Storm Surge (42 page)
A little bemused over Scott’s staring, I headed towards the register, reaching into my pocket for my wallet.
The lights went out.
“Oh my,” the cashier murmured.
“Again? Really? What’s this, the fourth outage this week?” Scott cursed, and I heard him bump into one of the display tables nearby.
“Fifth,” the woman behind the register corrected. “You’re cursed, Scott. It’s always on your shift! The power will be back on in a minute. Sorry about this, ma’am.”
“No problem,” I replied, staring up at the ceiling. I could feel the residual energy in the lights as tendrils of heat seeped into my skull. If I wanted, I suspected I could route my power through the floor and light the place up.
I probably had enough strength to light the entire mall. I concentrated on my cell phone, focusing my will on it. I wasn’t going to break anything, not even a single light. I definitely wasn’t going to light up the entire mall.
No one would learn the truth about me.
I clutched the book, drumming my fingers against the dust jacket. Someone giggled nervously in the darkness. A cell phone glowed on the other side of the store.
“You know, if you have exact change, I can do the sale manually,” the cashier offered. “I wonder why the generator—”
A high-pitched sound sent shivers up and down my spine. For a moment, all I could do was freeze. Something—someone?—screamed. At least, I thought it was a scream; there was nothing
human
about the hair-raising shriek.
“Jesus Christ!” Scott’s voice sounded weak. “What wa—”
The wet, dull crunch of breaking bones silenced Scott’s voice. For a moment, I wasn’t in the bookstore, but in my twin’s car, reliving the moment I had crashed through a guardrail into a ravine. My leg, my arm, and my shoulder had made similar sounds before my screams had drowned them out.
My breath caught in my throat.
The splat of something wet hitting the floor nearby freed me from the nightmare of the past. The stench of fresh blood hit me hard. Another stench clogged my nose. I gagged, recoiling a step.
Warmth dripped down my face.
“S-scott?” the cashier gasped out. There was no answer. “Scott? Scott, damn it all, this isn’t funny.”
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The noise came from nearby, so close I feared I could reach out and touch the source. With a thought and murmured word, I severed the connection to my phone.
Silence.
I tightened my grip on the book, hugging it to my chest. At home, I would have had one of my focal stones to work with, allowing me better control of my powers. At home, there wouldn’t have been witnesses. If I turned the lights in the store on, I’d be found out.
Then I’d be killed.
“Scott!” The cashier’s voice rose in pitch.
Scott didn’t answer.
“Come on, Scott. This isn’t funny anymore,” the cashier whispered, her voice trembling.
I swallowed back my own fear and drew several deep breaths. The cashier had said the lights would come back on in a minute.
With a shudder, I closed my eyes. I couldn’t wait that long. Something had happened to Scott.
The lights flickered on, dimly illuminating the bookstore as I started to speak a word that would unleash my power. As I choked back the first syllable, my skin tingled as I suppressed the energy, keeping it from surging into the electronics nearby.
Scott was gone. Squinting in the faint lighting, I looked for the young employee. I was certain I had heard him nearby, but there was no sign of him.
Across the counter from me, the cashier shrieked, holding one hand to her mouth while pointing at the floor in front of me. “Oh god. Scott!”
I looked down. The pale lump on the ground, splattered in crimson, wasn’t large enough to be a human. It was too misshapen, colored in gray and red instead of flesh tones. I stared, unable to tear my gaze away.
With a flicker and a surge of electricity, the lights flared to full brightness.
Something warm and wet dripped down from the ceiling. My hand trembled as I reached up and touched my cheek. The tips of my fingers came away red with blood. Crimson stained the floor, the books, the tables, and had splattered on the ceiling.
I had been right. The shape on the floor was too small to be a person.
It was only part of one—a part of Scott.
The occult had dabbled with me, but it had ripped him to pieces.
Blaise tries to act like a good human, but someone always manages to ruin things for him. When the Emperor’s most powerful weapon is stolen and its human vessel is kidnapped from the Arena, Blaise must choose between meddling in the affairs of mortals or remaining true to his duty.
To make matters worse, the Archbishop has betrayed the church and God by giving the Emperor the second piece of the Triad, the Heart of God. Should Blaise stand idle and leave the mortals to their own devices, the people of Erelith won’t just lose their lives: Their souls will be destroyed by a power that was never meant to fall into mortal hands.
If Blaise can find the Eye of God, he might be able to save the humans from themselves. Unfortunately, his only hope for success lies in the hands of a slave who wants nothing more than to die. If Blaise can’t save Terin and enlist his help, the Erelith Empire will fall.
