Siren Magic by Lucia Ashta

Author:Lucia Ashta [Ashta, Lucia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-20T05:00:00+00:00

13

“They’re not nearly upon us. They’re here!” Fianna shouted. “Call the kid back, old man. There’s no time for him to hide where they won’t find him.”

Panic swept across Irving as it did me, but the “old man” got right to it, shoving the sliding-glass door back open and racing outside with all the agility and strength of youth.

I didn’t know what to do to help. I launched myself to standing, tore at my wings, winced at the sting of it, but then had nothing to do but fidget and frantically scan the room.

The fairies were speaking among themselves, intent on preparing our defense, I hoped, and Naomi had already ignited her powers. A bright green glow surrounded her; sparks the vibrant color of moss crackled across her skin. “Come on, come on,” she muttered.

Breathing became difficult as the moments stretched and neither Irving nor Quinn returned.

“Petunia,” Naomi scolded, looking at nothing in particular. “Get your furry butt over here right now.”

I gaped at the crazy witch. There was no one with a furry butt around.

“Please,” she added, when I hadn’t believed she was familiar with the word, still speaking to the empty air in front of her.

But then the time to figure out the witch and what she could possibly be doing ended with a bang.

A force as strong as the ocean itself pounded against the house. Walls and ceiling thumped. I sucked in a breath and waited to see if it’d all fall in around us.

The house expanded back outward with a terrifying groan and the glass in every window in the sitting room shattered. Glass shards flew everywhere, both inside and out, in an explosion that set my ears to ringing.

I crouched and partially shielded myself with the tea table, spreading my wings along the skin of my back, mostly bare around my sleeveless crop top, to protect it. The teacups rattled and wobbled in large arcs upon their saucers, and the cream pitcher imploded, launching large shards of porcelain and splatters of cream at me.

I screamed, sure no one would hear me over the din, and yanked a wedge-shaped piece of pitcher from my forearm like it was on fire and I had to get it out fast. I couldn’t give myself time to think on it or I’d freak out. The porcelain shard was thick and left a deep, bleeding gash the size of my pinky finger. I grabbed one of the fairies’ discarded cloth napkins, only slightly damp after they’d toweled off following their baths, wrapped it around my forearm and tied it tight with my teeth. There, that was all I could do, and I was certain it was to be the least of my problems.

I felt the next attack coming as if the undertow of the sea were sucking back only to crest forward with more force. I whimpered and curled into the smallest shape I could, wrapping my wings around myself to also encompass most of my bare legs. Maybe that wasn’t smart; maybe the next blast would rent my wings from my back.

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