Winter Fire (The Witchling #3)(64)

“Good. Tell me.”

“She was with Beck last night. No one knows where, but he showed up a few minutes after she did this morning.”

Dawn’s smile faded. Anger moved through her. She waited.

“Everyone believes she did it, but get this,” he continued, excited. “She did something to Beck. They took him out of her room on a stretcher.”

“What?” Dawn demanded, startled. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“From what I heard, yes. Amber said he fell and hit his head, but a couple of the other girls said they saw Morgan run out of the schoolhouse and Amber was screaming for help.”

Dawn listened intently. The idea of Morgan hurting Beck enraged her. If anyone deserved revenge, it was her, not some carrot-top whore!

“No one knows what happened, really,” Isaac continued. “Anyway, it gave Alexa the opening she needed. We intended to grab Morgan tonight, but they ran into the forest. Alexa grabbed all three.”

“All three.”

“Morgan, Summer, and Biji.”

Alexa’s weak. She didn’t stick to our plan, Bartholomew said.

“Yeah, I know. It’s because she’s still in love with Decker,” Dawn said, frowning. “We can still work with this, right?”

Maybe. It won’t be clean like we intended.

“I can’t not deal with Morgan! You heard Noah. Beck now knows we -”

“Um, are you talking to me?” Isaac asked, confused.

“Sorry. Thinking out loud,” she replied. “So Morgan did something to take out Beck. Any idea what?”

Soul stone.

“What?”

Isaac eyed her. “I didn’t say anything.”

Dawn waved him away and crossed to the window in the living area, concentrating on Bartholomew.

“So you think maybe she used it on him?” she asked.

Or he found it by accident. There’s no way to know.

“It really works.”

As promised.

“This is really going to happen,” she said, a mix of excitement and fear in her gut. “He’ll feel what I do. Finally.”

And more.

“Dawn?” Isaac called.

“One sec. We’re talking about the soul stone.”

“The what?”

Dawn gasped. She wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about it. She faced Isaac, who appeared baffled.

“Never mind,” she said, smiling.

Too late. Bartholomew laughed. You’ve got to take care of him.

“It’s okay,” she said quickly.

Her hand moved outside her control. She glanced own, surprised. She involuntarily gripped a heavy crystal vase. Dawn ordered her hand to put the vase down. It didn’t listen. She was dizzy suddenly, and unconsciousness crept around the edges of her mind. She felt like she was getting ready to sky dive or bungee jump.

Fighting it, she focused on retrieving the vase with her other hand.

Suddenly, her world went completely dark. She was awake but unaware, sitting in the corner of her mind. It was like a cozy closet and she found the place surprisingly peaceful.

But not normal.

She struggled, reaching out to her air magick. Her lungs swam with cold magick that fluttered through the rest of her body. Finally, she yanked free of her mind.

Gasping, Dawn looked around wildly.

I took care of it.

She looked down and almost screamed. At her feet were the remains of Isaac. His head was bashed in beyond recognition. With horror, she saw the vase in her hands still. The clear crystal was bathed in pink and red, like her skin and clothes and the furniture. The couch. Even the ceiling and walls.

“What have you done?” she demanded.

What have you done?

“I didn’t do this!”

Do you see anyone else here?

“Hey, Dawn!” Noah’s voice came through the door.

Her eyes flew up. Dawn felt Bartholomew reclaim her arm. She fought him, unwilling to hurt her brother. The door opened, and she froze.

Noah stood in the doorway, shock on his face.

Bartholomew seized her but only for a second. Dawn threw the vase across the room. The sound of it smashing into the wall jarred her from her mind.

“Stop!” she shouted.

Bartholomew retreated.

“Dawn, what did you do?” Noah managed at last.

“What did I do?” she retorted. Her eyes went to the mess that was Isaac then away quickly. She started crying and hyperventilating, disgusted by what she saw. “He … he came at me. I don’t know … I snapped … N…Noah, I … he was going to … hurt me!” she stammered.

At first, she didn’t think Noah was going to believe her. Dawn cried harder, terrified that her brother, too, might turn on her.

“It’s okay, Dawn,” he said finally. “Go take a shower. I’ll … I’ll figure out what to do about … this.”

Dawn’s heart soared. She was right! Bartholomew was wrong!

“Just … go,” Noah whispered. He was pale and he looked sick. He closed the door behind him. “I’ll take care of this.”

Dawn never loved her brother like she did in that moment. She nodded and stumbled through her tears to her room. The scent and warmth of blood made her vomit. She heaved for a few minutes then tore off the clothing and flung it into a corner. Starting a shower, she hurried into it. Blood turned the water at her feet pink.