The Burning Shadow (Origin 2)

Not going to happen.

Muscles flexed, and her arms gave out. I slammed her into the mirror face-first.

“Not cool.” She spit blood as I jerked her back. “You’re making a mistake. Huge mis—”

She kicked back, catching me in the stomach. I stumbled back a step, catching myself. She spun toward me, her body lifting off the floor as red-tinged light-laced shadows spilled out from her, wrapping around her legs, climbing up the length of her body.

She became a shadow—a shadow that burned.

Springing forward, I snatched the obsidian blade off the floor. The stone was red-hot in my hand as I jumped up onto the sink behind her. I pivoted and grabbed her ponytail, yanking her head back.

“How—?” she gasped, the shadows over her chest.

“I’m not like you.”

Then I slammed the blade into the center of her head, piercing tissue and bone.

Her mouth dropped open, but no sound came out as she fell forward, her body flickering between smoke and light.

She was dead before she hit the floor, a pale, sunken body in a pool of inky darkness.

I hopped down from the sink, wiping the blood off the blade onto my jeans. Then I lifted my other hand, running my fingers through my hair, smoothing the strands as I turned to the shattered mirror.

I saw myself.

I saw my eyes, and the irises were black, the pupils were white. I saw—

Like being sucked back in, I slammed back into myself. My consciousness finally woke up and took hold.

Gasping, I jerked back from the mirror and dropped the piece of obsidian. “Oh my God, what did I—?”

I spun around and saw her—saw April with a hole in her head. “Oh God.”

I did that.

I completely recalled doing that. Wasn’t quite sure how, but I totally kicked her ass … and shoved a blade into her head.

And I didn’t feel at all bad about that part.

A logical part of my brain took over. April was dead, and no one could come in here and find me with her. Or possibly find her at all, because that would be bad, really bad.

Because I legit just murdered her and wiped her blood on my jeans. I was swimming in evidence.

Springing into action, I rushed over to the bathroom door and nearly cried out with relief when I saw that it had a lock on the interior. I made sure it was still locked and then raced back to my backpack. I had no idea how much time I had before someone tried to come in here.

Grabbing my phone, I tried Zoe first. She was here and could get to me the fastest, but as the phone rang and she didn’t answer, I realized she probably had it on silent.

“Shit.” I hung up and called Luc as I glanced behind me to where April lay sprawled. Bile crept up the back of my throat. The phone rang once.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” Luc answered. “Or are you just that excited about my surprise? It’s not a Chia Pet, Peaches.”

My knees nearly buckled at the sound of his voice. I held myself up, but I doubled at the waist. “Something bad has happened.”

All traces of humor vanished from his voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, but I … I totally just killed April in the school bathroom, and I don’t know what to do. I called Zoe, but she’s in class and not answering,” I told him in a rush. “And I really killed her, Luc. She’s super-dead, and I can’t leave the bathroom.”

“Why can’t you leave?”

I glanced at the mirror and shuddered. “Something is wrong with me.”

“Tell me which bathroom you’re in.”

I told him where to find me. “Luc, please … please hurry.”

“I’ll be right there.”

Holding the phone to my chest, I squeezed my eyes shut as I leaned against the sink. Luc was fast. He’d be here in minutes, if that, and everything would be okay.

Like he’s always promised.

A sharp burst of pain sliced across my temple, and I almost dropped my phone. Fragmented memories tried to surface—the images I’d seen after April had … What had she done? Opening my eyes, I drew in a shallow breath. She’d hit a button on a key fob.

What had she called them? Cassio Waves? I winced as the throbbing pain stabbed me behind the eyes. Wetness gathered under my nose, and I reached up with a trembling hand to wipe. Red smeared my fingers. My nose was bleeding. I turned back to the mirror, half afraid to see my eyes.

They were normal, plain old brown. Not creepy black and white. Not at all like Sarah’s and April’s. Maybe I’d just imagined it. Something had been—

I saw April’s body in the mirror, lying there.

“Okay,” I whispered, and I swallowed hard. “You did not imagine jack. You jumped on this sink like an assassin and stabbed her in the head.”