Page 36 of Beauty

“Holy crap balls,” Dellacourt says, staring at the groundsurrounding me. A perfect circle of burned grass formed when I finally let mypower go. “You’ve already come into your power.”

My voice is still shaky. “I think we mentioned that.”

Dante points toward the woods where I can clearly see the lineof fire I created when Bron seized my power.

“It could have been worse,” Lach says, handing me a blanket.“What the hell happened? I felt something. My power surged.” Lach looks back atthe porch where the Harpers stand staring. “I am so sorry. Do you have a lot ofbodies buried close by?”

“What?” Rye asks. Then he takes a startled step back,pulling his wife toward him.

A partially decomposed dog trots out of the woods, a largeblack dog running beside it.

“Quigley!” Rachel starts trying to run toward the black dog.“Get away from that thing!”

One of the younger Harper children, a boy I remember isnamed Patrick, steps forward. He can’t be more than seven, but he looks at hisfathers with outrage. “That’s Queenie! You told us Queenie went to the city.”

His brother rolls his eyes. “Dummy, don’t you know that’swhat Da says when one of the animals dies? He’s too chicken to tell you so hepretends he took it to the city. Queenie got into a bad patch of berries andgot herself poisoned. Da buried her in the woods.”

“Well, it looks like Da was wrong.” Patrick starts to goout, but Rye holds him back.

I wrap the blanket around my body, my mind only halfworking. I look at my brother. Lach has gone a pasty white. The dog isn’t theonly thing crawling back from wherever it was buried. There’s a horse skeletonprancing and whinnying.

“Buttercup?” Max says, with a smile on his face. “Damn, butI would know that gait anywhere. Look at you girl! You can still run. What thehell is happening?”

“Shim is a fire adept. It’s his special power.” Roan stepsup, examining the ground beneath my feet. “Lachlan is a necromancer. They cameinto their powers in a unique fashion. They bonded, but from a distance.”

Dante nods. “They should have more control once a full bondis completed. But I don’t understand how it goes crazy like that. Did Shim meanto blow a path through the woods?”

“No. It was Bron,” I explain. “She was afraid, and then shewas angry. She pulled the power out of me.”

Lach takes a deep breath. “And mine always flares whenShim’s goes crazy. I’m sorry. You’ll be reburying corpses for days.”

My head is starting to clear. I’m still shaky, but myability to think and feel are coming back, and I don’t like what’s left. Lachhelps me to the porch. “Something’s wrong with Bron.”

My brother leans over. “I know. I could feel a bit of it,but we have to get you calm and strong again before we rush off. Tell me whathappened. I could feel it. I couldn’t see it. I never see it.”

I know my brother feels cut off, but I don’t have time todeal with that now. “It’s a jumble. I know she was trying to protect a brownie.A youngling, I think. Why was a guard trying to hurt a little brownie?”

Max Harper starts to walk out toward the corpse formerlyknown as Buttercup.

“Damn, Max.” Rye’s eyes widen and his skin pales.

Lach shakes his head. “The horse won’t hurt him. It doesn’tknow it’s dead. Same with the dog.”

Rachel nods, and the kids, with the exception of Paige, runout to greet Queenie.

Rachel frowns, her eyes on her children. “You were told thatTorin is systematically killing non-sidhe.”

I lean against the porch railing. “I guess I thought youwere talking about goblins and ogres. You know, the rougher creatures. Browniesare helpful. Gnomes keep the gardens growing. How does Torin think he’ll feedeveryone?”

“He doesn’t care,” Rye replies. “I have no doubt he’llenslave a few, but he’ll think that a little starvation will keep the lowerclasses in line. We can’t rebel if we don’t have the energy to fight.”

“I don’t understand what he’s thinking.” I can’t quite wrapmy head around it. Why would anyone want to upset the balance? It’s one thingto kill an ogre who threatens hundreds of villagers, quite another tosystematically wipe them out. Ogres play a part, too. The same with pixies andeven sluagh. They all serve a purpose. The flowers die without the pixies. Thecrops struggle without the gnomes. Ogres are predators who cull herds. Andthey’re living, thinking beings.

What’s happening with Bron?

“He called her a witch.”

Lach’s eyes go wide. “What?”