She didn’t even give her burned body much attention. Heck, she didn’t look to be in pain! She gesticulated wildly, arguing with Marion. Chandler stood to her side. He was less vociferous about the issue, but it was obvious he didn’t want to get on Alice’s bad side, so he supported his sister.
Oh, and Alice’s body was healing itself up. It was slow and might have been missed by less curious eyes, but it was happening. New skin was replacing the charred parts. Where there was no skin, fresh tissue materialized. That was beyond rove magic; her body was healing on its own. Emily began to suspect Alice was not really a little girl. At least not a human one.
This was enough to make Michael pause near Emily.
“What’s Marion doing with the vamp?” The usual venom shot from Michael’s tongue—the venom borne out of his anger for all things supernatural. Emily wondered how one person could be filled with so much hate for other living, breathing people.
Emily realized that getting Michael to accept who he really was, and falling in line with her to save the town, might be a taller order than getting rid of the Alfreds.
Then Emily realized what he had just said. “V-V-Vamp?” she stuttered, but not loud enough to be heard.
“Emily?” Michael looked down at her. “Why is Marion hanging around those two people? The girl, she’s regenerating. She’s not even in pain. She’s a vampire.”
Oooohhh . . .
Then his eyes focused in on Emily’s father. He frowned. “Is that your dad?” He went to John’s other side and propped his head in his hands. “How?”
Emily explained what had happened. She left out all the juicy parts about her being The Owl. She only told him how Alice had attacked her and how Dad had been electrocuted trying to help her. She didn’t tell him that it was his magic that had pulled her from the brink of death. He’d probably used his magic unwittingly.
“He’ll live.”
Emily and Michael both turned to the voice. It was Marion. He was calm and serious. His hands were in his pockets.
“Yeah?” Emily spat.
Marion’s grim eyes fell on her. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need your apology!” she growled. “Why did you even warn me?”
“Why else?” Marion asked.
“You need me alive for the ritual?” suggested Emily.
“What ritual?” Michael cut in, drawing annoyed looks from both Emily and Marion.
Marion traded looks between Emily and Michael. “She hasn’t told you, has she?”
Michael frowned. “Told me what?” He glanced at Emily. “What’s he talking about?”
Emily remained silent. Her heart pounded in her chest. This was not how she’d planned for Michael to learn about everything. She’d hoped for a calmer situation, where she could control the onslaught of information about his heritage.
But here they were in the middle of a battle of their lives. How could she prevent Michael from going ballistic and walking out into danger? That Alice girl was crazy. And a freaking vampire apparently. She had zero restraint.
“Emily, talk to me!” Michael demanded.
“Hey, calm the heck down, Mr. Winter,” said Marion, angry. “I’m sure in due time, you’ll be let into why you’re here and not imprisoned in my house.”
Michael’s eyes widened then and there. He looked at Emily. “You . . . you were there . . .”
Emily couldn’t help but stare back blankly.
“You rescued me.” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “You’re The Owl!” He said it as though he’d finally figured out the answer to the long-unsolved mystery of life.
“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Emily cut back. “Because you’re a warlock, and we’re on level playing field now.”
“No!” Michael jumped to his feet. The hatred in his eyes was so harsh that Emily believed he was going to assault and kill her right there.
“You and I are nothing alike!” he shrilled. “You’re an abomination. A mistake. You’re a curse to our lands.”
Emily felt each word cut through her heart like a knife. Tears welled up in her eyes. It wasn’t what he said that pained her so much; it was the fact he was her brother that gave his words so much power. And he didn’t even know.
She looked away.
“What? No clever comeback?” taunted Michael.
Emily ignored the boy and lifted her father up. Dad’s weight was so much that she collapsed under him. Michael was at her side in no time, trying to help her.
“Leave us alone!” She shoved her brother away, tears sliding down her cheeks.
14
Anger flashed through Michael’s eyes. He gritted his teeth, still on the ground where he’d fallen after she’d pushed him.
Emily was so heartbroken she was on the verge of losing it. In spite of her tiredness, she could feel the rage piquing her Owl form. But it wasn’t Selena this time. It was the fire demon. He seemed to respond very well to anger.
Emily knew that all she had to do was let go, and the fire demon would erupt out of her and roast Michael where he sat. Somehow, the fire demon seemed to have a reserve of power that he wanted to use to accomplish the transformation from human to Owl.
“I just want to help.” Michael picked himself up.
Emily ignored him and tried to get her father up to a standing position. Again, he was too heavy for her, and she couldn’t raise him past the sitting position. But then Michael appeared at Dad’s other side and hooked Dad’s arm with his own.
Emily glared at him. She was about to strike out at him with another shove, but he raised his hands in surrender.
“I won’t hurt him!” He looked sincere. “Look, obviously, you need help getting your father into the house.” He nodded at the three Alfreds, who were still arguing. “With those weirdos out there, we need him to be safe. Now, I know I haven’t always been the best sport—”
“Ya think?” Emily retorted.
Michael bit his lip, probably holding back a string of insults aimed at her. “—but I know I have a lot of catching up to do. And I know you’ve got a lot to tell me. Like what Marion meant just now.”
