I dodge flying witches and more animals, skirting air blasts and flying tombstones. Without any complications, I save Heather and Brian and send them to their homes.
Even more witches and shamans are battling. A small cloud formed from the overload of magic hovers above us, blotting out the rising sun. A lightning bolt crashes into me, as if the cloud is sentient and wants to consume me.
The cloud obscures the world with darkness, and I zoom around, struggling to find the humans and ignoring the fight as best I can. A sudden, wicked gust almost knocks me into a tombstone. Father Joseph lies down in the next row of graves, and I save him and three acquaintances from high school.
Sapphire Belladonna scoops up Paula. I pause my frantic flying pace and allow myself a small smile. I’m not the only one concerned with the innocents.
But why haven’t I found Mom yet?
Silver Tiger battles a large Bengal tiger. Although the witch appears to have everything under control, I fly over.
The witch looks up. “Don’t fret.”
How can I possibly not worry?
Silver Tiger faces me, and the tiger readies to swat at her with a giant paw, its claws curved and knife sharp. I blast him with huge gust of wind then pull one of those claws back with another squall. The tiger whelps in protest.
Silver Tiger doesn’t glance behind her, unfazed by my helping. “I already saved Patricia. She should be home in her bed sleeping by now.”
My smile is a little forced. Although I believe Silver Tiger, I wish I saw Mom, made certain she was all right, before she returned to Claymore.
I open my mouth to thank her when I spy Amber Lynx. The young witch is turning cartwheels in the air and doing loops when a mammoth eagle, at least three times the animal’s normal size, collides into her. The eagle’s talons pinch into Amber Lynx’s shoulders, and it tries to peck her eyes out.
Like a lightning flash, I rocket over, grab ahold of its tail, and yank it backward. Its talons are too entrenched into Amber Lynx’s shoulders, and it drags the screaming witch with it.
I hesitate. Burning the talons might hurt Amber Lynx too. Wind would just force the two of them away together. There has to be some way to lure the eagle away from her.
Glancing around for inspiration, I notice long, blonde hair near one of the few erect headstones. Brianna.
A wail has me refocusing on Amber Lynx. The witch struggles as the eagle flies them up high above the battlefield. The eagle releases its claws. Instead of flying, Amber Lynx plummets straight toward the ground.
Oh no! I hardly know her, but she’s already one of my favorite witches. I rush over to catch her, but the eagle swoops down and bites into her chest. With its beak, it rips out her heart.
My own heart beats frantically. Just like that, Amber Lynx is gone. Dead. And it’s my fault. If I hadn’t hesitated…
A stream of fire bursts from my hand. The eagle engulfs in flames and looks like a phoenix, only this bird will never return to life again.
Tears do not come. Is crying too human for me when in this form?
Grief-stricken, I gaze down at the remains of Amber Lynx’s body. Her face is frozen, but not in fear. No, the young witch has a strange little smile on her face. Her body shimmers with a light similar to mine and then vanishes.
I want to lash out. My control is slipping. There’s something I had been about to do, something important, more important than releasing my frustration and guilt…
Attempting to temper back my magic, I fly up high and spin around in a tight circle. There. Brianna.
But I stay there, suspended, as if time and space have no place in my world. A tiny thread of fear threatens to grow into hysteria. I’m losing myself, my emotions, my control, my feelings. I no longer know who I am, what I am becoming.
And yet the power within me… If I give myself over to it completely, nothing, and no one, will be able to stop me.
Not even myself.
Chapter 41
UNLIKE SOME OF the others I rescued, Brianna isn’t wrapped in an animal skin. My best friend is in that same strange suspended state, but she shivers although the air isn’t cold.
Wanting to conserve my magic—or maybe afraid to keep using it—I touch down to the ground near her. It feels strange to walk again, almost alien.
A bear of a man holds something long and thin in his hands. He snaps it, and the nearest witch—Azure Rose—hardly winces as her right arm bends at an impossible angel.
Azure Rose holds out her hand and slowly closes her open palm into a fist.
