Page 21 of Of Flame and Fury
His growls abruptly cut off. At least, I think. It’s hard to make out anything through the commotion.
My breath catches when he answers me in his human voice. It’s faint, but his words hit me harder than the pieces of ceiling crumbling down. “Help Emme. It has her.”
Itcould be that thing that made bloody puddles out of the witches.Itcould be like that thing with snakes for hair.Itcould be that slithering creature in the ventilation system.Itcould be anything, and I can’t see it!
“It has Emme,” I yell.
A vampire, this one a master, glances down. “Who is Emme?” he asks. His head jerks when one scream follows a furious roar and pieces of organs spew into the foyer. Another witch down, and now awere.
The vampire hisses, his claws and fangs lengthening. “My sister,” I stammer, hoping he’s still listening. “Tell theweres. They have to know.”
I don’t wait to see if he does what I ask. I forge ahead, cringing when something slams farther away from where I last heard Bren. The foyer is almost as massive as the ballroom, wide as it is long. With all these beings, it’s damn near suffocating. I use Sparky like a shield and ram forward, at last falling through the archway and into the ballroom.
The air is different here, cleaner, pure. There’s no dust, no cacophony of sound. The tension and confusion linger, but aside from a few hushed mumbles, quiet greets me. The abrupt change is jarring, and it takes me a second to clear my head.
I glance behind me. There must be an invisible wall of sorts muffling the pandemonium in the foyer. By the feel of it, there’s also another spell, one that makes those close to the entrance look away. The British vampire stands by a table overflowing with food. He lifts a prawn, studying it closely before he’s satisfied enough to have a taste. He forgot all about us, the magic weaving through the room blinding everyone to the danger.
The same spell trickles through my nose when I inhale, making me want to forget the others. I ram my eyes shut, compelling my power to break through it. I’ll be damned if I’ll let another stupid spell keep me from helping Emme and Bren.
With a pop and a painful sneeze, the spell breaks. I startle at the crowd that gathered at my arrival. They tilt their heads, seemingly confused when they see the other guests in the foyer facing one way and appearing ready to maul.
They inch forward, and a vamp helps me to my feet as I work through how to clear this numbing spell.
“Karen,” Uri calls. He’s exactly where I left him by the fireplace. Ileana is with him too. I suppose she didn’t like Celia’s arrival robbing her of Misha’s attention.
“Karen,” Uri calls again. He snaps his fingers in my direction. I didn’t realize he was talking to me, and he seems annoyed I’m not immediately racing to his side. “What is happening out there? Is your sister going to honor us with her presence or not?”
“It’sTaran, moron, and she’s a little busy trying not to die right now.”
Indignation spreads across Uri’s features. Kind of like when you smack a cat on its nose for trying to claw your face off. I should know better than to insult a vamp of his caliber, but I’ll deal with his cape-loving ass later.
“C’mon, Sparky,” I mutter. “Let’s take this spell down.”
I release a breath slowly, an exceptionally hard task given how my heartbeat is trying to rip through my ribcage. Within my cupped hands, a spark appears, crackling and creating the one sole light in the dim surroundings.
A sheer ball of blue and white mist builds from the spark, circling and widening with each pass.
“Show me,” I whisper against it.
I grin when it bounces and sparkles in my palms; it’s listening. I almost lose my focus when something rams the ceiling and my little sister screams in terror.
My voice shakes, and it costs me effort not to lose my concentration. “Let me see,” I say, putting more force into the spell. “Let me know.”
My magic obeys, my spinning crystalline globe enlarging and strengthening with each pass. I pull from the magic circling between the werebeasts who edge closer and the spaces amid the vamps who’ve never experienced magic like this. I pull from the empty pockets of space among the witches who scoff and chastise me for using magic instead of cultivating it.
Well, I’m weird for a reason. I wasn’t born a witch. I was born with fire and flame deep within me. This magic I wouldn’t have without borrowing it from the earth. And don’t I take my lion’s share now.
I bite through my words, the raw power within me ready to blow. “Show us. Let us see. Let us know.”
The globe I create is pretty at first, appearing gentle. “Oohs and aahs,” release, as if I’m putting on a show. But as my magic mixes with Sparky’s, and Bren’s growls turn more pained, my sweet little incantation becomes something more, scarier, potent, and exactly what I need.
“Karen! What are you doing?” a cheetah I don’t know asks me.
“What is happening?” Uri demands.
“It’s Karen, Master,” a vampire says. “She’s turned against us.”
Ileana glances at Uri, takes a sip of her champagne, and bats her hand in my direction as if she can’t be bothered. “Kill her,” she orders. Her accent is thick and lovely despite ugly words. “She’s clearly the unstable one of the family.”