The Deck of Omens (The Devouring Gray #2) - Christine Lynn Herman Page 0,15
brother, the Deck of Omens clutched in one hand. The sunlight turned her ash-blond hair nearly white, illuminated the medallion that hung at the neck beneath her champagne-colored silken blazer.
“May?” Justin’s voice was raw. “What are you doing here?”
Betrayal surged through Harper, hot and sharp. She’d been a fool to think that she could arrange a meeting with a Hawthorne. She stumbled backward, into the safety of the trees.
“You promised to come alone,” she said, swiveling her head to glare at Justin.
“I did.” He looked helplessly at May, then at Harper. “Please, you have to believe me, I didn’t know she was there.”
Harper hesitated. Justin looked genuinely distraught. But then, she’d just been thinking about what a good liar he was. “So you expect me to believe she was spying on us?”
“Yeah! Because she was!”
“With good reason, apparently.” May shook her head, eyeing Harper with visible mistrust. “You attacked our tree. A direct provocation isn’t something we can just ignore. You’re lucky we haven’t formally declared war.”
“May,” Justin said. “You can’t just throw around a word like war?—”
“She already did,” Harper said. “Look, May, you should just leave. Justin and I were doing a fine job of figuring this out on our own. You’re only making things worse.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” May crossed her arms. “Justin’s not very good at critical thinking when it comes to you.”
“Hey!” Justin glared at her.
But Harper, staring at May, realized that she was the one with the upper hand here. Because Violet might not have told her about Justin, but she still knew May had turned on her mother, too.
“I know what you did to help Violet,” she said softly, enjoying the unease flickering across May’s face. “You’re not the perfect Hawthorne they all think you are.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” May said roughly.
“I know your family made my life a living hell for years. And I know that I was still willing to try to compromise with you?—but since you clearly think so little of me, I’m not so willing anymore.”
May advanced toward her, that unease morphing into rage. Justin grabbed her arm, but she shrugged it away.
“Hey,” he said uselessly. “You really shouldn’t fight each other?—”
But it was a bit late for that.
Harper had only seconds left before May would be upon her. The weight of her scabbard was comforting, made her glad she’d come here ready for a fight. But the truth was, she didn’t need a sword anymore to make someone regret attacking her.
She reached for the tree nearest to her, laid her palm flat against it, and pushed with all of her collective rage.
The stone spread across the trunk immediately, stiffening the wood and turning it red-brown. But it didn’t stop there. Birds scattered, alarmed, as the stone spread across the forest floor, rustling beneath the leaves and snaking up the trees nearby. Harper could feel her power radiating through all of her, not just her hand; she was suddenly dizzy with it, her stomach churning with the knowledge that this was her; she was doing this. She tried to remove her hand from the trunk, satisfied by the sight of May frozen to the spot, staring apprehensively at the stone spreading toward her. But her palm was glued to the tree.
Power was still surging through her, stronger now, too strong, and Harper gasped for control, at last wresting her hand away.
She shuddered, swaying, but was determined not to show any weakness.
“I’m leaving,” she said coldly, doing her best to look formidable. “Don’t come any closer.”
She held it together for as long as she could, hustling through the forest until she was long out of earshot. Then she tumbled to the ground and retched. Nothing came up, but she still felt ill, her body convulsing with exhaustion. Harper groaned, wiped her mouth, and turned?—to see that, of course, Justin Hawthorne had followed her.
“Shit,” she hissed, rising to her feet. “Your sister was right about your critical thinking. Don’t you ever listen?”
He stepped forward, his face grim. “You’re shaking. Let me help you?—”
“As if I could trust you after what just happened.” She glanced around, waiting for May to emerge, but Justin shook his head.
“She’s not following us this time. I promise. Harper?—”
She swayed, and Justin’s arm swept around her back, carefully lowering her to the forest floor and resting her against a tree trunk. His hands were gentle against the fabric of her jean jacket, and for a moment he was close enough for her to see the