Chapter 23 #4
Instead of giving her the satisfaction of a response, I tilt my head and look at her with something approaching pity.
“You talk far too much,” I say simply, then flick my wrist and send her flying away from me with casual indifference.
I make sure she doesn’t land hard enough to kill her.
I’m not a murderer, no matter how much she might deserve it, but she hits the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of her lungs and hopefully shut her up for a few precious minutes.
She shrieks once as she tumbles across the forest floor, then finally, blessedly falls silent.
I turn to deal with Harold next, but before I can take more than a step in his direction, movement explodes from the edge of the clearing like a small army charging into battle.
Two massive wolves burst through the tree line first, snarling low and absolutely lethal as they charge straight toward Harold, who has only just managed to drag his bruised and battered body upright.
One of them slams into him before he can even think about running, sending him sprawling back into the dirt with a bone-rattling impact that has to hurt.
The Wolf plants one enormous paw on Harold’s chest and snaps his powerful jaws inches from the councilman’s terrified face, every line of his body promising violence barely held in check.
Maceo.
The second Wolf circles the perimeter of the clearing, teeth bared in a permanent snarl, fur bristling along his spine, radiating barely controlled fury.
Within moments, what looks like half the pack arrives through the trees, surrounding the clearing and cutting off any possible escape routes.
My heart swells with warmth and gratitude despite everything that’s happened, they came for me.
More figures spill into the clearing after the wolves, and I recognize them immediately.
Lucien moves through the chaos like something carved from moonlight and barely contained rage, elegant even in his fury, bending tree branches out of his way with casual sweeps of his hands.
Ezra follows half a step behind him, his usually calm face, etched in cold anger that’s somehow more terrifying than shouting would have been.
Behind them, what looks like half the town gathers at the edges of the clearing, shocked murmurs breaking out as everyone takes in the scene laid bare before them.
Lenora crumpled on the ground, semiconscious and covered in dirt.
Harold pinned beneath Maceo and surrounded by the rest of his pack, terror written across every line of his body.
Me standing in the center of it all, practically glowing with magic that continues to pour off me in visible waves.
The circle of overturned lanterns, the shattered remains of the stone altar, the ash scattered where worn pages once held their secrets.
It won’t take much deductive reasoning for the assembled townspeople to figure out exactly what happened here tonight, to witness the truth about their supposedly beloved mayor and her loyal accomplice.
Harold is predictably the first to crack under the pressure, because of course he is.
“She made me do it,” he blurts out, pointing frantically at Lenora’s prone form while scrambling backward in the dirt as much as Maceo’s restraining paw will allow.
“She threatened me, said she’d destroy my business, ruin my family’s reputation in town, make sure I lost everything if I didn’t help her.
She forced me to bring Miss Thorne here tonight.
This was never my idea, I swear it wasn’t. ”
Lenora slowly turns her head in his direction, the movement sluggish but deliberate, and there’s nothing but pure, murderous intent burning in her eyes.
Coward. Traitor. Weak, pathetic fool. That’s what her expression is saying, though she doesn’t have the breath to speak the words aloud.
None of it matters now, though, the entire town has witnessed his confession, heard the truth spilled from his own lips.
Ezra’s searching gaze finds me first, frantic and desperate for only the briefest second before overwhelming relief breaks across his face so sharply it nearly undoes what little composure I have left.
Lucien stops dead in his tracks when he sees me standing upright and unharmed, sees the power still sparking faintly around my hands like captured lightning, and something that might be awe flickers across his usually composed features as both men start making their way toward me through the crowd.
No one speaks for a long moment, everyone too stunned and overwhelmed to make sense of what they’re witnessing. The silence stretches taut as a wire, filled with shock and confusion and the electric aftermath of unleashed magic.
Then a sound like thunder erupts in the distance, a deep, resonant bang that seems to shake the very ground beneath our feet.
The assembled crowd cries out in horror as the faint, comforting glow that usually emanates from the town beyond the trees suddenly stutters and dies, leaving nothing but darkness where Ruby Springs should be.
“The wards!” someone shouts.