The shaman touches the sides of his head and screams. His eyes bulge.
I walk around them, but Azure Rose circles behind some fallen graves, forcing me to be in the middle of their fight.
Someone attempts to touch my mind, trying to use me or tap into my power. Not going to happen. I lash out mentally, shoving the influence away.
Azure Rose staggers back a few steps.
What the—
A grunt is the only warning I have. I duck, and a massive piece of rock, broken from a gravestone, flies over me and lands at Azure Rose’s feet. The stone pulsates, growing and shrinking a little before it shatters, pieces of rock flying in every direction like tiny missiles.
With slow and steady deliberation, Azure Rose lifts her good arm. The ground beneath the shaman and I rises at a frantic clip, forcing us close to the magical cloud that has now doubled in size.
I glower at the witch, even though she’s too far below us to see it, and that’s if my face is visible despite the light radiating from my body. Is she attacking me? Why?
The shaman jumps onto me, and we tumble off the witch-made mountain and fall toward the ground. I roll with him so he’s beneath me. He breaks my fall. He also breaks his back.
Careful not to step on him, I stand. The air tingles. A lightning bolt is heading my way. I leap to the right, but it still singes me, grazing my right arm.
Azure Rose. There’s no denying it—the witch is attacking me for some reason.
To avenge Azure Lynx? I won’t bet on it. Number one, I hadn’t been the one to kill her, and number two, Azure Rose made it quite clear she didn’t like me in the few minutes we spent together before the battle.
If the witch wants a fight, then she’ll get one.
Feeling like a female Thor, I call forth lightning bolts, one in each hand, and throw them simultaneously, one at Azure Rose, one at the magical cloud.
The cloud erupts and hurls thousands of lightning bolts to the ground. Some hit witches, others hit shamans, and the rest connect with the ground. The hill shakes in protest from the onslaught.
A bolt zaps Bri before I can do more than blink.
I have to get a grip of myself and my power. Unintentional consequences can prove deadly.
Please, dear Lord, don’t let my folly have harmed her! Trying not to panic, I focus on my best friend. She’s still breathing, but I don’t know how much longer she can hold on.
I send a zap of magic to the cloud. It absorbs my power, eating it, but instead of making it grow, the cloud shrinks a little and stops launching lightning bolts to the ground.
Azure Rose slowly climbs to her feet. Soot and dirt cover her. She’s dizzy, dazed, so I dash toward Bri. A sudden geyser bursts out of the ground and plows into me. My light dims slightly, but I don’t slow down. I’ll deal with Azure Rose soon enough.
More geysers rip the hill apart, some gushing water, others fire, and I fly around them all until a huge fiery one encircles me. Smoothly, I alter my course and fly upward, racing against the enclosing heat. The flames’ light makes me glistening even brighter. With my magic, I reach down into the earth. Plenty of water fills the cracks within the soil, and I call on the element. The water answers, and the fire stops growing higher and eventually starts to shrink.
Instead of extinguishing the blaze, I hover above it and clap my hands three times. A small whirlwind appears. It chases after a flying Azure Rose. Although the witch zigzags a
nd flies with incredible speed, the whirlwind catches up to her and dumps her within the fire she conjured. She shrieks and screams and eventually falls silent.
I drown the lingering flames. Only the burnt remains of the traitorous witch survive.
Azure Rose still breathes, her darkened chest rising and falling laboriously as I land beside her.
I hold my hand above her. Azure Rose does not have to die. She can yet be saved, if I chose to. “Why?” I demand.
“Amber…”
“Don’t lie.”
The witch looks away, her burned face twisting into a grimace. “I was trying to save…”
“Save who?”
“The…” Azure Rose struggles to breathe.
“Here.” I touch the witch’s right shoulder, where she isn’t badly burned.
“No, let me die.” She can barely whisper now, her voice beyond raspy. A nasty cough rattles her body.
“Who were you trying to save?” I press.
The witch dies. I’ll never learn the answer.
