Anomaly (Causal Enchantment #4)(13)
Author: K.A. Tucker

I plucked at the helices floating within my body, each one powerful enough to cause destruction, all of them combined capable of devastation. “All of you, be ready to run. Lilly—tell Kait to get the hell out of there. Now.” A worry hit me. “Has anyone heard from Amelie?”

Head shakes answered. I had to believe for her sake—and Julian’s—that she was nowhere near this. “Can someone get hold of Caden? Maybe he’s waiting at the rendezvous point with her and—”

“They’ve seen us,” Mortimer hissed. My gaze snapped down to catch the soldier’s eyes locked on me, a wicked grin on his face. A shout of, “She’s here!” erupted from his mouth.

Without thinking, I incinerated him where he stood.

The other soldiers were quick to zero in on me and the sight of fire broke many of the fledglings’ feeding daze, their eyes widening with the threat.

I’d run out of time. “Get behind me!” I yelled as I unleashed a powerful torrent of magic, targeting one entrance after another. They came down like dominoes, steel beams stumbling, chunks of concrete breaking off. There was nothing stopping the fledglings from tossing the boulders off to the side, but Mage was right—this could buy us some much-needed time.

I stalled as three sizeable chunks of concrete rained down, crushing several in the crowd where they sat. I watched the ceiling with trepidation, wary that my onslaught might be too much for the structure.

That momentary lapse gave the soldiers time to scale the stairs. I found myself facing off against five large men. Normally I wouldn’t care, but I couldn’t fight them and finish closing off this place.

Luckily, I didn’t have to. Five forms jetted out from behind me, having ignored my demands that they stay back. They quickly dispatched the attackers so I could return to the task at hand.

To my dismay, fledglings were running for the tunnels like rats under threat of water, an image Mage had described earlier and, now that I witnessed it, couldn’t be more accurate. We couldn’t have them warning the other station.

I unloaded several more blasts of magic into the tunnels, reaching deep within to close them off completely. Beneath my feet, a tremor vibrated the staircase we stood on, but I ignored it, focused on the remaining fledglings now trapped, intent on burning them to ashes.

But the rumbling didn’t stop.

And when the cracking sound drew my attention to the fissure overhead, up and all around the curved ceiling, my stomach tightened.

I knew what was about to happen.

Mage grabbed hold and yanked me through the only exit left intact. We made it to the street level just in time to watch the pavement open up as the construction site caved in.

“Oh my …,” Fiona gasped behind me as vehicles and pedestrians disappeared into the chasm.

Chaos exploded around us. People scrambled to get away, hugging their loved ones as they ran down the street. In the distance, the screams of sirens bounced off buildings. I couldn’t say if they were rushing here or to the crash site of the runaway train.

And, in the mix of it all, were the fledglings. And they were scattering.

“The park!” Mortimer yelled as they took off, leaving Mage and me standing still in the midst of disaster. I could’ve yelled after them, demanded that they stay, that we needed to stick together. But I didn’t.

Instead, I stepped to the edge, my insides knotting as I witnessed the worst of it unfold below. People trapped in cars—the ones not already crushed anyway—peering through the darkness, their shocked faces frozen, the few seconds of relief as their doors are ripped off or their windows smashed, when they think they’ve been saved.

The screams of horror when they realize the truth.

“Do you have any magic left in you?” Mage asked.

“Some,” I said, my voice hollow. For what good it would do us, I didn’t know.

“Then you need to finish this. Eliminate what you can.”

I turned to gape at her. Was she serious?

“They’ll be climbing out soon and when they do …” She left the words hanging like the death sentence that they were.

My teeth cracked against the weight of this decision as I took in dozens of cars, the figures still moving inside.

“Sofie, their hearts may still beat but they are already dead,” Mage said more softly.

She was right. Mage was always right.

I closed my eyes as I depleted every last trace of my magic, igniting the massive hole with witch fire. The last heartbeats faded almost instantly.

And I knew that this night would haunt me for years to come.

Chapter Seven – Evangeline

The small wisp of smoke floating from the chimney told me that someone was home.

“Looks like everyone’s asleep,” I whispered as we made our way toward the dark log house, about five miles from the mine. Of course, we’d know soon enough. Their heartbeats would throb in our throats; the scent of their blood would fill our nostrils. And I’d know exactly how stupid I was for suggesting this.

I grabbed hold of Julian’s arm. “Wait.” His feet slowed. “Julian?”

Eyes mixed with excitement and wariness shone in the full moonlight as he turned to me.

Though I still didn’t really know what I was doing, I was quite sure that part of compelling someone required meaning the words. They couldn’t be a flippant comment, a passing request. I had to feel their importance. Thankfully, that wasn’t hard this time around, because I hoped with every fiber of my being that this would work.

“Julian, this is a test. You won’t hurt anyone in there. You will not feed on anyone. You’ll be able to resist the urge.”

He blinked several times and then turned his attention back to the quiet home, nodding slowly.

This has to work. “Ready?”

“Yup.”

I crossed my fingers that it would really be that easy.

A turn of the doorknob revealed the door to be unlocked.

“What’s the point of a deadbolt if you’re not going to use it?” Julian muttered.

“I guess they don’t expect to be bothered out here.” I left fresh snow tracks on the tile floor as I stepped into the house. The smell of them—of human life—hit me instantly, an appealing waft, like stepping into a warm bakery on a cold winter morning. I inhaled instinctively.

And reached out to grab hold of Julian’s forearm. Turning back, I found his eyes squeezed shut.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. I can resist this,” he forced through gritted teeth.

