Blackstorm by Gaja J. Kos

Author:Gaja J. Kos [Kos, Gaja J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boris Kos

Chapter 14

One second I saw Alin, his face a mask of fury, beautiful yet cruel at once. The next, blue fire shot from his palms, growing until there was nothing but that flaming, endless azure where he had stood, the wild embers tipped with blinding white. The gleam of pure, undiluted power—demon fire—spread through the entire bar, engulfing every body and saturating every atom of air until I felt his presence on my tongue, my skin—even my mind.

Instinctively, my eyelids fluttered shut in an attempt to protect myself from the brightness of Alin’s magic. I was wrapped in a blaze of power unlike anything I’d ever experienced before, but when a gentle wind brushed against my heated cheeks and swept down my limbs, I couldn’t seek refuge behind the thin veil of darkness any longer.

I opened my eyes and gasped.

The Night Hag was doused in ethereal blue, the shapes of objects and people cutting through the flair, reminding me of the wispy silhouettes that made up the Shadow World—yet not. Because there was a kind of beauty to this almost translucent reality, a lightness that stole my breath away and made it impossible not to admire what I saw.

What I felt.

I was kneeling in a storm of untouched energy.

It lapped at my skin in soothing, almost loving caresses, but it didn’t extend the same courtesy to the rest.

Screams broke through the haunting serenity of the display, the thugs arching their backs, twisting as if they wanted to exorcise the power from their flesh. But it was too late. They were already one, the seam between them and the undulating, brilliant blue without weaknesses. Without cracks.

Somehow, I could feel Alin’s power irradiating every atom of who they were, leaving only me, Ilya, and those two werewolves loyal to Alin untouched.

I didn’t know how much time had passed as I walked that thin line between fear and admiration, but the screams had stopped, leaving the bar eerily quiet. And when Alin’s power subsided, all that was left were more dead bodies, joining the fallen on the ground.

For a long moment, no one said a thing. Even Ilya seemed shaken, his warm complexion pale and clashing oddly with the brilliant gold of his hair. Then footsteps sounded from the street, and several figures emerged from behind Alin, sympathetic curses leaving their lips as their gazes fell on the carnage.

The new arrivals seemed to break the spell on Ilya. He reached them in three carefully placed strides to avoid the piles of bodies—bodies the men were already starting to clear away like yesterday’s trash, without a second’s worth of hesitation.

My stomach tightened at the thought, and as my eyes fell on the cut-up corpse lying just a few feet away, something inside me snapped. Violent shivers gripped my limbs, a helpless groan that just might have been a cry tearing itself from my lips.

I’d killed a man.

I’d slashed someone’s throat, carved out his stomach, and pumped him full of magic that ate his flesh from the inside out.

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