me.
Am I dying?
Or did I already die?
Is this hell?
More dust. More debris. More glass. More screams.
And still, the fountain inside of me is unending.
One of the plants beside me begins to shrivel and turn brown. And I swear that I feel more energized than I did before.
Stop this, Izzy! Stop this! Stop this!
No matter how loud I scream at myself, the power doesn’t end. It’s relentless. Consuming. Unyielding. Terrifying.
Then I feel someone beside me, her red hair whipping around her angelic face, and she whispers, “Sleep.”
I do.