Page 30 of Of Flame and Fury

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Page 30 of Of Flame and Fury

I slam my foot down, sealing us in. The hearth explodes, granite and mortar striking the circle as blue and white light fires from the base.

My circle holds, protecting us from the debris, except we don’t leave.

A Nyte made of dark coal crawls from the ruins of the hearth. Three head witches lift their staffs and fire curses. The spells combine and strike the Nyte in the center of the chest. Lava spews from the hole, igniting the witches and several vampires.

Bren’s hands slap against his sides. “Fuck me,” he mumbles.

The smoke clears alarmingly fast, unveiling the vampires reduced to mounds of ash. The witches are now mere statues of coal. They crumble as the lava creature moves forward, his heavy steps shaking the floor.

Celia presses her hands against the ward protecting us. “Aric, get out of here.”

He shakes his head, not bothering to turn to look at her. “Not until you’re gone.”

More lava spills from the hole in the Nyte’s chest, sliding along the floor but not penetrating. Whatever this is appears to choose what will burn and what won’t.

The lava pools around my circle, poking at my magic and trying to find a weakness.

The action makes me lose my mind. I’m many things. Weak is not one of them.

My right arm flares in challenge, and I feel my irises turn white.

“Oh, shit,” Bren mumbles.

He and the wolves back away, and they should. “Fire,” I rasp. “Give me fire.”

I shove my fist out as a torrent of magic, fire, and lightning releases. It flings the creature out and through the window, it’s glowing body landing with a thud near the lake.

The force of my strike pushes me back. I land on concrete, rolling. Emme lands next to me. Shayna is more graceful and settles on her feet.

It doesn’t compare to Celia’s entrance. She flips, landing in a crouch.

The scent of rosemary and water fills my nose. Thousands of plants spread out around us. Through the glass ceiling, thick clouds pass, shadowing the moon.

“We’re in a greenhouse,” Celia says. She rises slowly, her tigress eyes scanning for trouble.

I ease up, helping Emme, who likely would have remained on the floor if I let her. I’m livid. “How the hell did we end up here?”

Shayna pulls the sword from its sheath. “Beats me, T,” she says. “We were supposed to end up at the boathouse.”

“I know,” I agree. I dust myself off. It’s a ridiculous gesture. God only knows what body fluid I’m not covered with.

“Um. Is it possible you messed up the spell?” Emme asks.

She’s trying her best not to accuse me of any wrongdoing. It doesn’t bother me either way. I could have screwed this whole gig up, but I didn’t.

“No,” I reply. I face my sisters. “We were supposed to take a boat and cross the lake to meet Makawee, Martin, Danny, and Heidi if we were in trouble.”

My sisters exchange glances, confused as to where I’m headed. “Yes,” Celia says slowly. “That was the plan.”

“But what if they’re the ones in trouble?” I ask.

Doubt further plagues their features. “Hear me out,” I say. “I asked for peace and safe passage, you heard me, right?”

Shayna twirls her sword, trying to stay loose. “Between the swears and stuff? Sure, dude.”

I ignore the comment. When the smoke started lassoing the guests, a lot of creative words gushed out of my mouth that had zero to do with the spell.

“Genevieve helped me develop the spell so we’d end up at the boathouse,” I remind them. “Who knows where we would have landed if it was solely up to me. Spells are hard. There’s lots of chanting, getting naked, and…” My voice trails when they look at me. “Let’s just say witch school scarred me almost as badly as nursing school. I still have nightmares about attending both.”




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