The fighting all around me is vicious. The crackle of magic in the air is mesmerizing, but the stench of burned hair and bodies, the reek of death, and shrills of the wounded, aid my control. Fireballs, lightning bolts, gusts, claws, teeth, talons… I avoid them all and race to Brianna. The shamans’ spell protected her from the lightning bolt. Brianna is not singed at all. I want to cry with relief, but tears still will not come.
Easily, I pick up my best friend and deposit her within the forest. “Go home, Brianna. Call Vince and tell him I’ll be over as soon as I can. Run!”
It takes longer to stir her than the others had, but eventually she hears my command and races away without looking back.
After she’s gone, I face the hill. All I want to do is leave. What do I care about the war? But until I know for certain that all of my friends are safe, I have to go back.
Racing like lightning, I jump into the air and return to the cemetery. My magically enhanced vision allows me to see through the clashes of magic flying about. I scout for any humans, but the battle proves too distracting. A small gang of shamans surrounds a large group of witches. It’s impossible to figure out what exactly the shamans do, but the witches fall, one by one, dead.
All along, neither side has overwhelmed the other. How could the shamans have gained the upper hand that quickly?
I scan the hill with a more critical eye, refusing to be preoccupied, and spy only one human remaining. A minute later, I land beside the body, bend down, and roll her over. It’s Lydia, her blue shirt stained with blood, eyes closed.
Now I know how the shamans enhanced their powers. They sacrificed Lydia to increase their magic.
Chapter 42
SO MUCH FOR human emotions not affecting me in this form. The floodgates are opened, and grief, rage, and guilt consume me. I magically lift Lydia’s body, choking back a sob at the sight of her arms and legs dangling uselessly.
“Thank you for helping me learn about my father,” I whisper into her ear. After I clean her face, I strip the blood from her clothes. At least she’ll be a slightly less shocking sight when her body is discovered. “Go home now, Lydia, and be at peace.”
Her body flies away.
My true form glows with a darker hue. “How could you?” I shriek.
Lydia never had a bad thing to say about anyone. She was a sweet girl, a little quiet. Her brothers, her parents… they’ll miss her. All of us will miss her.
“How could you!” I scream again. The first time, I meant the shamans. This time, I meant someone else.
So much evil in the world, too much evil. I’ve seen too much of the destruction of the world. Because if God exists and he allowed Lydia to be a sacrifice for a war that shouldn’t even be fought in the first place, I’d never ask him for anything again.
There was a time when I believed and Vince had no faith. Now his faith is growing. And mine? It’s gone.
God is dead to me. He doesn’t exist. There is no God.
My body burns with barely suppressed emotion. I zoom into the magical cloud, not feeling the zaps from lightning bolts it throws my way, and blast it with my raw power until it disintegrates around me. That had been no easy feat, smiting the cloud I couldn’t even touch earlier, but I have more energy to release. If I don’t, I fear I’ll explode.
“Leave now, Crystal.”
I glance around wildly. The voice sounds strangely familiar, but I never heard it before. “Who are you?” I ask.
No answer.
How can I leave? If I return home, I risk doing more harm than good, especially if I try to suppress myself. Uncontrolled magic, untamable magic… I’m a bomb waiting to explode.
Beneath me, the witches and shamans still battle. Why? Both sides are wasting their magic, their power. They should be helping people, bettering the world. Instead they’re killing each other and for what? Control of the world? To reach a higher level of cognition?
It’s because of their war that my friends were kidnapped, Mom taken, Lydia murdered.
Heady rage and the need to lash out conjure a wild wind, strong and powerful. A dark cloud forms above me, massive, its shadow covering the magical people in darkness. Large hailstones, the size of my head, hurl down toward them. Lightning bolts crash down, brilliant and beautiful with their destructive power.
Around the hill, the battles stop as shamans and witches alike glance up. I control the winds, the hailstones, the lightning bolts. The storm and I are one. I send bolts near the feet of the witches. Hailstones narrowly miss the shamans. They will listen to me. They will do what I say.