Emily shrugged. She dreaded the part where she would have to tell him they were siblings. That the woman he thought was his mother was not. That his parents had lied to him his whole life. She dreaded being the one to upend his entire universe.
She began to wonder how he’d take it. Michael wasn’t really a volatile person. He was reasonable. And smart. And maybe even cute, when he wasn’t being a douchebag. He just hated supernaturals. Maybe it had something to do with being raised by a vigilante—his father, whose past traumatic experience fueled his desire to rid New Haven of its supernatural infestation.
Emily looked at Michael’s pleading eyes. It was obvious he didn’t want to fight. He might have started out being combustible. However, the current state of things may have opened his eyes to one simple fact: They were in this together. They needed each other. And it was not only unhelpful, but flat-out dangerous to fight each other.
Now it was Emily’s turn to realize and appreciate that fact, rather than let her emotions get the better of her.
To that end, Emily shut her eyes and allowed the hurt, anger, and disappointment to wash through her. It was painful, but she let it flow. She needed to.
When she opened her eyes, Michael was looking at her. She found her voice again. “Thanks for your help. There are a few bedrooms upstairs. We need to put him in one.”
“We could put him in mine,” Michael offered. “With what I’ve learned so far, and what I think I’m about to learn, I probably won’t be sleeping again today.”
Emily nodded her agreement.
Together, they picked her father up. His legs and arms flapped aimlessly as they hefted him across the dirt ground to the steps of the porch. As they climbed up, Dad tried to put his weight on his feet, but to no avail.
Emily wondered if what had happened to Dad was permanent. She hadn’t gotten him
back from the hex to lose him to yet another. She couldn’t bear to think of taking care of him for the rest of his life, just like she had taken care of him when he was cursed.
She used her free hand to open the door, and they dragged Mr. Davies through it. When they got inside the house, Michael hefted the injured man onto his shoulders, to Emily’s mild surprise.
Michael managed to bang John’s head twice against the banister before he got his coordination. When he did regain his footing, he bounded up the stairs with Emily in tight tow. She followed from behind in case Michael suddenly lost strength. She would be there to catch her father.
The next floor of the cottage was long. Surprisingly so. Maybe even weirdly so. The floorboards gleamed in the incandescent light. The air was scented and fresh. Numerous doors lined the hall on both sides.
Emily stood, startled, as she looked all the way down the corridor. The length couldn’t have been right. This corridor looked thrice as long as the actual length of the house.
Michael had gone three steps into the corridor when he noticed she was no longer following. He paused and turned to look at her. A question blossomed on his face the moment he saw her shock. But then he smiled.
“I thought it was weird, too.” He knew what she was thinking. “I didn’t think much of it, until I came outside. But then I saw the dome and the three and you, so I figured it was some form of sorcery. This is Anastacia’s place, right?”
Emily nodded.
Michael smirked. “I always knew that crackpot was a witch. She managed to deceive the entire town, including my dad. But she didn’t get past me. Just like . . .” His voice trailed off.
“Just like I didn’t get past you, right?” Emily’s anger was beginning to rear its head once again. “You were going to say that, weren’t you?”
Michael looked down. “Yes. But I didn’t. That’s what matters. Now are you going to help me get your father tucked in bed, or are you going to stand there and pout about it?”
Emily balled her palms, trying her best not to let the fire demon take control of her rage. She could feel him knocking around in her mind. She could feel the heat of his power burning in her blood. She could feel his magic; she could hear his promise. It was going to burn all her enemies to cinders. It was going to save her friends. It was going to destroy the Alfreds. It was going to drench the whole town in fire and blood if anyone dared oppose her.
“Emily?” Michael’s voice was tainted in fear. “Can we go?”
Emily grunted and started walking again.
They got to the fifth room on the right. It had Michael’s name clearly stenciled on the upper lintel. Emily frowned at it as they ducked into the small, homely room.
It had a nice king-size bed up against the windows. Emily helped Michael lay her dad on it. She pulled the curtains apart and looked out the closed window. It was a view of the side of the house. There were tall eerie-looking trees. There was also the side of the barrier, which shimmered in the night.
If she leaned against the window and looked down, she could see portions of the front of the house. She saw the dirt path and a side of the Alfreds’ Land Rover.
“Em . . .” Dad’s strained voice yanked Emily’s attention back into the room. She plopped down on the bed beside him.
He turned his neck with great strain until he was looking in her direction. His lips were pinched into a pressed line. His eyes coated with tears. One drop escaped his right eye, rolling down his temple.
“It’s okay, Dad,” Emily crooned. “I’m okay. You got hit by a lightning bolt.”
Dad nodded. It took him a full ten seconds to accomplish it. Emily was relieved for one reason—which was that Dad was recovering. He wasn’t going to be perpetually paralyzed.
“He’s getting better,” Michael observed. “It might take some time for his chemical synapses to stabilize, but he’ll walk again. About ten hours or so.”
Emily blinked at her brother. “How do you know all that?”
He shrugged. “In my dad’s line of work, this kind of stuff happens all the time.”
