Page 173 of Bound By Fury
The leader of the Midnight Guard has rolled up his sleeves, and for the first time, I see them. Several static black symbols against his skin, like Kai’s mark, but not. Perhaps that’s what happens when the hunter kills the witch he’s marked, the roving swirls transform and find a permanent place of rest along the hunter’s body. Like a trophy. A medal of dishonor.
The storm brewing above us peaks, and the rain falls in fat droplets that splash against the wood panels and pews. The organ beneath the cross has gone crooked from the force of my atomic blast.
I focus my magic on Lucas, who’s become my greatest threat.
Pulling the falling water into a cyclone that circles him, I watch as the others back away. Closer and closer, I guide it toward Lucas.
“You don’t have to do this, Harper!” he warns as he uses his new magic to pull dirt from between the slats of the floor. It turns to mud as it mixes with the rain, and he molds the wet ground into fist-sized balls and flings them at me. I dodge them as I struggle to maintain a hold on my power.
Cloaked figures try to restrain me, but each attempt is warded off by spouts of pressurized water and gusts of howling, storm-fed wind.
I turn in circles as I maneuver around their advances, holding them off with my lightning all while trying to keep my eye on Lucas.
I’m being pulled in too many directions. It doesn’t matter how powerful I am. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, and though my magic felt limitless at first, it’s clear to me now that it’s not.
I hit something warm, soaked, and solid.
Somehow Kai and I have wound up back to back. “Give it up, you little brats!” Alastair screams against the raging storm. “It’s over! You lost!”
I shake my head.
“Lucas, son,” Alastair calls. “Come.” He folds his hand and gestures for Lucas to join him at his side. Alastair’s hair is wet and plastered to his forehead, and his chest rises and falls so fast, it’s a wonder he hasn’t died of a heart attack by now.
“You know, Harper, the Guardians have been made in opposition to all that you are: a witch. An abomination. A blight upon the earth. We were created to reclaim this unrighteous power, to transform it and wield it in the name of the Lord. To help cull the earth of the unworthy. Some among our ranks may call my methods ‘extreme,’ ” he puts air quotes around the word, “but in the end, we all have the same goal. Absolution. Eternal power. To not only walk in the image of God, but to become Him. Some may call that blasphemy.”
His eyes gleam with a fervor akin to madness.
“But I call it verity.”
I cringe at his words. Verity. What the hell does that even mean?
“I’ve always known that Guardians are not yet all powerful, and that power would come at a cost. That is, aligning with other… beings that believe in our ministry. I just never thought I would have one under my nose this whole time.”
He turns his face to his son.
“A gift from the most righteous!”
Lucas pulls back his lips in a true smile. He’s startlingly beautiful, even now. Maybe even more so.
I reach behind my back and grab Kai’s hands, stifling a sigh when I feel the familiar surge of electricity.
It’s still loud, the feel of him. But it’s no longer grating, discordant. Instead it harmonizes with what’s already burning up inside me.
Somehow, we are bound together. More than the hunter’s mark. More than history. More than summers in Earnest. The prophecy foretold a traitor among the ranks of the Guardians. I think I’ve found him.
“Who’s the abomination now?” I spit at Lucas.
He only smirks, eyes a swirling, devil red, before he cocks his arm back and roars.
Vines shoot from the ground, bobbing through the air like the heads of snakes.
I squeeze Kai’s hands, and when he squeezes back, I let our magic sing.
It bubbles, rising like a wayward tide, and crashes around us, rippling across the ground in waves.
The Guardians go flying, but something’s wrong.
Alastair has lunged at the last second and grabbed on to Kai’s sleeve, dragging him along with the wave of power, ripping him from my hands.
