Page 156 of Bound By Fury

In a blink, Malachi jumps out of the way. His eyes widen as the ground begins to rumble and water lifts into the air, like raindrops but in reverse.

He shakes away his surprise and runs toward me. The droplets rush together, and I imagine a wall forming between us. Millions of specks congeal, and when Malachi reaches it, he hits the solid surface, falling back and rolling onto his feet.

“What the—?” He vibrates with rage.

I laugh.

Before—before Nora’s journal, before the resolve that hardened me, my power felt like a burden. But now there is something so delicious about the way it stings.

There’s something beautiful in being vicious.

But despite the rush making my head all fuzzy, there’s a strain as well. I’ve never pushed my magic like this. I drop the shield and retreat into the woods surrounding the clearing, the water trailing behind me.

I scan the trees as I pass, searching for black hair and eyes like clear skies.

A pit solidifies in my stomach. Somehow I know they’ve got him.

I try desperately to get my plan back on track without Lucas here to help.

Behind me Malachi’s footsteps echo through the forest, bouncing off the trees with a metallic ping. Even without the speed he’s been gifted, I would never be able to outrun him. I fling the water toward him in large bursts, and he sputters as they hit him in the face. My chest aches from exertion.

As I reach the edge of the tree line, I increase my speed, skidding into a new clearing with a steep drop-off down the mountain. I turn, another bolt of electricity simmering in my palm.

I watch as Malachi’s prosthesis snags on the protruding root of a large oak, and he goes flying. He drops into a roll, and I scramble backward as he uses his hands to propel himself up, dirt streaked across his cheeks.

He stands, chest heaving as he stares me down, spitting dirt off to the side. His hair and hoodie are soaked, and I don’t hide the triumphant grin that tugs at my lips.

But my moment of pride is cut short when I see the determination in his eyes.

“This ends now!” he snarls, charging forward.

I lift my hands, ignoring my uncertainty as he rushes me, with no regard for the fact that by doing so, he’s running full tilt toward the edge of a cliff.

I release the water, letting it pool at my feet. When he reaches for me, I drop, and we slip in the mud I’ve created. My back hits the ground with the force of our combined weight, and I scream as a searing pain rips through me. I claw at his face, digging my nails into his cheeks. I use my weight to my advantage and tug him closer as I roll, pinning him beneath me, bookending his hips with my thighs.

I press my hands to his chest and call the magic. I look down my nose at him, this boy turned monster.

His palms slide across my thighs, his fingers hooking behind my knees and I curse, tightening my core as he twists his hips, flipping us until I’m once again on my back beneath him.

He’s leaning over me, his face contorted into someone I no longer recognize. He’s panting, his eyes wild, the silver chain with the unusual symbol dangling over my face.

A pendulum brushing my lips over and over again.

Something wet splashes against my cheeks, and I find it curious that, with all my magic focused on the fight, I haven’t called any storms.

I pull my power back into my core, racking my brain for any idea of how to save myself. I sing to the water in Malachi’s blood as he grabs my throat. Panicking, I flail my limbs. Exhaustion is slowing me down. He pins my arms with his legs as he straddles my chest, and the hard metal of his prosthesis feels like it’s tearing the muscle from the bone. I scream in agony.

It’s too familiar. Vomit crawls up my throat. Was Malachi the one who hurt me in the maze? Did he save me from his own evil machinations?

I turn my face, avoiding the dangerous glint in his eyes as I pull the water from his blood and leak it into his lungs. My head pounds from concentration, my vision slowly fading as the sound of Malachi’s coughing fills my ears.

I buck my hips as hard as I can until I’m straddling him once again.

Ragged, wet gurgles seep from him as he clutches his throat.

Terror fills me as I watch his face turn red, then purple, then blue…

Nora’s journal entries assault me.