The fingers on my right hand start to tingle with power. I step over to him, trying to put my hands on him to zap him, but he quickly rolls away before I’m able to get close enough.
I hold my usable hand out to my side, palm facing skyward as mini bolts of lightning disperse from it. “Hmm, looks like the little girl knows what she’s doing after all,” I say to him slyly.
His upper lip curls into a snarl and water forms a square around our position, continuing to rise higher and higher until it locks both of us inside. Lincoln did something like this a few days ago. I never did find a way out of it. He filled the box with water and nearly drowned me just to prove a point. After criticizing my failure, he said that sometimes it’s not about protecting yourself during an attack. That sometimes protecting yourself means you must attack. It’ll draw their attention away from what your opponent is doing and might give you enough time to get out of whatever mess you’re in.
I picture the lightning coming from the palm of my hand, striking Elijah forcefully in the chest. I push my palm in front of me and a bolt shoots out with a massive amount of energy behind it. He takes a large step to the side, easily dodging it. That stupid smirk is still on his face and it’s really starting to piss me off. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. What was I thinking? Never think small when you can think big!
With a cock of my head, I focus on the task in front of me. The lightning bolt strikes the wall of water behind him, vaporizing it on contact. Within the small swells – right before they disappear – you can faintly see the arcing electricity as the current travels within. And then it’s completely gone.
Water conducts electricity. Maybe Seraphina threw me a bone after all. Maybe I can use his own ability against him.
His smug smile matches that of mine. Why would he be happy about my epiphany? My shoulders sag as a new wall builds. A wall of ice.
Gliding my fingertips over the silky cold ice, I try and analyze it. Does ice conduct electricity as well as water does?
“Surprise, surprise.” He must have seen the confusion on my face and now he’s screwing with me. Lincoln never told me that a water elemental could manifest ice as well. Seraphina said as much, that growing up in Pensatore means that he doesn’t know everything.
Thinking big, I rain down a torrent of lightning from the sky, willing it to smash into my icy prison. Despite the power within the bolt, only a single crack surfaces. I throw more power into the wall. Bolt after bolt crashes into the ceiling of the cube, slamming into it until the ice melts and water rains down on us until my hair is damp from the fine mist. The four walls around us still stand, but now my power has a way inside. An open path directly to Elijah.
He dives for the ground, somehow managing to dodge each bolt. It doesn’t matter though. The lightning is intended to distract him, not hurt him, and it’s are accomplishing exactly what I need it to do. The heat in the confined space builds with each bolt that slams down. The ice slowly but surely starts to sweat but refuses to return back to its liquid state. A large crack forms on the wall across from me, seemingly the weakest spot in the cube. I make my move.
Encouraged by my progress, I slam the entire force of my assault into that one wall. Crack after crack appears. As soon as my onslaught is over, the smile on my face disappears. The cracks fill themselves back in and Elijah is back on his feet, smirking yet again.
A wave of cold hits me, freezing the sweat covering me. He’s so much faster with his magic than Lincoln is. Maybe Lincoln holds back on purpose because I’m still in training, maybe he doesn’t. The man in front of me doesn’t care that I’m still in training. He doesn’t care that I’m not as fast as him. I barely have time to process what is happening before he changes it again. I’m a mile behind him and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to catch up.
My teeth chatter. My nose, fingers, and toes are now numb. Thunder rips through the stadium as I bring forth more power. All of my focus, all of my magic pulse power directly into one specific wall. And then Boom! Massive blocks of ice shower down upon me as my prison finally crumbles. My right arm reaches above my head as I try to shield myself from the havoc. But my moment of triumph only lasts a second or two.
The ice begins at my toes, traveling upwards toward my knees, my hips, my chest. Once again, there’s barely enough time to register what he’s doing before it’s already done. I take in my last breath as the ice forms over my face.
I’m trapped; unable to move, unable to breath. Encased. Frozen.
The weight of the ice makes me cringe in pain. My arms throb. My vision is clouded with big black spots from the lack of oxygen in my body. I can hear Elijah’s deep baritone voice but I don’t care enough about what he’s saying to try to decipher the words.
The anger in me builds. The refusal to ever be a victim rises to the surface. I’ve never been a victim. I’ve never allowed any to have that kind of power over me. So many people entered my life under the claim of being my new parents. Each one had been more terrible than the last. To every one of them I had been nothing more than a paycheck. They didn’t care about me. They didn’t care if I my clothes were too small or if I had a meal that day or even a bed to sleep in. They all put on this show for the caseworkers, but as soon as the door closed they changed. I changed. I couldn’t have been more than eight years old when I stopped caring what others thought. I took care of myself in any way I could. If violence solved my problem, then I used it. If pure stubbornness was needed, then I used it.
Right now is no different. I will not be his victim. I will not be weak.
