Binding the Shadows (Arcadia Bell) - By Jenn Bennett Page 0,63

Something was cool against my skin. It started around my neck and washed over my breasts . . . my stomach. Like someone had spilled a cold drink down my shirt. He felt it too. His arm jerked away, as if he’d been burned.

He withdrew. Dropped his hold on me completely and backed up a step. I could see the blue pinpoint of light beyond him, overlapping where his heart beat inside his chest. And I probably should’ve been worried when the blue changed to bright silver, but I was distracted.

That thing happened again. Just like in Tambuku: something ran down my leg. Something cold and thick and smooth.

The elevator ground to halt, startling me out of my fear. Darren, too. His blue halo swirled as he shook his head like a dog that had just emerged from a rainstorm. He lunged at me again. Both hands were on my throat now. And any fear or doubt I’d been harboring just went up in smoke. I emptied my mind and focused on the now-silver dot. Internally spoke what I wanted, loud and clear.

Get off.

His big body flew backward. Slammed into the elevator doors. A second later, the doors opened. He lost his balance and fell outside, landing on his back. I felt the impact in my soles of my shoes. Felt something else, too—a growing pressure on my leg. Something moved there. My jean leg tightened uncomfortably. It was cutting off the circulation in my thigh. Throbbing. I limped out of the elevator, following Darren’s path as he crab-walked backward into the parking garage.

Before I turned to see what was hurting my leg, Darren reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. He was fumbling with something on the key ring. Pepper spray.

Big trust fund party-boy was going to mace me? Fuck that.

I meant to kick the mace away. That was definitely my intention. But something popped on the back of my leg. The pressure around my thigh released. And then, lightning-quick, instead of my foot, something else smacked the spray canister.

Something that came from behind me.

Something connected to me.

I felt the cool, jagged edges of his keys before they sailed across the garage. Felt them with what? Did my magick solidify and mold itself into some sort of weapon?

Darren shouted—I saw his mouth open and heard the sound in a distant, removed sort of way through the filter of my moon sight. He was on his feet way too fast, towering over me again. He had something else in his hand and was highly pissed off. His arm lifted. Metal glinted between his whitened knuckles. A pocketknife.

The jerk was going to stab me.

Anger and Heka got jumbled up inside me. Seethed. Boiled. Raged. I couldn’t even make any rational, focused thoughts. All I could do was let it out before I went crazy with it.

Energy ebbed from me. A gush of Heka. It reached out for something—moon energy, perhaps—and came back like a boomerang, charged and ready. I made no conscious decision about what to do with it. I just unleashed it.

A cloud of silver swirled around me. I pushed it out across Darren, expanding it. There was nothing but the fog. I was creating it, spinning it . . . and it was part of me. He was a bug on my web. I spun the fog around him, encasing him in tight circles of silver smoke.

I felt Darren’s heart pounding furiously, and his life draining away. I’m not sure how I felt it, but it was as if I had my hands on him and was measuring his pulse beneath my fingers. I was strangling him with the fog.

I was going to kill him.

The thing was, for a moment, I wasn’t even sure if I cared. God help me, but I think I almost wanted to kill him. And then some tiny voice of reason raised its hand inside me and waved—as if to say, You sure you want to go this far?

I didn’t.

Straining, I tried to let go of the magick. It was so hard. Unnatural, even. But I kept trying, and my grip on Darren slackened. I felt him fall away and drop to the ground. The dark overlay of the moon magick lifted. My normal sight returned. I could hear a car driving on the parking level above us. It was gone. I’d done it. Pushed it away.

Maybe I really could control it.

And I never heard my mother. Not once. No whispering, no