“Stop fighting,” I demand. I do not raise my voice over the terrible storm. My audience is a captive one. “The earth is not your playground.”
“You’re a child yourself. What do you know of magic?” a shaman scoffs.
I blink, and a lightning bolt spears her. The shaman chars instantly.
“I am magic.” I float up higher, hovering a few inches underneath my massive storm cloud. “Go back to your homes. The war is over. Put the past behind you, and move on with your lives.”
“Or else?” a witch I never saw before asks.
“Face my wraith.”
The witches and shamans look at one another, and for a moment, I feel victorious. Then the bear dog shaman swats at a witch, and many fights break out again throughout the destroyed cemetery.
Why won’t they stop? They have to stop. They must be stopped.
If it’s my final act, I will stop them.
From within my cloud, I rain down lightning bolts and hail and rain and snow and sleet. The wind rips at them, tearing through their clothes. One witch attempts to fly through the swirling winds and crashes into a tree.
Lydia, her senseless death, the kidnappings, their betraying and using me… I pour my raging emotions into the cloud, giving over some of my power. The cloud expands and grows, heeding my orders.
I should’ve known better. I’m not human. Emotions should be beneath me. Giving into them, feeding them into the cloud… I shouldn’t be surprised when a part of the cloud breaks off, ignores my command, and flies away.
With the hope that it’ll stop the bolts and hail, I send a jolt of magic into the cloud above the cemetery and rush after the rogue one. It streaks eastward and halts over a tiny town, blotting out the sun. Rain pours down. Someone exits a building and screams in agony when the water touches his face.
What is going on?
I descend. Rains drenches me. In human form, my skin would have bubbled, blistered, and burned from the contact. Acid. Highly corrosive.
A lightning bolt pierces my head.
Uh oh. I gulp. This cannot be happening.
The cloud is sentient.
Every human who is crazy enough to step outside, the cloud kills.
And now the cloud is trying to kill me.
With a burst of speed, I zoom inside the cloud. Blasting it with magic only increases its strength. Trying to strip it of i
ts magic fails and drains me. Giving it commands, attempting to control it, to stop it, all fail.
Only by blotting out every thought and fear for my friends and loved ones, by ignoring every bit of my human side, can I force it to retain its lightning bolts and hold back its hailstones. The electric charge within the cloud increases so dramatically light posts and even cars are lifted up, drawn to its magnetic pull.
Like a weaver, I combine all of the lightning bolts and the electric charge into one gigantic lightning bolt. My body grows numb from the force of it. I cock back my arm and throw the lightning bolt to the heavens.
It explodes like a firecracker the size of Texas.
While tending to the lightning, my hold on the hailstones faltered. The stones have grown in size, pooling from every drop of moisture within the cloud. Acid rain, at least, no longer falls. Instead, huge chunks of ice are unleashed onto the earth. Houses are dented, windows smashed, sidewalks cracked and broken from the force and weight of them. A few even land on the already dead humans.
To my horror, a young child, maybe four, runs out of a house and into the street. A huge hailstone torpedoes toward her. She skips around, her blonde pigtails swirling in the wind.
I zoom down, pick her up, and whoosh away, turning to see the hailstone crash deep into the earth where we just were.
“Are you an angel?” the girl asks.
“No. Go inside, and stay there. It isn’t safe outside.” I lower the girl onto the porch of the house she left from.
“Okay.” The girl pouts then waves, a big smile on her small face, and hurries inside the house.
I return to the crater the hailstone created. The stone’s a monster chunk of ice, weighing at least ten pounds. With steady hands, I slice open my gored wound with the jagged ice. Light magic spills forth. My power weakens, but I fly back into the cloud, which has tripled in size.
Light pierces through the darkness of the cloud, shattering it into pieces. The acidity of the rain neutralizes, the hailstones shrink into nothing, and the wind stops howling. The sun once again shines on the town, although the cloud’s destruction remains.
Paranormal After Dark Page 491
