Charity stared at Dillon for a beat, her heart in pieces, her nerves shot, her life in upheaval.
I know where your mother is.
Was that how Vlad knew Charity’s real father wasn’t Walt? And if so, did he have proof of her paternity? He was sure smug as hell—that had come through loud and clear…
Warmth trickled through her middle, then turned into a gush of liquid heat to her limbs. Lava bubbled up from that place deep inside her, followed by a surge of heat so great that she momentarily lost her sight. The day returned, blotchy and overexposed. Her head felt light and electricity sizzled every inch of her flesh.
Devon’s face snapped toward her.
“Not this time,” Dale growled, springing toward Devon, following through on what must’ve been a challenge.
The movement seemed so slow.
“Where is my sword?” Charity asked distractedly. Dillon jogged backward.
I don’t need a sword.
She shoved a hand through the air. Electricity popped and crackled around her. Green surrounded Dale as he prepared to change, but a spark flared to life next to him and exploded in a silent shock wave of power.
Electric fire scored his skin. His body flew to the side, his limbs windmilling, his eyes as big as the world. He smacked into a tree and fell to the ground in a heap.
Cole had barely turned toward her, violence in his eyes, before she whipped her hand his way.
Magic followed the path set by her hand—a small spark appeared next to the were-yeti’s mighty frame, then exploded in a concussion of air so strong it knocked his feet off the ground. Unlike Dale, he didn’t move as he soared through the air. He hit one of the vans, dented it, grunted, and landed on his feet. Only his feet weren’t prepared to hold him.
His hands slapped the ground, followed by his face and then his body. He groaned loudly.
Charity was already moving.
Fire ate her alive. It scratched across her spine and punched her vital organs. She jogged out to the middle of the street, thrumming with the need for violence. Wanting to blow this whole neighborhood sky-high. A song drifted on the breeze, but it was off-key. Wrong, somehow. Intense agony screamed through her body, making her vision waver again, making her knees weak.
She ignored it.
The demon changed course, ambling toward her.
It had been sent for her. One day, she would find its maker and enact her revenge. For now, she’d take out the messenger.
She turned to face the creature then bent, falling into the depths of her magic. Floating on top of it. Sinking below the surface.
The sky sparkled brighter, and the air filled with a noise like a bug zapper. The power was pounding at her, thrashing her from the inside out, and she’d accidentally called on the wrong magic. Her sun flares only worked on vampires.
She pushed her hands forward. Balls of light condensed in her palms, spitting electricity and fire, and shot toward the demon. They hit it center mass, soaking into its middle before exploding. Body parts flew up and out, arcing through the sky before splatting against the cracked and pockmarked road.
Still her power climbed, an internal explosion blazing across her bones. Her skin felt stretched. Her jaw ached from clenching it against the pain.
“Charity.”
Her name sounded distorted, as off and wrong as that loud tune shrieking through the day.
“Charity!”
The urgency in the speaker’s voice pulled her out from under the pounding waves of magic. A different sort of magic washed over her, soothing and cool.
“Come back to me, Charity.”
The fear in those words hit her first. Then the timbre, so familiar.
The soothing magic pulled her out of the fog. She blinked against the glare of the day, the black receding from her field of vision.
Devon stood five feet from her, his expression one of desperate determination. Pain tightened the skin around his eyes and made a vein jump over his clenched jaw.
“It’s over,” he said, his next step toward her costing him obvious effort. “Let’s calm down. Let’s slow it down.”
“It hurts, Devon,” she admitted, the act of forcing her magic down tearing her apart. “It’s hurting you.”
“Don’t worry about me. This is nothing.” His next step came slow, like he was walking through water. “Calm down with me. Let me get to you.”
A horn blared behind them.
Without thinking, Charity spun. A blast of magic so potent it crackled like a lightning bolt exploded next to the oncoming vehicle. The metal dented. The car rocked up on two wheels before slamming back down. The driver’s eyes rounded as she reached for the glove box. Her door opened and a gun came up.
“Andy,” Devon yelled. “Macy.”
“On it.” Andy raced forward.
“Yup.” Macy followed closely behind.
They stood in the line of fire between Charity and the woman who clearly did not plan to take shit, regardless of whether it was magical.