Page 59 of Of Flame and Fury
Great. Now everyone is looking at me. I take a moment to wonder how things are getting suckingly worse. But then I continue forward. Onward and upward, I suppose.
The feel of Johnny returns to me, as does the sense of the shifters. I close my eyes as a vision clouds my mind. It’s odd. It’s not like any vision I’ve experienced in the past, those where I’m dropped in the middle of a nightmarish scenario that I can’t wake from.
From above, as if I’m flying, I see two rivers running parallel. They don’t flow in the same direction as I’d expect, but rather, opposite. I try to adjust my position to see where they end and if they ever join farther down. From what I can tell, they continue independently.
“Johnny isn’t a shifter,” I say, interpreting what I feel. I peer closer when the vision reappears. It’s not as clear, yet I see enough. The rivers continue to run opposite each other, but now they’re slightly wider than before. It won’t be long before they join. I groan when reality smacks me hard on the ass once I figure it out. “But he’s close to becoming one.”
“How can you possibly know?” Uri asks.
I motion to my arm, not bothering to mention my past experience with visions. “I guess she’s showing me.”
That’s not a lie. My old magic and new magic are still trying to figure it all out. Personally, I like Sparky’s visions over the freaky ones I receive that usually involve death and mayhem. I ponder what I saw further, picking apart what I felt. “I think it’s why Johnny’s magic felt familiar yet, in a way, alien. It’s morphing into something preeminent.”
The air leaves the room, despite how I tried to relay the information in a casual tone. Yeah… Not everyone had figured that little tidbit out.
“If it’s alien, as you describe, then he must already be as you fear,” Uri states, gnashing his fangs.
“No,” Gemini states, backing me up. “If Fate was already a shifter, he would have presented himself just to rub it in our faces.”
“And he wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble of sending his Nytes ahead of time,” I add. I start pacing, needing to move, but think better of it when I see what appears to be a kneecap blocking my path.
“Johnny has spent a lot of time and energy ironing out the details of his plan,” I remind everyone. “He wouldn’t need these numbers as a shifter. As a Fate and a shifter, he’d only need himself.”
“Agreed,” Misha says. “He’d also need to demonstrate his worth alone.”
“Perhaps,” Ileana muses. “But how do you explain such a shifter presence and the Fate’s increase in magic?” She wraps her arms around Misha, lowering her lashes. She’s asking him for sex, needing to satiate the adrenaline she experienced in battle.
Misha turns from her focus, his brilliant mind contemplating something, not that he appears eager to share.
“What is it, Misha?” Emme asks.
Of all people, it’s Gemini and me he focuses on. “My belief is he’s drinking the blood of his new masters. That’s why we feel their presence. Magic runs thick through their blood.”
“Shifter blood?” I clarify. At his nod, I shake my head. “All he’s doing is drinking poison.”
“It’s poison to us, Taran,” Gemini adds. He places his arm around me, feeling protective. “Not to someone with magic a Fate possesses.”
Ileana cozies up further to Misha, her taut nipple trailing lightly over his muscular arm. C’mon, can’t this wait? We’re right here.
Again, Misha ignores her, speaking only to us. “Fates are rare entities, a higher and more advanced form of witch. If anyone can tolerate shifter blood, it’s a Fate.”
I swallow hard. “If that’s true, it’ll nourish him and maintain his strength and abilities despite the damage we inflict.”
Gemini is seconds from raging. Somehow, he keeps it together. “Shifter blood will help nourish him. But while he has the shifters, we have Destiny. It’s still possible to harm him.”
I glance at Destiny, who still appears well into dreamland. “But can we kill him?” I ask.
“As long as he’s tolerating the blood, not yet,” Misha states.
Emme looks close to tears. Like the rest of us, she’s well past exhaustion. Yet there’s no time for rest. Not now.
“Johnny drinking shifter blood is still not as bad as becoming a shifter himself,” I stress. “Look at how many people he allowed to die at his concert. If he had already sworn his allegiance to the shifters back then, he could have easily dedicated their deaths to their deity.” My focus travels to the carnage permeating through the manor like fresh coats of paint. “Tonight, he added the elite of the mystical world to his body count.”
“Mother of all gods,” Uri snarls. He kicks the kneecap on the ground. “If he succeeds, he’ll be unstoppable.”
The impact of what we’re facing silences everyone. I don’t want to be right about someone I once pitied and called a friend. It’s wickedly wrong. It’s also genius.
Why wouldn’t Johnny gobble down shifter blood if it will help him? Why wouldn’t he take the next step into shifterhood? His new buddies likely seduced him with thoughts of immortality and magic unlike the world has ever seen and played on his fears of being harmed. Like Uri deduced, who could take on a Fate with the diadem of a shifter? Not a were. Not a vamp. Not…holy shit. Could Johnny be the new evil that’s rising? The one Celia’s baby is supposed to save the world from?