Chapter 7 #2
A small cry came from my throat as I felt my terror manifest. Lightning snapped through the tent right as the lights were brought back up, dozens of them bursting, sparks flying up like firecrackers.
The spectators trilled with oohs and ahhs, thinking this was some great magic trick.
But I knew better.
Through the shadows and obscurity, Jethro’s gaze found me.
A sharp inhale tucked in my throat, his attention zeroing on me as if he somehow knew I was the culprit. His jaw clenched before he turned his head back to the audience, becoming the Master again.
I didn’t hesitate. I bolted out the front entrance, knocking into a few people running late for the performance. The frosty night air mushroomed in front of me, my skin hot and sticky, stinging against the sudden icy temperatures.
My feet took me down the path, heading back to our camp, which had no barrier between the circus and us, except the lights grew fewer, the darkness crawling over you like a blanket.
Coming to a stop, I took in huge gulping breaths, my muscles quivering. Trepidation shoved at the energy gurgling inside me, swallowing down the sharp edges of dread, guilt, and grief.
My lids shut, and images of Tad burned through my mind. His expression when my magic hit him, how his frail form flew through the air, his dead eyes staring up at the sky.
A deep sob churned in my chest, wrapping around my lungs and strangling out the oxygen. I had not faced what I had done. The fact I had killed my friend—and hundreds of others. And I couldn’t now. It was too much. The weight would crush me until I would no longer get up.
It wasn’t just the fear of losing control.
It was the revelation that I liked it. Wanted more.
The high of reaping souls—of giving and taking life.
To use the magic at my will and avenge. End all my pain and suffering and take everyone down who caused it except my invisible army.
They didn’t see any difference . . . they harvested lives with no distinction to appease their master.
It wasn’t just the nectar I feared; it was myself.
A tickle pricked up the back of my neck, and the sensation of being watched curved my head around, standing me up slowly.
Everyone was in the large tent or in the carnival section; this area was quiet. Still.
Fog curled over the ground, wrapping around the forest we butted up against. A shiver ran down my spine, an alarm triggering my heart to pound.
My eyes took in everything. Trepidation danced on my bones, and a brush of icy wind licked through my mind, whispering something I could not hear.
The need to run back to the big tent wormed through my legs, stepping me back cautiously.
Larger plumes of air rolled out of my mouth as I circled around, the sensation growing stronger.
Watched.
Hunted.
A twig snapped and I swung back around, almost letting out a scream.
Only two feet away was Esmeralda, her dark, creepy gaze on me.
“Holy shit!” I stumbled back. How the hell did she sneak up on me like that?
“I see you.” She moved closer, her voice rough. “And I see them too. Death surrounds you, girl. And it will destroy everyone for you.” With that, she turned away, gliding back to her vardo, leaving me shivering, but not from the cold.
“Princess . . .”
My eyes bolted open with a gasp at the deep rough voice and the sensation I wasn’t alone. My core pulsed with the need, desire like water trickling over my skin. It was only a wisp of wind, a ghost with aqua eyes hovering over me, and the moment my eyes were fully open, he was gone.
My heart slammed against my ribs. My skin was hot though the air was freezing. Sitting up, my attention darted around the wagon, looking for someone who wasn’t there. Did I dream it? Or was the link coming back?
Conflicting emotions of happiness and fear knocked into each other. If the bond was starting to return, there wasn’t anywhere I could hide. Not from him.
Leaning against the sideboard, I breathed in and out, trying to calm myself. My heart ached for another moment, another second to feel him near me. Tears filled my eyes, my mind twisting me up so much, I could even smell him. If violence, lust, and rage had a scent, it would be Warwick.
Rubbing my face, I dropped my gaze to the corner of a box hidden under my pillow. I tugged it to me, the weight of the nectar inside heavier than you’d think. It carried the weight of that night twenty years ago. Like a time capsule, it waited for the day to be let out and rediscovered.
My shoulders dropped with both relief and sadness when I peeked inside. It still lay there with a dull emptiness. Maybe I had only dreamed about Farkas. Though it wouldn’t be long before it came back, probably drawing more than Warwick and Scorpion to me.
The urge to chuck it into the river, hoping for it to be forever buried in the silt and mud, clashed brutally against the need to keep it close and protect it.
My fingers reached out, the desire to hold it and feel it come to life consuming me.
I wanted the magic to take over, burning power through my bones.
Reason and logic collided in me like a gale force wind, spinning my head and flushing blood quicker through my veins.
Jerking my hand back with a heaving cry, I slammed the box shut, tossing it back on my pillow.
My back shoved into the sideboard, my legs pushing me back as if I could escape the force field it was trying to pull me into.