Page 33 of Signed in Blood

Anger rises in me without hesitation. My pulse pounds in my ears. A power comes over me, a heat like I've never known.

“Please stop,” she says through a sob. Both of her hands are up, blocking him, but it’s of no use. She sounds like me, I think.

He hisses something, towering over her.

He’s signed his own death warrant.

Anger blisters the palms of my hands. A light burn is followed by warmth and I welcome it.

“Give it!” he commands, attempting to rip her purse from her.

“Hey!” I call out, my eyes pinning him where he stands.

Literally. Pinning him.

At first I don't understand it, but the man seems paralyzed. The woman, dressed in a pom beanie and puff jacket with boots that look far too worn out for that designer bag to be real, stares at me a moment. But only a fraction of a second before clinging to her purse and running off.

Leaving me alone with…a mugger, a rapist maybe? A man I don’t know a damn thing about other than that he made her scream and didn’t let her go when she begged him to.

And that’s enough for me.

I blink and the man does nothing but grin at me. A slow slick smile. “Well hey there, pretty thing,” he says as if he’s in a trance.

He takes a step forward, a single one, and I tell him to stop on instinct. “Stop!”

And he does. He obeys. Like a lost little puppy dog, the stranger obeys.

What the hell?

The warmth of fire pricks at my hands and I look down to see a small flame. I peek back up at him and he stands there, simply waiting for whatever I have planned next. Enjoying this new magic that’s available for the taking. I don’t hesitate in playing with him.

“What do you need, beautiful?” he asks me. His tone is easy, casual…obedient.

His jean jacket covers a long-sleeve navy Henley. In black jeans and black work boots, he looks like he works a blue-collar job. His dark hair is slicked back but his eyes…they’re glazed over. The lightest of blues and yet nothing is there.

“Walk two steps,” I tell him and he counts them out.

“One, two,” he says.

“Smack your face,” I command him out of pure curiosity. And he doesn’t even hesitate.

Smack!

I can’t help but laugh. Is he another gift for me?

“Again!” I call out and he slaps himself with a flat hand that leaves a bright red mark over his stubble.

“Again,” I call out and once again, smack!

The power is heady. He doesn’t seem phased by the pain at all. I wonder if he can even feel it.

I lift my palm up, where the fire still burns and sick thoughts fill my mind. I allow each one to take over…

Loving the new powers of my seduction.

I gather more flames, aiming them directly at him. They circle around him and now, I make sure he can feel everything. I’ve turned into some sort of vigilante and I fucking thrive in it.

He needs to pay for what he was going to do with that poor woman, along with what he’s done to others, a voice whispers at the back of my mind. Suddenly, all humor leaves me. He instantly backs away from the flames that circle him now, except there’s no way out.