Shelby? The cry echoes through my mind as I frantically push against the barriers of my mind and try to find her.
Xandra!
Oh, thank the goddess. She’s still alive. That means someone else is dead, which is awful, but at least I haven’t lost Shelby. Not yet anyway.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” My aunt is watching me closely, her eyes gone narrow and night-glow in the dim light.
“No, thank you.”
She’s acting so normal, so civilized, that I don’t know where to start. How do I go about asking my mother’s twin sister—my favorite aunt—and the most powerful healer in my clan what turned her into a murderous bitch?
“Well, come sit down, then.”
Sitting is the last thing I want to do right now, but I follow her into the living room. As I do, a spatter of blood on the rug catches my eye. My stomach pitches and rolls.
Tsura is in front of me, so she can’t see what I’m looking at. I blink, stare harder as I try to convince myself that I’m wrong. That it’s not blood. But it is. It’s real and so is this. I just don’t know why.
And that’s the question I end up asking her as she settles herself on the sofa. A million thoughts are floating around in my head, but only one word comes out. “Why?”
I expect excuses, prevarications, but my aunt surprises me again. She looks me straight in the eye and says, “Because close doesn’t count.”
It’s so not what I was expecting to hear—though I should have been, obviously—that I stare at her for long seconds before asking, “What does that even mean?”
“You of all people should know, Xandra. Aren’t you second in line for the throne behind Donovan?”
I’m totally confused now, but I answer anyway. “Yes.” Thank the goddess. Being queen is not something I’ve ever wanted.
“That’s the position that I occupied for years. Second in line to the throne. Second best to my beautiful, talented sister.”
“You’re identical twins.”
“Yes. And I was born first. That throne should have been mine. It would have been mine if not for the archaic rules of inheritance this coven is governed by.”
I don’t bother pointing out that most thrones are inherited through some archaic laws—Ipswitch’s throne is no different from a hundred others. But I don’t want to push her completely around the bend, no matter that it seems she’s already there.
“So you kidnap a little girl? You kill four Councilors? How does that get you the Ipswitch throne?”
She doesn’t answer right away, but there’s something about the way she looks at me that makes the last puzzle piece snap into place. “You’re the one who put out those bombs. You tried to kill all of us.”
Again, she doesn’t answer. But then she doesn’t have to. The horror of everything she’s done sweeps through me and I want to scream. Hannah. Sweet, gentle Hannah is dead because of her.
I leap to my feet, prepared to do I don’t know what, but before I can so much as lift a hand, a tremendous force knocks me off my feet and slams me to the ground. I lie there, staring up at Tsura, who is standing now, towering over me—her chest heaving and hands out in front of her.
Even though I can see it in every line of her body, in every breath she takes, it still takes me a moment to understand. My aunt, whose only magic is the soft, selfless art of healing, is long gone. In her place is this creature, bloated with its own power and sense of self-importance.
“Why?” I ask again. Although I’m not really looking for a reason. Not anymore. Because there is no reason, at least none that doesn’t speak of a life of bitterness and jealousy compounded by the kind of corruption that only comes from throwing oneself headfirst into darkness.
Tsura’s eyes harden at the question, her face frozen in a mask I’ve never seen from her before. But then her lips curl upward and she hisses, “Because I can.”
She extends a hand toward me, her mouth moving rapidly in a spell I have no hope of comprehending. Lightning dances across her fingertips as she gathers the power, condenses it, and I brace myself as I scramble to my feet. I don’t know if I can fight her, but I know that I don’t want to die lying on the floor staring up at her.
Electricity is arcing through the room now, dancing across the ceiling and skimming down the walls. It feels like it’s going to blow up at any second and I only pray that it doesn’t take the whole house—and Shelby—with it when it goes.
Tsura tosses her head back, lifts her arms above her head, and screams the last few words of the spell. I dive for the couch, hoping to get behind it before she lets loose all that power, but I’m a few seconds too late. With a shout of triumph, she lets the electricity loose—all of it headed straight for me.
I brace myself for the hit, but it never comes. One second I’m leaping toward the back of the couch and the next the electricity slams into something in midair and dissipates in an instant—the way fire winks out in a vacuum.
Tsura screams—this time in outrage—and we turn in time to watch Declan stride into the room.
Tsura howls, starts spinning a spell even as she leaps across the room at him. Terror, rage, determination explode through me—it’s been less than a day since Declan was nearly burned alive because of her. He may look fine, standing there, but I don’t believe he is fine. Not yet. And there is no way that bitch is taking anyone else from me. And certainly not Declan.
But my powers—seeing the dead, connecting with them—don’t lend themselves to this kind of magical showdown. I have nothing to hurl at her, no spell to stop her in her tracks. So, in the end, I do the only thing I can. I grab one of the heavy, stained glass lamps off an end table and leap after her.
She’s already attacking Declan, and though he manages to dodge her assault, I know it’s only a matter of time before something gets through. Tsura has the power of four Councilors running through her veins; their magic is sparking so violently inside her that it’s miraculous that she can even contain it.
Declan sends some of his own power back at her, and she’s not fast enough to get around it. I gasp as the blast hits, and I wait, expecting to see her stumble. Or fall. Declan packs a powerful punch and I can’t imagine anyone standing up under a full assault from him. But Tsura merely latches onto the power he exudes, and pulls it into herself.
That’s when I know for sure that he’s holding back—either because he’s too weak or because he doesn’t want to hurt my aunt, doesn’t want to hurt me. I want to scream at him to finish her, that this power-crazed woman in front of me bears no resemblance to the woman I knew in my childhood. But it’s too late, there’s too much going on. Already, I can see her preparing to turn that added breadth of power back on Declan.
I leap through the air, brandishing the lamp like a baseball bat, and crash it into the back of her skull with every ounce of rage and strength I have inside me.
Tsura drops like a stone.
For long seconds, I can’t believe it. I stand over her, lamp at the ready, prepared to beat her to death at the smallest provocation. But she doesn’t move, and eventually I allow Declan to pull the lamp from my numb hands.
I stand there, staring down at her, and feel a darkness take over me in full force. I want to injure her, to kill her, to rip her limb from limb for what she’s done to my family and to Shelby. I don’t give a shit about the Councilors and am not about to pretend that I do, but Hannah? Rachael? Declan? My father? I want nothing more than to make sure that she never gets the chance to do this again.