Heart of Vengeance (Alice Worth #6) - Lisa Edmonds Page 0,143

and now there was nothing between Typhon going topside with Mariela but Daisy and me.

If we were topside, I could use my air and earth magic to conduct the lightning, as I’d done on a rooftop to take out my aunt Catherine when she tried to burn down a condo to get at a rival cabal. Down here, my air magic didn’t respond to the power of the lightning, and my earth magic tingled only a little. My dark magic, however, surged along with the lightning.

I caught movement out of the corner of my eye: Esme, trying to get up, despite her terrible wounds. She let out another piercing cry of pain. Daisy shredded any creature that came near them, but more emerged from the ground. Soon we’d be completely overrun.

If I was going down, I was going down swinging.

I dropped my shields and reached for the dark power in the creatures around us. With my magic, I pulled all their death energy into myself, sucking it from their bodies as if I was taking a huge breath of the foulest, dankest, most poisonous air.

These were creatures of the Darkness. That darkness, tinged with the primordial power of Chaos, filled me with the most horrible and sickening magic I’d ever known. The knot in my stomach swelled and hardened.

With shrieks and wails, the creatures fell, their bodies shriveling. Typhon roared and the ground shook.

Lightning burst overhead. In the distance, I spotted a huge, black form silhouetted against the sky, headed our way. When the lightning faded, I lost sight of the creature. Whether it was friend or foe, I had no idea, but I’d have to deal with it later.

Full of dark power and death magic, I reached out with my now almost-black air magic and seized the power of the storm. I expected pain, since every time I’d conducted the power of storms or ley lines it was excruciating. Instead, I felt only enormous power—and grief for Esme, who lay unmoving. Stay with me, little dragon.

Ronan was right at Typhon’s feet. If I hit the giant with a bolt, I might fry Ronan to a crisp.

“Hey, you big idiot!” I shouted at Typhon. I didn’t know if he understood, so I flapped my arms and made chicken sounds, which seemed to be a universal form of communication. “Big ugly idiot, come get me!”

He roared and lumbered in my direction.

“Stop!” Mariela screamed. Whether she was talking to Typhon or me, I wasn’t sure. And I didn’t care.

I formed the power of the storm into a massive bolt, one larger than any I’d ever attempted to wield before. Tiny threads of lightning sparked across my skin. Daisy crouched protectively over Esme.

With a scream, I brought the bolt down on Typhon’s head. The resulting thunderclap was louder and more powerful than two trains colliding.

The shockwave sent me flying. I landed hard on a pile of hot dirt and ash near one of the holes the creatures had made coming up through the ground. Daisy had protected Esme, and Lucy still lay in the circle I’d made for her. She didn’t move, but she was breathing. Probably unconscious.

I staggered to my feet. Typhon lay on the ground, black smoke curling up from his body and chunks of his head and left side missing. He wasn’t dead, but he was at least down—for now. The snakes that formed his body writhed and hissed and spat in fury.

A powerful blood magic spell hit me from the side and bounced off. The sensation was like being struck with a huge rubber ball. I staggered. Warm magic that smelled like parchment flared: Carly’s Return to Sender spell, held in the amulet in my pocket.

The spell Mariela had thrown at me rebounded and hit her square in the chest. I expected it to dissolve against her protection spells, but she must have used black magic. It went through her protection spells like they weren’t even there.

Mariela screamed.

She screamed as it stripped off her skin, screamed as it ate away at her bones, and was still screaming when she collapsed to the rocky ground in a bloody pile of clothing and liquifying flesh. She finally stopped screaming when her eyes dissolved and ran out of their sockets. In seconds, her body was nothing but blood and bits of blackened flesh.

I put my hands on my knees and took a shuddering breath.

Mariela’s death didn’t feel like justice, and it sure as hell wasn’t a cause for celebration. Without her to