Strength (Curse of the Gods #4)(29)

Well, it did make sense that he’d be the one to question it. I lifted both of my hands then, letting that whirl of energy free, pushing it out further from inside of me. The panteras had tried to teach me about harnessing my energy. I hadn’t quite understood what they meant. But I did now. The moment those flames roared around me, I knew the reason my power had been locked away since I awoke undead. It was fear. Ever since my fire started hurting people, like Evie, I had feared it. And it seemed that now I had the strength to keep it locked down if I wanted to.

Which I no longer did.

I was going to show them who they were messing with.

As I shifted forward, my boot got caught in the groove again, sending me catapulting forwards off the table.

“Willa!” Yael roared.

He had reached for me, but my clothing slipped through his grip. My back slammed into the cool marble, and I let out a deep groan.

Yael got to me in a heartbeat. “Kill the flames,” he growled.

What? My head was fuzzy from the hit, and I couldn’t figure out what flames he meant. The marble was cool, nothing was burning me. As my head cleared, the flickering reds, oranges, and blues around me came into clear focus. I jerked upright, finding myself half-sprawled across the flame circle I’d created.

Yael attempted to grab me again—his arm looked to be burning as he reached into the fire.

“No!” I shouted, stumbling to my feet, shaking off the disorientation. I tried to push him back, only he wouldn’t move an inch. Instead he wrapped a hand around my wrist and pulled me with such force that I smashed into his chest.

He held me for a beat before he started to run his hands across me, patting every part of my body like I was on fire, even though not a single inch of me burned.

“I’m fine!” I yelled, still disorientated. I scrambled for Yael’s hand, tears already pooling in my eyes at the sight of the red, weeping skin across his forearm and palm. “I am so sorry,” I cried.

“It’s fine, Will.” His voice was nothing more than a gravelled rasp. He was upset. That was very clear. Still gently holding his hand, I lifted my eyes to his.

“How did you do that?” he asked, the look on his face like none I’d ever seen before. “I’ve never felt flames like that.”

I shrugged, trying to clear my throat enough to talk. “I … I don’t know. It didn’t feel like anything to me. Maybe because I created it …”

He shook his head, but before he could answer, a shout had me spinning around.

“Willa!”

The other Abcurses were standing at the edge of the fire, their expressions very much like Yael’s. The flames were still strong and high, separating us. Concentrating through my emotional breakdown, I tried to will the fire away, to suck the energy back inside. It took me more than a few clicks, the effort almost draining me. Apparently, I was better at starting the destruction than I was at ending it.

The moment the circle faded away, they were surrounding me, hands pulling me close. I closed my eyes and buried my face in someone’s chest.

“Yael,” I half-sobbed. “He needs a healer.”

I didn’t look up as whoever held me started to walk, but the silence around us was deafening. I didn’t hear a single whisper, or even any evidence of breathing. Maybe everyone had gone.

Shifting my head to the side, I peeked out through blurry, tear-filled eyes. Dozens of faces stared back. No one had moved. But they sure were staring hard as we strode past. I could see Rome and Aros on my right, and I was thinking it was Coen that held me, judging by the way we towered over everyone else.

By the time I managed to get myself together enough to want to walk on my own, we were in another expansive common area: I was carried through a kitchen, several small, intimate dining rooms, and huge marble-lined pool. Eventually, we ended up in a sprawling area of comfortable chairs and small, contained firepits, covered in ornate, carved metalwork.

“Out!” I heard Siret shout. “If we see your faces again tonight, you won’t have to worry about ever becoming gods!”

I was on my feet now, Coen keeping one hand on my back. I tilted my head around him in time to catch sight of the Abcurses’ five female students—all shooting me death glares as they scurried toward the main door. Siret closed it forcefully after them.

Now that the interlopers were gone, I hurried over to Yael. His bronze skin had a worrying pallor about it, and I sucked in a few ragged breaths. “Where is the healer?” I asked, my attention locked on those beautiful green eyes of his. His face was relaxed despite the paleness—he didn’t seem worried. But I could tell he was in a lot of pain.

“They’ll be here shortly, but there is no point,” Siret told me. “No mortal could heal a burn like that.”

I was already shaking my head. “That can’t be right. What about an immortal then? You guys must have healers. You get hurt, right?”

There was a knock on the door then, and before anyone could call out, it swung open and a god strolled casually in. He wore bright yellow robes.

“Thought you might need a healer,” the man drawled. “I waylaid the sol who was hurrying here, mostly because sols are useless little creatures when it comes to healing.”

Definitely a god. Attitude and all.

“Lancaster. Thanks for stopping by.” Coen gave him a nod.