What Fate Portends by Clara Coulson

Author:Clara Coulson [Coulson, Clara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knite and Day Publishing

Chapter Twelve

The point of the poker tore through the fabric of my coat and shirt, exposing my skin to the length of the rod as it rocketed past, launched in a powerful javelin toss by the female elf who’d been thrown through the townhouse window a few minutes prior. The sharp point didn’t pierce me, but it didn’t have to. The mere brush of the metal against my arm dissolved layers of skin, as if I’d been splattered with a strong acid. Pain like white-hot fire exploded through my entire arm, left shoulder, neck, and head.

I dropped the sword, collapsed to my knees, and screamed as I uselessly grasped at the sizzling wound spreading across my arm, blood weeping out, blisters and red sores disfiguring flesh the poker hadn’t even touched. At the rim of the field of inflamed skin, hives started to break out in all directions, crawling up my neck and across my back and down the length of my arm, itching worse than any human allergic reaction ever could, urging me to flay myself raw. It was as if I’d been stung by the most potently venomous creature on the planet.

And my magic couldn’t stand it. Iron was anathema to the very nature of the fae.

The power inside me went wild, devolving into a beast from the dawn of creation, raving and spitting and screeching, clawing through my brain and beating at my skull so hard I swore my head would explode. I desperately tried to maintain control, but the pain of the iron burn was so overwhelming, I couldn’t think straight, and my magic was so riled up, between the injury and the combat spells I’d been overusing, that I started to lose my grip on it. The magic writhed and wrestled with me, demanding I set it free, pounding the gates of my glamours. And as the lead elf bent down and grabbed his sword, preparing to take off my head with a swift blow, my infuriated magic finally got the better of me.

For half a second, I lost control.

That was enough.

My fourth glamour cracked like an egg, and half the mask that concealed my face, my real face, fell away. I whipped my head up and snarled at the lead elf, driven into a rage by my frenzied magic as a tsunami of power rose from within me and threatened to crash out into the world beyond my body, drowning and destroying everything in its path. A hundred million possible spells at my fingertips, ready and aching to annihilate my enemies, the ancient power of the fae rearing its head from a place I’d been desperately hoping to keep it bottled up forever. Power that could…Power that wanted…Power…

The lead elf was staring at me in abject horror. His sword, raised at a sharp angle, didn’t budge from its position. The smug satisfaction that had been budding inside him at the sight of me on my knees, vulnerable, had crumbled to dust and left a deep-seated fear in its wake.

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