Bitter Magic (World War Magic Book 2)
Page 10
The command was weaker. The compulsion to obey its order, negligible. Grainne cast her mind out through the breached walls, concrete cracking open from the heat. Her mind slid and slithered and railed and wept. Dying even as she tried with every cell of her being not to die.
A flash. Light spun out from the wall beside her. The noise of falling masonry as the crackling shell of cement broke and fell away. The heat doing in seconds what the long weeks of confinement had failed to do. A waft of soft, fresh air blew across Grainne’s face as she turned her grateful face toward the light to die.
Not today, honey.
The thought imposed itself. Not hers. Not belonging to the magic. Grainne felt rough hands grab hold of her, even though through her slitted eyes she could see nothing there.
At least TRY to help me.
Grainne roused herself at the order. She turned over onto her hands and knees, crawling toward the overwhelming brightness of the sun. The breeze across her face smelled of late summer fruits, over-ripened on the trees.
She reached out again, this time ignoring the men gathered around the scene to pick up the charred remains of her carcass. Grainne reached out for the commanding voice that had inserted itself into her mind.
Just like the day that her best friend burned beneath a scorching trail of jet fuel, Grainne’s body transported. Winking out of existence and back into life somewhere else. This time, she wasn’t grasped in the fat, familiar arms of Jane. Instead, a teenage girl with white-blond hair eyed her warily, as though expecting she would bite.
As she heaved in a breath of fresh air, Grainne’s lungs picked their moment to expel the smoke she’d breathed in earlier. Along with the bucket of mucus that had trapped the worst of it a safe distance from the inflamed flesh. She coughed until her head was spinning. Her ears rang with a siren sound.
The magic flowed out of her hands, glowing and burning her with its weight. It knit together the soft tissue of her esophagus, the lining of her mouth, her throat. The girl beside her gasped, and Grainne opened her eyes wide to look down at herself. Her skin now glowed so brightly it was hard to look at herself.
“You look like an angel,” the girl said, her voice full of wondrous energy. She extended a hand toward Grainne, then pulled it back, unsure.
Grainne opened her own hand, watching the play of light as it danced upon her fingers. She stared, enraptured, until her ears picked out the beautiful sound of birdsong from a tree far overhead.
No concrete was muffling it. No walls surrounded them to deaden its uplifting song. Her heart filled to overflowing with gratitude.
She reached her arm out, clutching the young woman’s sweater in her hand.
“I’m free,” she said, the words halfway between a statement and a question.
“You’re free,” the girl said, nodding.
Grainne turned her head, looking around her at the strange abandoned shapes of a rubbish dump. A car sat on blocks, every piece of removable equipment gone years ago. Rust had taken over from metal as the chief component of its structure. Raggedy bushes lined the gravel and dirt stretching in front of her. Off to her right, larger piles of rubbish lay in the distance. Lying in a field so unimportant, it wasn’t even worth the bother of digging a hole to deposit the refuse in.
The sunlight caught the edges of trees growing along the edge of an abandoned road. Their branches were thin, spindly. They appeared to have more in common with the struggling weeds dotted about, than the oaks and chestnuts that would be their cousins.
Grainne tilted her head back, swirling with the magic hues of color, and felt the sunlight wash across her face.
“I’m free.”
Thanks for Reading :)
I’m delighted you’ve found this story from my World War Magic universe and hope you enjoyed it. Check out the other titles in this series on the next page and stay tuned for another installment soon.
About the Author - Lee Hayton
Traveling is a great expander of ideas and the understanding of other cultures, and although I’ve explored this facet of the world many times, in the end I’ve always made the return journey to my home—just a hop, skip, and a jump from from my birthplace.
I love entertaining readers with a good story, whether it’s one designed to make your blood curdle with fear or have you explode into fits of laughter.
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