by Lucy Auburn
"You've tried," I point out calmly. "And calling me a bitch, really? Solidarity among women is dead I guess. Next time, if you're gonna go there, at least try an insult that cuts."
Stepping forward, I gather more force field in my palm, revving up for another blast at the ground—this time, one that will create a pit deep enough that she won't be able to stop herself from falling in it. After that, I'm not sure what we'll do, but immortality has to have its limits. And at least she'll be very, very far away from us.
The woman wearing Vervaine's face looks up at me—and smiles in the most unsettling way. Splaying her fingers out on the tile floor, she flutters her eyes closed and does something.
Apparently she still has a trick or two up her sleeve. But I don't feel anything at all—no confusion or illusions or even a burp gathering inside of me.
Until Levi rips his hand from mine and turns on me with an angry snarl. Confused, I watch through Killer's eyes as he holds his hand up—and uses his poison on me.
He's not alone.
Mason draws a knife and advances on me with it.
Wyatt pushes away from the wall and cracks his knuckles, staring me down with intense anger.
Grayson pulls the sword from his cane and uses his powers to crawl inside my mind, his touch like spider legs racing up my spine.
As I step back from them, Killer at my side and Penny hissing behind me, Cleopatra looks up at me and smirks.
"Not so strong without your little errand boys, are you, Ellen?"
Then the men I care about, who have brought me through so much and comforted me endlessly, turn on me and attack with all their strength.
Chapter 13
I have to duck Wyatt's fist fast. The strength he aims at me is like nothing I've seen before before, despite the wounds he's sporting and the energy our enemies have drained from his strong body. He has a look on his face that isn't gentle or kind at all—nothing like the loving expression I'm used to seeing in those warm brown eyes. It's enough to make me despair even as I try to figure out how to fight this next battle.
Weaving away, I desperately try to use Killer's eyes to see what's going on around me, but the dog is scared and confused, his vision coming from the wrong angle entirely. Without the right vantage point, I can't get out of the way of Wyatt's next strike. I manage to dodge part of it, but even the glancing blow of his knuckles off the side of my face is enough to temporarily stun me.
It takes me a few seconds to regain my footing and figure out my surroundings. By the time I do, Levi's poison has turned my veins to sluggish mud. Frantic, I grasp my forearms and push my force field out just like I did in the arena that time we fought, ridding myself of the stuff.
Raising my hands with power still gathered in them, I throw my force field out in a curve and push the guys clear across the room, ignoring the twinge of guilt as I hear them hit the far wall. I can at least feel my surroundings through the force field a bit, sensing the surfaces all around me; they're on the defense now, standing up and dusting themselves off.
I can fight them off like this a dozen times over. But it's only a matter of time before the four of them overwhelm me—I can still sense Grayson's tingling influence crawling up my spine, and hear Wyatt crack his knuckles for another round. Killer's eyes are useless; my poor stray dog has been through too much today, and he's cowering in fear behind me, not looking at the guys at all, confused about his lovable big guys hitting his girl. Penny is raring to go, but I urge her not to as I tap into her senses, knowing that a single punch from a highjacked Wyatt would turn her into a pancake kitty.
There has to be some way to break the hold Cleopatra has on their minds.
Even now, she's scrambling to try to push herself out of the hole, clawing at the ground in search of purchase. If I don't move fast and knock her down she'll escape—but I can't do that with my four Conduits standing in my way.
At least Mason's powers will be useless on me, blind as I am.
That's what I think—until I hear the sound of a familiar voice beside me, an illusion all its own.
"Ellen." My mother sounds loving and warm; her fingers feel real as they brush against my skin, pushing my hair behind my ear and cupping my cheek gently. "What are you doing? Give up this useless fight. Come home with me. You shouldn't be here anymore."
She's so real that I almost believe it's her. Just because I can't see her now doesn't mean that she's not standing next to me. But I've summoned her spirit. I know she died that night when Brutus attacked. I can't let myself fall for the lie, even though it comes from deep within me, formed by my own emotions and desires.
"My darling." Her voice is so close, so real, that it gives me chills. "Come with me, now. Before it's too late."
It takes all my strength to tell her, "No." And even more strength to clench my jaw and force her from my mind, reminding myself starkly of the world in front of me by looking around through Penny's eyes.
I'm all alone in this room, with nothing but my powers, against an enemy who has turned my only allies against me. It's going to take everything I've got to get out of this. Reaching down to Killer, I put my hand on his back and coax the fear out of him, urging him to rally, to fight—and to give me his eyes, his teeth, and his strength.
The dog has been through so much. But he's gotten stronger, and with a little bit of encouragement, he rallies for a fight. Advancing on Levi, he peels his lips back from his teeth and snarls at him.
That just leaves Penny as my eyes, at least until my Conduits wake up from this nightmare. Throwing out my force field to push them back again—it's only going to work so many times—I bend down, pick Penny up, and put her on my shoulders. It takes her a moment to balance, but as she wraps herself around my neck, claws pricking my skin, my fast thinking gives me eyesight from my vantage point so I can plan my next move.
