Devils with an unreadable look. “I put one bag in each of your rooms.”
“What the fuck?” Karsyn exclaims, and I mentally echo his statement.
What the fuck, indeed.
“It’s a rage spell,” she continues, glancing back down at the hex bag in her hand. “Simple, really. A fang of a snake. Blood of a sinner. Blade of grass blessed by a priestess. And then your hair, Peony, sealing it all in.”
“A rage spell?” I can feel myself growing numb. Not cold necessarily. Just…detached, like I’m floating feet above my body and watching the scene unfold with a clinical detachment. That girl with the haunted amber eyes isn’t me. It can’t be. That woman with the pitch-black hair isn’t my mother. No. No. No.
“Even at a young age, you were too powerful,” she continues, tone almost indolent, like she’s having a lazy day around the house. “I knew I needed to contain you, however I could. So, I found four of your classmates you seemed to have a liking for. These hex bags are designed to exacerbate their natural rage and hone it in on you. I used this exact spell for many, many years.”
“What?” Lucas’s voice isn’t cold anymore. It’s shocked. Broken. Confused. There’s a slight hitch to his breathing as he stares at my mother.
“You fucking bitch.” Tears stab my eyes as my hands tremble by my sides. I don’t know if it’s rage or sadness I feel. Hatred or hurt. She’s my mother, and she allowed the four of them to torture me relentlessly, all so I wouldn’t grow more powerful.
“I needed to keep you adequately subdued,” she continues, oblivious to the tsunami of emotions gathering in my head. “And what better way to do that then give you something besides your magic to focus on?”
“You’re crazy,” Cassian whispers, voice hoarse.
“Maybe.” Mother shrugs her shoulders as if she doesn’t give a damn either way. “Or maybe I’m just smart.”
“I tried to kill myself!” The words are a scream, a cry into the abyss where I’m just begging for someone to hear me. To listen. The entire fucking house begins to rattle as my power escapes its confinement. Outside, thunder booms and lightning streaks through the sky. Rain pelts against the windows, demanding entrance, as a large crack appears in the floor. “I tried to fucking kill myself.”
There’s no guilt in her gaze. No pity. It’s colder than even Lucas’s as she regards me with haughty distaste. “I figured that was a possibility when I created the hex—”
“Get the fuck out of my house.” The voice doesn’t come from me, though it’s exactly what I want to say.
Nana appears in the doorway to the kitchen, her entire body shaking. Her face is red and blotchy as if she has been crying, and her violet hair is frazzled, long strands sticking in every direction.
When Mom—I mean, Darlene—makes no move to leave, Nana rushes forward, shoving at her chest.
“Get out of my house. Now!”
Wind whips my long, stringy hair around my face, and the floor begins to shake as Nana’s own power joins mine. More lights begin to shatter in an explosion of glass. I feel strong arms wrap around me protectively, shielding me. The leather visible over my chest allows me to see that it’s Elias.
“Ryan, come!” Darlene stomps towards the door, pausing to wait for the wiry warlock to open it for her. She glances back only once, her eyes a burning brand against my forehead. “I’ll be back later for your decision.”
And then she’s gone.
And I’ve never felt more hollow or alone than I do in that moment.
...
I can’t talk to the guys. Fuck, I can’t even look at them. All I can do is practically shove them out the door, desperate to be alone with my tumultuous thoughts.
Darlene hexed the guys? She was behind their bullying?
My head begins to throb as confusion and pain war for dominance. I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, unable to recognize myself now that my hands are coated red in the name of my revenge. Because these Devils? They weren’t meant to bleed. Not by my hands, at the very least.
How can this be? How can my entire life be flipped on its head in a span of seconds?
I know that the Devils aren’t all sunshine and roses. There’s a darkness to them, one that I recognize in myself. I have no doubt that they’re capable of unspeakable cruelty, but at the same time…
How much of what happened in middle school