But his brother was still here. Lach had lost too much. Lach could die if he got caught in the fire, and it would be a big one. Grabbing on to the final vestige of his will, he pushed his brother away and ran.
He knew he was outside now, could feel the air on his skin as his clothes began to burn off.
He stopped, his vision utterly taken over by Bronwyn.
He saw a guard standing in the middle of a large crowd, a brownie child at his feet and his mercy. The guard had none. Bron’s memories assaulted him. It was so much stronger than ever before. Being on the same plane with nothing between them but miles, he could feel her power. She transmitted so strongly, but not only could she transmit, she pulled power from him.
The fire built and Shim gave in to his instincts. He forced the fire into his hands, Bron’s hands, and directed it in a thin line, trying to keep it away from the crowds. Once he let it flow, it immediately became easier to control. Flames shot from his fingertips. His skin was on fire, every inch of his body engulfed in flames, but he could control them.
The guard screamed, but the brownie Bron had been trying to save skittered away. A long breath came out of her body and then he heard a single word.
“Witch.”
Shim fell to the ground, like a puppet that had its strings cut. The flames went out, and Shim was aware that he was alone again.
His hands shook as he sat up. Something was very wrong. The connection had been brutally severed. Bron was in trouble.
Shim struggled to his feet. His naked damn feet. As his power grew, he’d found his skin could handle the flames that engulfed him, though his clothes never survived.
“Holy crap balls,” Dellacourt said, staring at the ground surrounding Shim. A perfect circle of burned grass had formed when he’d finally let his power go. “You’ve already come into your power.”
Shim’s voice was a little shaky. “I think we mentioned that.”
Dante pointed toward the woods where Shim could clearly see the line of fire he’d made when Bron had seized his power.
“It could have been worse,” Lach said, handing him a blanket. “What the hell happened? I felt something. My power surged.” Lach looked back at the porch where the Harpers stood staring. “I am so sorry. Do you have a lot of bodies buried close by?”
“What?” Rye asked. Then he took a startled step back, pulling his wife toward him.
A partially decomposed dog was trotting out of the woods, a large black dog running beside it.
“Quigley!” Rachel started trying to run toward the black dog. “Get away from that thing!”
One of the younger Harper children, a boy Shim remembered was named Patrick, stepped forward. He couldn’t be more than seven, but he looked at his fathers with outrage. “That’s Queenie! You told us Queenie went to the city.”
His brother rolled his eyes. “Dummy, don’t you know that’s what Da says when one of the animals dies? He’s too chicken to tell you so he pretends he took it to the city. Queenie got into a bad patch of berries and got herself poisoned. Da buried her in the woods.”
“Well, it looks like Da was wrong.” Patrick started to go out, but Rye held him back.
Shim wrapped the blanket around his body, his mind only half working. He looked at his brother. Lach had gone a pasty white. The dog wasn’t the only thing crawling back from wherever it had been buried. There was a horse skeleton prancing and whinnying.
“Buttercup?” Max said, with a smile on his face. “Damn, but I would know that gait anywhere. Look at you girl! You can still run. What the hell is happening?”
“Shim is a fire adept. It’s his special power.” Roan stepped up, examining the ground beneath Shim’s feet. “Lachlan is a necromancer. They came into their powers in a unique fashion. They bonded, but from a distance.”
Dante nodded. “They should have more control once a full bond is completed. But I don’t understand how it goes crazy like that. Did Shim mean to blow a path through the woods?”
“No. It was Bron. She was afraid, and then she was mad. She pulled the power out of me.”
Lach took a deep breath. “And mine always flares when Shim’s goes crazy. I’m sorry. You’ll be reburying corpses for days.”
Shim’s head was starting to clear. He was still shaky, but his ability to think and feel were coming back, and he didn’t like what was left. Lach helped him back on to the porch. “Something’s wrong with Bron.”
His brother leaned 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 what happened. I could feel it. I couldn’t see it. I never see it.”
Shim knew his brother felt cut off, but he didn’t have time to deal 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 started to walk out toward the corpse formerly known as Buttercup.
“Damn, Max.” Rye looked a little green.
Lach shook his head. “The horse won’t hurt him. It doesn’t know it’s dead. Same with the dog.”
Rachel nodded, and the kids, with the exception of Paige, ran out to greet Queenie.
Rachel frowned, her eyes on her children. “You were told that Torin is systematically killing non-sidhe.”
Shim leaned against the porch railing. “I guess I really thought you were talking about goblins and ogres. You know, the rougher creatures. Brownies are helpful. Gnomes keep the gardens growing. How does Torin think he’ll feed everyone?”
“He doesn’t care,” Rye replied. “I have no doubt he’ll enslave a few, but he’ll think that a little starvation will keep the lower classes in line. We can’t rebel if we don’t have the energy to fight.”
“I don’t understand what he’s thinking.” Shim couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. Why would anyone want to upset the balance? It was one thing to kill an ogre who threatened hundreds of villagers, quite another to systematically wipe them out. Ogres played a part, too. The same with pixies and even sluagh. They all served a purpose. The flowers would die without the pixies. The crops would struggle without the gnomes. Ogres were predators who culled herds. And they were living, thinking beings.
What was happening with Bron?
“He called her a witch.”
Lach’s eyes went wide. “What?”
Rachel Harper took a long breath. “What do you mean? You can really see her? Hear what’s happening to her?”
Shim nodded. “It can be confusing, but I know what I heard. There was a man there. He was dressed in rich clothes. He was older. Bron didn’t like him. She was a little disgusted by him. He called her a witch, and then the connection was gone. I think she was unconscious.”
He didn’t like the thought of how that had happened. He’d felt her one minute, and she’d been gone the next.
Paige Harper had paled a bit. “Witches are considered bad here. At least for the last few years. Anyone with psychic ability is labeled a witch, and Torin deals with them the same way he does non-sidhe.”
Rachel put an arm around her daughter, obviously lending her strength. “He’s taken bondmates, especially the strong ones, and they disappear. We don’t know if they’re dead or if he’s got them held somewhere. We’ve been safe here because we’re so isolated, but we’ve lost a few when we leave the village.”
Dellacourt spoke up. “According to the sluagh, he’s trained a number of consorts to turn on their masters. He’s turning over a hundred consorts to the vampire ambassadors. They’re set to go off somewhere down the line, like a number of bombs he’s planted.”
Paige put a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. She turned and ran back into the house. Rachel sent Shim an apologetic glance and then ran after her daughter.