Page 19 of Signed in Blood

When it’s obvious it’s safe to look, I go over every inch of their camp. The cooler is right outside the door. Beside it is a bench covered in snow around what’s likely a place for a bonfire. I’m so focused on the layout it takes me a moment to realize the cold I felt no longer exists.

I stare at my hands, the right and then the left. Crouching down, I place my fingers over the snow and nothing happens at first until the ice starts to heat.

From the pit of my belly something stirs, something intense and barely contained. It rises through me and my right hand trembles before flames appear.

With wide eyes, I watch fire build in my palm.

Holy fuck.

Thump, thump, thump. My heart pounds and I slowly step back in disbelief, as if I could move away from the flames I hold. I try to tell it to stop, but it only gets larger until fear makes me shove my palm against the snow. The snow melts instantly, cooling my palm, but I barely feel the sensation.

Lifting my hand, it’s as if the fire never happened. No pain. No marks. The only evidence is the melted snow.

Lucifer didn’t tell me about any of this.

That’s when I see a glint of metal. It shines under the moonlight, distracting me. An axe, stabbed into a tree stump. It’s almost like a gift, like an answer on how to kill.

I can already see it now. Executing them with their own fucking axe.

It’s a few yards away where a stack of firewood is piled up and dusted with snow. I simply imagine holding it and the damn thing flies toward me. Scared shitless, I lift my arms as if they could protect me from the vicious blade, only to catch the axe in my left hand as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

My pounding pulse echoes in disbelief over the power I hold. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen or experienced in real life.

“I can fucking move things?” I whisper to myself. What the hell else can I do?

I sneak up to the RV and see my reflection in the mirror, and as Lucifer said, I don’t recognize the girl staring back at me. She looks like a complete stranger. Something inside of me stirs with more anger. They took my whole identity and I hate them more for that.

I try not to focus on the fact that I have powers I don’t even understand as I drop the axe to the ground, trying to pick it up again, but it doesn’t work this time.

Fuck.

I try again to no avail. Fucking hell. I don’t understand.

A door creaks open and I freeze.

Once I hear one of them exit, I silently pray they can’t see me, can’t feel what I’m about to do to him, to them. I pray that he’s alone and that I can actually go through with this.

I’m not a murderer.

I’m just a woman scorned, and hell hath no fury, right?

His footsteps are heard as the door closes shut.

Thankfully, he’s alone and I act on pure impulse. I don’t need powers to kill. Humans do it all the fucking time.

I grab the axe, stepping up behind him and chuck it at his head while he grabs a beer from the cooler in the snow. Except, at the last second, he hears the wind pick up behind him and he’s able to see me there. I let out a primal cry as I lift the heavy axe and whip it down, aiming for his head but he ducks immediately. The axe falls behind him, a few feet away, and he’s too quick for me. Lunging, he grabs my head and slams it against the RV so hard I instantly see stars and begin to panic.

The trauma of what he did consumes me. The anger lost in fear.

“Fucking crazy bitch!” he screams as he grabs me.

His hands on me. All I see is red. It’s a heady concoction and I try to fight, but my vision plays tricks on me. I can’t even scream for help.

I try to stumble away, but he quickly grabs a glass bottle and rams it to my head before he starts to throw more things at me.

It crashes hard on the back of my head. The pain is brutal.

I manage to get away, stumbling over my feet and tripping on the roots of trees, as I hear one of them shout, “Who the fuck was that?