With a Hail Mary silent scream, I release the pressure building within me. I force all the power I can muster into a single bolt. A single bolt that crashes from the wisps over my head, screeches through the air, and crashes into the very ice I’m captured in.
It hits with so much force and heat that the entire structure crumbles. The only shards that remain are so small they quickly melt and evaporate. The lightning pounds into my chest; the electricity’s so intense that my feet lift from the ground. My arms stretch far out to my sides as I absorb the power back into myself. I can’t even scream as the bone in my arm snaps back into place. With the amount of magic forcing its way through my veins, my breath is ripped from me, making it feel like I’m underwater.
A blast of frigid water strikes me hard in the chest, forcing my body out of the grasp of electricity, pushing me through the air until my back slams brutally into the stone wall surrounding the arena floor.
The audience is cheering and celebrating when I wake up. How long was I unconscious for? Elijah stands in the middle of the arena, his arms held high in the air as he revels in his victory.
I slowly rise up, spitting out a mouthful of blood.
My powers hum within me, the current circulating beneath the surface, waiting to be used. “Is that the best you got?” I scream, my voice echoing off the thick stone walls.
He turns to face me, unable to keep his eyes from going wide. The tingling sensation covers every inch of me. My eyes burn from my electricity. I don’t know what happened to me while being frozen alive, but something feels different. It’s as though the magic is alive now, as if it’s really a part of me. A very strong part of me. Stronger than it should be.
And that’s what scares me.
Sparks flutter in every direction, dripping from my very skin.
“You sure you want to go for round two?” he asks.
This time I don’t have to focus. I don’t have to draw a picture in my mind. My magic simply reacts as though it can read my thoughts before they are even fully developed. Streaks of lightning unite in the sky. Blinding white flashes appear as thunder cracks through the air loud enough to vibrate the arena floor. Zigzagging through the sky, the lightning slams into my chest again.
Heat encompasses my body and I’m absorbed in the warmth of my magic. The hum of power is all I hear. The inside of the lightning smells like a spring afternoon after a heavy rain. The bright glow is blinding
, but more like millions of sparkles. It makes me think of the way I always imagined sunlight glistening off of freshly fallen snow. I can feel the bolt of lightning sucking the magical energy out of me, but for as much as the lightning takes from me, it gives more back in return. It makes me feel stronger. The bumps and bruises covering my body fade, leaving my skin as soft and smooth as it was when I was a child.
I land solidly on my feet, inches away from Elijah. His eyes go wide, his lips part ever so slightly. Without hesitation, my right hand balls into a fist and smashes into his nose, causing him to stumble back several steps.
I charge him and we both hit the ground. We tussle for only a moment until I’m able to straddle his chest, using my knees to pin his hands. Bright red blood covers the lower portion of his face from the damage I caused when I hit him.
I wasn’t allowed to bring weapons into the arena seeing as this is supposed to be a display of magic, but I don’t let that keep me from winning. My magic, knowing me better than I know it, forms in my palm. The lightning welds together, forming a dagger-like shape. It sizzles and hisses, filling the air with a burning hair odor as it burns a few whiskers off of Elijah’s neck. “Yield,” I hiss at him.
His adam’s apple bobs several times, coming from close to being burned from my dagger. “Yield,” I tell him again. His upper lip curls into a snarl. His eyes dart left and right as though trying to think of a way out of the situation. He stares up at me, something shining in his eyes that I haven’t seen from him before – his approval. Unable to stretch out his arm, he taps my knee twice instead.
16
EMMY
The entire stadium stares silently towards the arena floor. To where my sister presses a blade of lightning against the throat of a Reaper. The warlock – Elijah – taps on Vi’s leg, signaling that the duel is over. She rises to her feet, staring down at him. Violet has always been strong, sometimes too much so, but this is different. The way she stands over him is different. Her shoulders sag and her attention goes to the stands. Her lips part, her chest rising and falling dramatically like she’s panting and fighting to catch her breath. And then she runs. She runs straight for the closest exit, disappearing into the shadows within the stadium.
“Violet,” I whisper under my breath. “I have to go,” I say to Ollie who stands right next to me. He simply nods at me, not making any attempt at getting me to stay.
By the time I reach the end of the row of seats, soldiers of different shapes and sizes, armed with various weapons are already filtering out into the main aisle as if sensing that Violet’s victory was the end of the fun. Whispers of her being an elemental of Pensatore reached me. They praised her, not only for being so new to the world of magic, but for defeating the undefeatable. I dart through them hectically, my small stature making it easy for me to slide between the mass of soldiers all trying to get out of the arena.
I haven’t been training in magic the way Violet has, but she’s been telling me about the things she learns and the critiques that Lincoln gives her. Apart from what she’s told me, I know nothing about how to use magic. But even I know that something happened to her in that arena. Something snapped in her. By the way she ran out of the stadium, it couldn’t have been a good reaction.