Cleopatra has almost escaped from the hole. That can't be allowed, so I focus on her, gathering power in my palms and push it out to knock her down the hole again. She manages to grab onto the lip instead of falling completely, the sound of her anger a screech in the air, but it buys me enough time to face my guys.
Except my moment of distraction gave Grayson the chance to push through my mental barriers and into my head completely. I can feel him in there, just like it was in the arena, when we were enemies what feels like so long ago. His touch is a whisper at first, then a clawing, scraping violation that dives into my mind to pull at every secret, fear, and shameful memory.
The knife plunging into Jack's body again and again.
His eyes, so dead, no longer loving.
My mother's eyes, just as dead, and the thought that came first: that this was karma. I took a life. The world took from me in return.
Every one of my most painful fears and secrets is jerked out of me. The thought that my father, the killer Vincent Arizona, had terrible violence deep inside him that he passed onto me. My fear that the darkness of my blindness will one day be permanent, and I'll never see again, through another's eyes or my own. The rage I feel at my mother's killer—and the sickening doubt that I'm any different, given the lives I've taken myself.
They deserved it—though who am I to say. Every killer thinks a life taken is a life that no longer deserved to live. The touch inside my mind makes me afraid that I'm just the same.
Over and over the loop of fears and trauma plays until—
Sharp, curved claws dig into my skin, and I hiss in pain, scowling as Penny draws blood. Just in time, my mind becomes my own again, for long enough that I'm able to throw my force field at Wyatt, who was just about to punch me hard enough to no doubt end this battle completely. As he's thrown against the wall and groans in pain, it hurts me like a fist to the middle, but at least he's still alive—and so am I.
Think Ellen, think.
The momentary distraction drew Grayson out of my mind, but he's strong. Just like my weakness is a mirror of my strength, so is his. He may live with constant pain in his leg
and addiction inside him, but he also has so much power to go with it—power that will destroy me from the inside out unless I think of something.
When he was last in my mind, it was my Spiritual Affinity that took him out. I summoned his dead family, and he was so distracted by it that I was able to defeat him. The same trick may not work this time; they moved on to their own peaceful afterlife the last time we spoke to them. But I can still distract him with the one thing that overwhelms his Mental Affinity—his own emotions, which he so often hides from.
As he dives into my mind to distract, control, and torture me, I swerve his direction instead of pushing him out entirely. He's pushing to see all the terrible things, the things that make me want to scream and cry. Instead I show Grayson him.
The moment I saw him enter the mausoleum with the cane in his hand, brutal and cold, so distant—and different now that I've seen him a dozen times.
When he broke down and admitted his deepest secret of addiction, and the fear that lives beside it: that one day he might become addicted to me.
His bravery and strength in the face of unending pain and adversity.
The way a single kiss from his lips took the breath from me, made me clutch onto him and hang on tight.
How different his face looks without pain. Without the arrogance he uses to cover the pain, and the shame that comes with it. I could watch the pain melt from his expression a thousand times—the only thing is, I hate the moment that must follow the ending of the pain, when our hands part and it crashes back over him like a wave.
It's only a mere span of seconds in the real world, but in my mind, the things I show Grayson seem to stretch forever. We've barely known each other, when you get down to measuring our time together against the span of our lives, but he's made an impact in me that I can't begin to describe. Without him I'm not sure I would be confident enough to consider living with what I now have: blindness. But I've seen strength in him, and it makes me believe that I have it in myself as well.
I try to show him that. It's tough, but despite how scared I am—despite how much the angry men all around me remind me of those terrible moments with Jack—I open myself up. I let Grayson in. I show him how I see him.
I feel it as his mind shifts along with mine.
As he wakes up.
Sees what he's done—what they've all done.
And breaks himself free.
Just in time, too. While Grayson was rummaging around in my head, Wyatt picked himself up off the ground again and is coming for me. Using Penny's eyes and my own ears, which seem to pick up more than normal, I dance away from the first swing of his fist—but I know the second is coming.
"Get off me!" Levi kicks Killer, and I wince at the sound of the dog's betrayed yelp. "I have to do this. I have to kill her."
He aims a poison-filled hand at me.
All around me, I hear my dead mother's voice, feel the brush of her breath against my skin.
Wyatt cracks his knuckles and prepares another brutal attack. This time, I have nowhere left to go—I've backed up as far as I can. When I reach for my force field, I find it diminished, my powers weakened without the touch of my Conduits, after such a long day and so much heavy use.
Back to the wall, I slide along it, Penny's claws pricking into my skin, her fur puffed up in fear against my neck.
"No." The voice is Grayson's, firm and fully awake. He hasn't just pulled out of my head—he's pulled away from Cleopatra's influence too. "Stop. Put your fist down. You—apologize to the dog for kicking him."
In a robotic voice, Levi says, "Sorry, Killer."
"Now, get over here, all three of you. It's time to knock some sense into those heads."
Limping over to me, Killer huddles against the wall, and I pet him until he stops trembling. All around me, the guys are giving up their attacks and heading towards Grayson. And while he looks like it's taking all his effort to get them to obey—the clenched line of his jaw and deep furrow of his brow says as much—he's somehow pulled them off me.
In a tight voice, he says, "Ellen, now would be a good time to wake them up like you woke me up."