“You can. Look at me.” His eyes cracked open, crimson swarming the whites. “You will not hurt anyone in this house tonight, Julian. You will resist,” I said evenly.

He visibly relaxed. Baby steps. That’s all this was. If he could handle this, then maybe Sofie was wrong. Maybe Julian and I could join in the fight in New York. We could be useful!

I walked into the living room, my feet soundless against the old wood floors. I scanned the collage of photos on the wall, learning what I could about the family whose life I was gambling with tonight. A couple and three boys, all in their teens, by the looks of it.

“Why are you smiling?” Julian’s eyes followed mine over the countless pictures of the boys on surfboards and skis.

I shrugged. I’d never so much as flirted with the law for all of my eighteen years. I was never a rule breaker or a thrill seeker as a human, but there was something exhilarating about this. Maybe it was because I couldn’t get caught; maybe it was because I couldn’t be punished. Or maybe it was just in my new nature to do risky, bad things.

That thought wiped the grin clear off my face.

“Come on.”

It was at the stairs that I felt the first soft thrum of a heartbeat. Slow and steady. Asleep. I sensed another one soon after that. And then another. As we climbed the stairs toward the bedrooms over the back of the house, I counted five people sleeping soundly, unaware that intruders lurked just outside their door.

I peered back at Julian. “You’ll be fine.” I wasn’t sure if I was assuring him or myself. “You won’t hurt anyone.” The fact that he hadn’t already bolted past me and attacked was a great sign.

When we reached the landing, I stopped in front of the first door on the left, covered with a poster of a snowboarder. One of the boys, obviously. A hint of wariness crept in now. What if Julian attacked a kid? I’d never forgive myself. But if he didn’t—if I proved to myself that I could compel a fledgling not to kill a human—then … this was something I needed to confirm. Just in case, I grabbed his hand before pushing the door open.

The light from a muted flat screen television flickered within the small bedroom, illuminating a wall of band posters and shelves of sports trophies. A boy of perhaps fifteen lay in his bed, one of his legs bound from thigh to ankle in a cast and propped on a pillow. Half a dozen pill bottles and a tall glass of water sat on his nightstand.

And he was watching us.

In the time that it took his heart to accelerate from relaxed to frightened and his jaw to drop open, I was across the room and gripping his mouth shut, drawing his baby blue eyes into mine. “You will not scream. You will not fight back. Stay exactly as you are.” Just as with that nurse at the hospital, the cloudy look filled his eyes. He nodded slowly.

I glanced over my shoulder to confirm that Julian was fine, his back pressed up against the wall, and then I focused my attention on the boy again. “What’s your name?”

“Dixon,” he said, his eyelids fluttering.

“You were supposed to be asleep, Dixon,” I said softly. I guess I’d have to learn the difference between a relaxed and unconscious heart rate. There was no mistaking it now, though. He was wide awake, and trembling. Despite being compelled, he was terrified.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Dixon said, his voice cracking. “My leg hurts.”

I looked down at the cast, my fingertip sliding over the top. “What happened?” I asked, sensing the weakness beneath my hand, like a sudden cold spot amidst warmth. “Your femur is broken,” I stated, the urge to wrap my hand around it sudden and irresistible.

“Yeah, a ski accident. I just got out of the hospital.”

“That sure does sound painful.”

One side of his face lifted in a boyish smirk as his eyes flickered on my hand. “I haven’t slept in days.” Deep bags hung beneath Dixon’s eyes.

My fascination with the boy’s injury had taken over my other reason for being here. The harder I focused on the break, the more I learned, the more I could imagine. But, was I imagining? “There are pins as well, aren’t there?” My fingers tingled with the cool touch of thin, sharp metal.

“Yeah.” His head dipped. “I’ll probably never ski again.” The air shifted, and an overwhelming sense of sadness slammed into me. His emotions. I was reading his emotions! This is what it felt like? Sofie had always said I was an open book as a human. Was this what it felt like to feel my pain, my sorrow, my happiness along with me? Because I was certain that it was my sadness overwhelming me, so acute.

The deep need to make this bone whole again consumed me, and I couldn’t ignore it.

Because somehow, intrinsically, I knew that I could fix it.

I stopped for a moment to consider the logic. I knew that I could likely bite him and inject him with venom. If I did, he could ski for the rest of his life. He could fall off a cliff and walk away, unscathed. There would be no “never” for him again.

I closed my eyes as need bubbled inside me, spurning my body forward. That energy I’d been carrying deep inside from the moment I woke up now pushed against its walls, as if ready to combust. I fought it. As it grew and expanded and absorbed, I fought to keep it down. Was this the unstoppable urge that Sofie warned me about? Was I about to do the very thing I had compelled Julian not to?

Maybe I couldn’t control myself at all.

Maybe I was different, but not that different.

Even with my eyes closed, I sensed the television flickering and heard the windowpane rattle. The entire time, I could not escape the need to mend this boy, to fix that which should not be broken.

Like a blown-up but untied balloon released into the air, the urge suddenly deflated from me. I opened my eyes, praying that they were normal—as normal as yellow eyes could be—to find Dixon’s faced flushed.

He peered down at his cast. Turning it this way and that, his frown deepened. “It stopped hurting.” The cloudy swirl in his eyes had vanished, leaving awe behind. “What did you do?” he whispered.

I hadn’t bitten him, that much I knew. “I’m not sure,” I admitted. I turned back to look at Julian, his brows high on his forehead. “What happened?” I mouthed.

Julian could only shrug.

“My leg doesn’t hurt anymore.” Dixon sat up, rolling it furiously, lifting it up and letting the cast bounce on the mattress.

Had I just healed Dixon’s broken bone?