The streets are filled with only women and their children, most of the men are soldiers and had been at the duels. My lungs burn but I keep running back towards the house. Not having anywhere else to hide, Violet surely would have gone there.
Adam, our night guard, stands next to the front door, his feet shoulder width apart and his hand resting on the pommel of his sword that sways from his hip. I barely know him but have seen him more times than I can count. He’s one of the two guards that share the task of watching over the house day and night. He’s quiet. When I say hello to him he never replies, but will simply nod his head in acknowledgement.
“Move,” a male voice says. I don’t have to see him from the front to know that it’s Lincoln. All three of the brothers have this authoritative aura about them. Ben wears his sword on his hip, Lincoln carries one down the middle of his spine, and Kaleb has dual swords that form an X across his back.
“Lincoln? What’s going on? Is she here?”
He twirls around to face me. “Yes. Apparently she told Adam not to let anyone in the house.” He walks up to me, shoving his hair out of his eyes.
“What happened?” I ask him, still trying to catch my breath.
“She accepted her powers. I knew she was strong, but I didn’t know it was like that.”
I shrug, not knowing what he’s talking about. “What does that mean?”
“It means that she’s going to war.”
My eyes close and I barely contain a curse. Violet told me about what Seraphina had told her. She can’t go, everyone knows that but the Queen. “She’ll talk to me. I’ll take care of it.”
“If you need me –”
“I know where to find you,” I finish for him.
He takes one last look over his shoulder at Adam then walks off down the street, muttering something under his breath about guards being too good at their jobs.
Adam doesn’t hesitate to let me in, going as far as to open the door for me. Violet is crouched down against one of the walls, her knees tucked into her chest as she rocks slightly. She doesn’t look up at me as I approach, but she also doesn’t tell me to leave so I take that as a sign that she wants me near her.
Several minutes pass in silence as we sit next to each other on the cold stone floor. I wait to say anything until she stops swaying. “What happened, Vi?”
She grabs her opposite elbows with her hands, pulling her knees in tighter to her chest. “I knew I’d lose. I was supposed to lose. I didn’t lose.”
“No you didn’t.”
She lays her head on the top of her knees, looking at me. “You know why I am the way I am. You know what I went through all those years before I met you.” I nod, instinctively rubbing her back. “It all came back. All those memories and weak moments. I didn’t want to be weak.”
“You’re not.”
“I felt like I was. I refused to be like that and something happened. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Lincoln said that you accepted your powers.”
Her eyes close and she nods shallowly. “I wanted to prove to them that I wasn’t ready to go after Aetheries. I didn’t. If anything I made their decision easier.”
“Maybe if we talked to them then –”
“No. It’s too late for that. Lincoln already tried.” She finally releases her knees, stretching her legs out in front of her. She leans back until she rests against the wall. “I teleported. Seraphina said that it was rare to be able to do that. You have to have raw power, like I do. And even then it’s supposed to be hard, if not impossible to do.” She faces me. “I did it without thought. It just happened and it was … right. It felt right. It was like my power wanted to be released so that it could stretch its fingers and play.”
“Is that normal?” I ask her.
She simply shrugs. “It wasn’t just that, though. When Elijah shoved me and I fell, my arm broke.” She holds her forearm out to me. “It’s no longer broken. The lightning healed me, Em.”
My attention darts between her and her arm as I try to understand. “Like a healer?”
Another shrug. “Lincoln hasn’t so much as mentioned something like this happening. I don’t know what is going on, but I have this feeling that it’s not normal to have a power that heals you unless you are a healer.”
I wet my lips, trying to understand what this means. “What was your telling again? Was this duel what it was about?”
“In a world without magic seek to find the one hidden from the darkest of minds. Ability born of power and light will protect her from becoming the night. When the attack comes, do not run but face like with like.” She spits it out like it’s been engrained in her head for years, as though she’s repeated it over and over every day while try
ing to decipher the meaning within it.
I exhale slowly. “It’s not about the duels.” She shakes her head in agreement. “No one can know about the healing, Vi.” When she doesn’t respond, I clarify. “Not even Lincoln.”
“I don’t want to hide anything from him.”
“You have to. No one can know. We’ll get out of going to this war, I don’t know how yet, but we will. I’ll talk to Ben and Lincoln, we’ll figure something out.” I have no intent of going to the brothers, I’m going straight to the source – Maddox.
She stares unblinkingly towards the window at the front of the house. “I need to be alone, Em.”
I’m hesitant to leave her alone, not because I’m worried another attack may happen, but because she seems so lost right now. I nod, knowing she won’t let me stay if I try to argue with her. “Adam is out front. I’ll be back in a few hours. Okay?”
She nods hypnotically as though already lost in her thoughts.
Enemy Of My Enemy (Price Of Power Book 1) Page 18