"How?" I approach with Killer at my side and Penny around my neck, mentally promising them plenty of steak and lobster once this is all over. "I don't even know how I woke you up, Grayson. I just did the only thing that I thought I could."
"I don't know, Ellen. Try holding their hands. Or jerking them off for all I care. Just do it quick, because I can't hold three wills all at once for much longer."
He can't. Levi's hands are twitching as he fights the reins; Wyatt looks weakened enough to obey, but Mason's eyes are full of thoughts. The rage and anger Cleopatra put in their heads has made them murderous towards me, and they're not going to forget it easily.
I have to try something, though.
We're still connected, after all. No matter what, that's true.
"Maybe if I take their hands..."
When I reach for Levi's hand I feel a stirring as our fingers fold together, staring at him through my own eyes again, but Grayson shakes his head, mouth grim. "She's still got a hold on him. I can feel it. And she's figuring a way out of that hole you pushed her down into—we don't have long. Find another way."
I hold back on my frustration, knowing that it won't help. He needs me to figure something out, not snap at him because he's frustrated and overwhelmed. Since grabbing onto the guys' hands won't yank them away from Cleopatra's influence, I decide to make myself useful and grab Grayson's hand, squeezing his palm as our connection melts the pain away from his face and my blindness turns into sight again.
Looking at him, I feel helpless to stop what's coming. The only way out of this is to act fast. So I make a quick decision, and before I can overthink things or something changes, I pull my dad's ridiculously decorative dagger out of my pocket and balance it for a throw. Hissing, Penny leaps off my shoulders and skitters across the room, swiping at the hole ineffectually. I feel her anger, as well as Killer's fear and anxiety, equal to mine.
One chance. A single opportunity. Cleopatra is scrambling up and out of the hole, her head bobbing out...
There. Her shoulders rise above the edge of the hole, and I spot my chance. Moving my hand back, bending my wrist, and planting my feet, I aim at her chest and throw the dagger.
It sinks into her chest, pushing her back from the edge of the hole. She scrambles to pull herself up, snarling as she grabs onto the dagger's handle and yanks it out. The blade spins across the floor, smearing it with blood, and she struggles in the slickness.
Walking towards her, I pull Grayson behind me and stomp on her fingers—hard. Her eyes stare up at me in hatred as she pushes back the pain, so I stomp on her again, until I hear bones break. She somehow still holds on, the old fiend.
"Ellen, they're still under her influence—"
"Hold on." Smiling down at Cleopatra, I kick her right in the chest, the toe of my boot connecting with her bloodied flesh. Blanching, she lets go—and falls into the hole completely. "Let me just figure out how to close this..."
Looking around the room, I spot the bookshelf we pushed aside to enter. A quick pulse from my force field topples it over to cover the hole, sealing her down in the darkness, hopefully far enough away that she won't be able to use her powers anymore. Then, for quick measure, I sweep the dagger up off the ground, frowning as I spot a piece missing from its handle.
Grayson says grimly, "That didn't work. There's still something in their minds, I can feel it. Like... like an infection." He clenches his jaw. "Don't let go of my hand. At this point, our connection is the only thing giving me the power to hold them in line. And it won't last much longer at all."
"We'll figure something out," I promise him, tugging his hand so I can reach for the shiny, metallic object sitting in a smear of blood that somehow broke off my dad's dagger. "Help me grab this."
Tucking the dagger into my jacket, I step with Grayson across the room and kneel down towards the floor
. I wince as Levi, only half-frozen, turns towards me and pushes a hint of poison into my veins. Grabbing the thing—it's some kind of silvery necklace with a large pendant—I pull away from Levi and let Grayson pull me towards him, staring at the other three Conduits.
Wyatt is tugging at the reins inside his mind, almost to the point of breaking free.
Though he's barely moving, I can see that Mason's mind is working over time.
And Levi's eyes have tracked my movements across the room, his wrist slowly moving towards me, trying to attack me with more poison.
"Freeze," Grayson says, his voice coming out low and angry, his fingers tightly woven with mine. "Don't. Fucking. Move. Leave her alone!"
"It's okay," I tell him, trying to calm myself as I observe the thing that dropped out of my father's necklace. "This is one of those... what do they call them?"
"Does it matter now?" Grayson flicks his eyes over to the pendant sitting in the middle of my palm."It's a pentagram. You've probably seen it in a hundred movies and TV shows about witches and demons."
"It has five points," I observe, my mind doing strange things. Pacing over towards me, Penny stretches up and bats at my hand, her blue eyes staring at the trailing silver chain attached to the necklace. "Five points on the star, and five little symbols... and a circle around all of it... wait!"
The five symbols click all at once: I've seen them before, at least four of them. One for each of the four Classes: Mental, Emotional, Spiritual, and Physical. The final symbol must be for people like me—those with multiple powers. Together, they represent the five interconnected points of the pentagram.
"Help me get inside their minds," I tell Grayson, urging him with a squeeze to his hand. "Do it fast. We all have to get together and touch each other too, so bring them over here."
"Are you mad? Ellen, they want to kill you."
"Do it now while you still have the chance."