Chapter 16 #2
They’re going to kill him.
I suck in a shuddering breath, and I’m hit with a blast of citrus and steeped tea. My chest heaves. Until now, my terror had stopped me noticing anyone else’s, but now it’s all I can sense. All I can taste. Pungent and acidic, like a blade slicing through a lemon. The girl nearest to me reeks.
Astin’s back hits the edge of the maze. The wraiths close in. He’s got nowhere to go. No way to save himself.
But I do.
My body shakes. I’m not powerless. I’m not insignificant. I’ve been so afraid of my magic, of the chance I might hurt someone again, I never considered the possibility that not using it could cause as much devastation.
I just about survived losing Michael. I wouldn’t survive losing Astin.
Astin ducks an outstretched claw, barely, but there’s another already reaching for him. I don’t know how much longer he’ll last.
I take a deep breath. Another. Fear. Worry. Panic. I drink it all in and my fingers flex. My mouth waters.
I grab the person closest to me – the girl, I think – and latch on to her arm.
Dig my nails in hard. I gasp. Gag. It’s too much.
Her fear tastes so sharp it’s like swallowing knives, nettles, broken glass, all at once, until my veins are bursting with it, and then I’m the one that’s terrified.
It’s all I can feel. My heart’s more in overdrive than it’s ever been, my whole body shaking, tears streaming down my cheeks, and it’s too awful, too much, nobody should have this much fear inside them, and the more I take, the worse it grows. I want to curl into a ball and hide.
And yet.
And yet.
I also want more. I can’t help it. The emotion might be awful, but it’s an emotion, and I want it.
My knees buckle, and yet the more I take, the stronger I feel.
I press my nails deeper. It’s not enough.
More of her terror slams into me, a river breaking free of its dam, and it’s such a feast. I choke.
Someone is screaming, but I can barely hear, can’t understand where it’s coming from.
All I know is I’ve been half starved, and now there’s a banquet in front of me.
If I channel all her fear, what else might there be for me to sample?
Shadows darken my vision. I blink, suddenly dizzy. The wraiths have abandoned Astin in favour of stopping me, and they glide in my direction, all rippling smoke and shadow, but they don’t attack.
They’re afraid.
I force myself to pull my nails free of the girl’s arm – the screaming continues; who is screaming?
– and face them. I’m stuffed full, brimming with magic, but I don’t have a clue how to will it into something that’ll stop the wraiths.
I wave my arm in the air, hoping for something to happen, and the intent must be enough, because a great ball of fire blazes from my hand.
The flames are black, sizzling and spitting smoke that burns hotter and hotter.
The wraiths rear up, and I throw it in their direction.
It explodes on impact, sending me soaring backwards, my teeth rattling as I crash to the ground.
I recover as fast as I can, leaping to my feet and focusing on the fire, urging it to keep blazing.
Flames dance and swirl around the remaining wraiths.
Shadows spurt in the air, followed by cries of agony, but it’s hard to tell what’s wraith and what’s my fire, because all the magic is dark, dark and awful –
Something golden clips across my vision, a small spark that catches alight when it hits the teeming mass of black, and the wraiths scream louder, burning from the inside. Yes. Joy erupts in my chest, because this is working.
I’m using magic for the first time in my life, and it’s for good. Destructive, yes, but I’m destroying something that deserves it. Maybe once the wraiths are gone, the Souleater who did this will come out of hiding to face me.
Let them come.
In fact, I hope it is the Souleater who attacked Shiverholde, here to stop Damian’s plans. I’ll take delight in stopping them instead. I’m the one who’s all-powerful now, crackling and fizzing like I’m filled with lightning.
The wraiths let out one final scream, before erupting into ash that’s stolen by the wind. I allow the flames to die.
Stillness descends, and I let out a sound that’s half laugh, half sigh.
I smile at everyone around me, but they’re wide-eyed, trembling in fear. Why are they looking at me like that? Why don’t they get it? I saved them.
I saved them. I did. I –
One final moment of victorious silence, and everything comes to me in a rush.
The bodies. The destroyed clearing. The smoke in the air.
The screaming near my ear.
Was it always that loud?
Using my powers was like having my head submerged beneath water, but now I’ve surfaced for air to find the land isn’t the same. Suddenly, I don’t feel powerful. I feel sick. Nauseous. Disgusted. Snakes writhe in my belly.
I used magic. And those thoughts I’d been having, about feasts and banquets and wanting to take every emotion the girl could give me . . .
I’m everything I never wanted to be.
I spot Nuri among the crowd, panting heavily, staring at me like she’s never seen me before. I spin away from her, suddenly terrified of the expression on her face, terrified of what I’m going to see on other people’s faces, because they saw what I did, they know what I am, and the girl . . .
The girl I channelled from is screaming and screaming at a fresh black x on her forearm.
Oh no. Oh no.
‘What did you do to me?’ she wails. ‘What did you do?’
Her lashes are drenched with tears. I don’t want to look at her. I don’t want to look at it, that thing I’ve given her, but I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know I needed to stop, there was no warning –
She grips my forearms. ‘What did you do? Tell me!’
I shake my head, but the moment my gaze accidentally meets hers, I know what her hex is, like I’m connected to her via the hexmark.
She’ll never sing in tune again.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper.
Was her voice important to her? Or, like Damian claims, will this be a gift in disguise? Maybe she doesn’t like performing. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to ask. I can’t tell her. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I had to save . . .’
Astin.
I don’t need to turn to know he’s behind me. As always, I’m attuned to the way he steps, the way his body feels when it’s close to mine.
Unlike all the times that came before though, I wish he wasn’t anywhere near.
Dread grips my throat.
He brushes straight past me to take the girl’s arm in his hand, rolling it from side to side, examining her brand-new hexmark as horror dawns in his eyes.
I remember how he looked at me when we were under the influence of the lust powder.
Like I was a goddess splayed on the ground before him; something to be worshipped, revered.
The way he touched me as though I were something precious.
The feel of his mouth against my neck, my ear, his breath hot as he murmured my name.
My heart splits in two when I realise he’ll never look at me like that again.
When our stares collide, his blue eyes are no longer powder soft, but as hard as sapphires.
‘You’re a Souleater,’ he whispers, like if he says it quietly it won’t be true. ‘You’re one of them.’