The Line (Witching Savannah, #1)(39)

“I’m not so sure,” Abby responded. “The power picks the one it wants. Maybe we should stop and think about this. It could be a sign.”

“Maybe it’s a sign we need to start all over,” Teague called out, pushing his way back to the front of the room.

“Why are you so angry?” I whispered to Maisie. “I thought you didn’t want this.”

She pulled away from me, stepping back a few steps. Then she whipped her hair around and faced me like she was about to pounce, her hands bent into claws. I felt like I was looking at a total stranger. Not someone I had known even before birth. “Because it’s mine!” she hissed back at me. “I’ve spent my whole life preparing for this!”

I shook my head, totally confused. The only reason she wanted to be the anchor was because she thought I might get to be. None of this computed with the sister I thought I knew. “You’ve always had everything. But that isn’t enough for you. Now you want my man. You want my place.” The words came out in quiet but barbed hisses.

“No, Maisie,” I said. “You’re wrong. I just want you to be happy.” I tried to approach her, but she stepped back again.

“Don’t touch me!” she warned, her voice like a slap. I stopped dead in my tracks.

“We’ve never questioned the draw before,” MacGregor ventured tentatively. “I know on the surface this looks a little odd, but…”

“Listen,” Oliver interrupted impatiently. “There’s an easy way to settle this. We’ll have them both go again, separately this time.”

“I second that.” Connor started to step forward, sucking in his stomach and puffing out his chest in one quick move.

“But you ain’t part of this decision.” Abby spun on him. Connor’s admiration for the woman evaporated from his face.

“Then I second it,” Iris stated, moving out from behind her husband’s shadow. “Come on, girls, let’s have a redo.”

I reached over and dropped the red tile back into the bag. I was totally stunned. By the tile. By my sister. I just wanted this day to end.

“No,” I responded. “This is silly. We all know that I’m not the right one to replace Ginny. My presence here is only a formality.” I gave Maisie a sidelong look, trying to find some warmth in her face. “I’m sorry I upset you. I didn’t think you wanted this. Maybe the power thought the same thing. But it’s over. It’s yours.” I turned and started for the door, but Oliver stopped me.

“You all are up to something,” Teague said, shaking a thick finger at my uncle. “You all know the power is through with you Savannah Taylors, and you are doing your best to hide it.”

“Step down, Teague,” his father called out. Resentment flooded Teague’s face, but he obeyed.

Oliver shook his head and then looked at me. “No, Mercy. It has to be official. We can’t have anyone question the choice. It would weaken the line.”

“Okay, Uncle Oliver,” Maisie began in a tone I had never heard come from her before. Her sweet voice had been replaced by ice. Venom seemed to drip from every syllable. “You want to make sure there isn’t a question about who should be the anchor? Fine, let me settle it for you.”

The house filled with an inescapable beating sound, like when you’re holding your breath underwater and you need to rise for air. The pulsing in my head became as loud as thunder in an August storm, and the pressure was unbearable. I felt as if my head were being crushed.

Even the golem had been affected. He lay on the floor, bucking up and down as if he were having a seizure. Everyone except for Maisie put their hands to their ears, but even with covered ears the pulsing continued, growing louder and louder. I realized it wasn’t from an external source—it was coming from within each of us. Ellen screamed and fell to the floor, and I saw blood trickle from her ear. I wanted to run to her side, but I couldn’t move, frozen in place by a gravity that centered on Maisie.

“Maisie!” I shouted, barely able to hear my own voice. “You’re hurting us! Stop!” She looked at me with eyes I did not know, filled with a coldness I could never have imagined. She knew she was hurting us, and she was taking pleasure in our pain—no, not just that, she was gaining strength from it.

The smell of ozone filled the air, and static electricity sizzled all around us. Wisps of blue electric fire jumped from person to person. There was a moment of total silence as Maisie rose up into the air. She levitated toward the ceiling, the short silence broken as stones began to fall from nowhere, pounding on the roof and crashing through the windows like cement raindrops.

Overhead, the pipes burst, sending spurts of water everywhere, and the very foundation of our century-and-a-half-old home, the seat of my family, began to rumble and shake. The room twisted on its foundation and its tortured beams were ripped screaming from their plaster skin.

Maisie clasped her palms together and a roar of fire shot from her to Oliver. The pillowcase in his hand burst into flames, and he dropped it, yelping as his fingers blistered. Maisie held the final tile, the white one she had drawn, up into the air, and it crumbled into a fine dust.

And then it was over. The stones stopped. The house was still and whole. There was no water falling from overhead, and Maisie stood quietly before us. I saw Oliver peer at his hand, which was completely fine, no burns. It was if nothing had ever happened. I realized that in our reality nothing had happened. Maisie had simply opened a window into what could happen, so that we could all peer in, and then she’d shut it off like flipping a switch. The only true victim of the episode was the case of lots, which remained a pile of ashes near Oliver’s feet.