Dad had already turned to look at Michael, who had retreated to the doorway.
“Hello, Mr. Davies,” Michael addressed him. Emily might have dreamed it, but she could have sworn she heard respect in the young man’s words.
Dad didn’t even try to speak. He only moved his head in acknowledgment.
“We need to go and figure out our next plan,” Michael said to Emily. “Plus, there’s a lot more I need to know. Let’s get started.”
Emily hissed, ignoring the guy. She returned her focus to her father. She wasn’t going to allow Michael to dictate what she did or when she did it.
“Go, Emily,” Dad muttered. “I’ll—be—fine.”
Emily wished Dad wouldn’t be so modest. She wished he wouldn’t send her away. Because she knew what she must do. She knew what must happen. And she wasn’t feeling up to it. Especially not knowing how Michael would react to everything.
15
Emily pulled the duvet over her father, taking her time to ensure he was comfortable. All the while, she thought of how she was going to break the news to Michael.
There were a lot of things to be said. She didn’t know where to begin.
“Emily,” Michael said the third time she was redressing her father’s duvet.
Emily paused and looked back at him. “Yeah?”
“I think that’s enough.” He motioned to the duvet in her hand.
She just sighed.
“Look, I know there’s a lot that has happened that you think I might not want to know, but maybe you don’t know me well enough.” Michael didn’t break eye contact with her as he spoke. “Maybe I’ve suspected a few things and have never really been able to prove it.”
He paused for a moment, then added, “Maybe I’ve figured it all out for myself and just need a little proof.”
“Like the fact you’re a warlock?” Emily stated bluntly.
The flash of pain across Michael’s face was unmistakable. His eyes shone with vexation. She recognized the look. Or rather the feeling he must have coursing through his veins. She had once felt that way, too. When she’d found out about her Owl side, and how she was a supernatural living in a town that beheaded her kind.
She’d had the perfect life. She was the captain of the cheerleading squad. She was the most popular girl in the whole school. She was Miss Perfect. Everything a girl in high school wanted to be. Well on her way to becoming Valedictorian and going on to an Ivy League institution.
In other words, her life was ideal. That is, until she got hit with the discovery she was a supernatural. It threatened to destroy her whole life. She resented her parents for keeping the secret from her.
She despised even herself for becoming the very thing that would destroy her. She loathed The Owl. Mistreated her. Saw her as the very bane of her existence.
Back then, if someone had told her she was The Owl, she would have had that same look of pain and resentment. It was a violation on an intimate level—absolutely defiling.
It took her a long time to get out of that rut. As she saw the look on Michael’s face, she knew there was a long way to go between Michael accepting he was a warlock and actually growing to utilize his powers.
You never know. Selena’s voice was calm and authoritative.
Where have you been? Emily screamed back internally.
Around, Selena replied casually. Warlocks are different from Owls. They don’t carry consciousness in their minds. Think of it as a muscle. The more they develop it, the bigger it becomes. They can decide never to use it, and they’ll be just like any other mortal. How did you think Aunt Anastacia survived so long?
You’re saying it might not take him as long as it took me?
Yes, Selena affirmed. He doesn’t have to deal with another person wanting prime time, like me.
“Are we doing this or not?” Michael asked after a while.
Emily dropped the duvet a
nd hopped to her feet. “Yes. Let’s head down to the living room.”
When they stepped into the living room, Michael motioned for her to take the couch, while he took the armchair directly facing her. They sat down and stared at each other for a silent minute.
Outside, the sound of the three Alfreds arguing was no more. It was total silence, which made Emily wonder what they were doing. She saw an escape route from this session with Michael and jumped at it without thinking.
“I have to check out what the Alfreds are doing.” Emily shot to her feet before Michael could object. She was already choking on air. She ran for the door, just as Michael called her name with a warning tone in his voice.
She pushed the door open and escaped onto the porch, shutting the door behind her, trying to abolish any idea in Michael’s head that he must follow her outside.
But she immediately froze, having found the three Alfreds. They were just beyond the shimmering barrier and had formed a tight circle. On the dirt was a pentagram drawn using white chalk. The trio stood within the hexagon, forming a circle, and chanting a mysterious, but sweetly sonorous melody.
As they did, a white ball of flame formed in their midst. The more they chanted, the fiercer and larger it became. The white ball grew to the size of an SUV. Then they yelled a command and hurled the ball of fire in the direction of the house.
Michael slipped out onto the porch in time to watch the fireworks. The ball slammed into the dome and exploded in a bright white flash. The whole house shook at its foundation as though an earthquake had broken forth upon it.
The shield flared and crackled and spat, but it held.
The trio had stopped to watch the fireworks as well. When they saw that the shield held, they turned back to chant again. Before Alice Alfred turned back, she flashed Emily a sick smile. Emily knew what the message meant. The Alfreds were coming for them.
“How long before they breach the shield?” Michael’s voice was so close that Emily flinched to the side.
She glared at him for sneaking up on her.
Controlled by a Fire Demon: The Owl Shifter Chronicles Book Two Page 7
