Page 157 of Stone Temptation

“I will find a way to destroy you, Ocean.”

“What—”

“I’m not here to provide you with information,” she snapped. “You already know enough. All you have to understand is that you will fail. My power slips through the cracks already, spreading as it should. I will be free to show you the true force of it soon. You will be mine, and then you will be for the fishes.”

I made myself taller, puffing my chest up. “However I’m supposed to stop you, I’ll do it. This will land on my side of the coin.”

“Get out.”

A blast of hot air sent me back into Asher’s arms just as he landed at the lighthouse, a swarm of red motes around us, as if there by fate. To give me the clarity I’d been seeking on the missing piece of the story.

I could destroy the motes.

“Luke? You’re back?”

“I’m back,” I answered the gargoyle, my focus on the particles.

“What happened?”

I narrowed my gaze at the sparkly crimson masters of pain and wonder. Held out my hands, beckoning them to me. They flashed, trying to float away.

“Nowhere to run,” I said, the black hole to their stars.

They came to me, caught in a vacuum. Resistant little bastards, but weak against me.

“The pupil has slain the master,” I said.

This always happened, didn’t it? The bad guy got too cocky, too powerful, believing in their own invincibility before the finale tripped them up. Hard. The motes made me, messing up. Dooming themselves.

If only they’d know when too much was, well, too much.

They stuck to me as if I were a mote catcher. They glittered across my skin like angry, pretty pimples. I felt them trying to pull free, almost heard their pleas for mercy.

My power kicked in, absorbing them into me as I normally would. Filling up on their magic, feeling it deep in my veins and bones. But this time, things changed.

“Luke?”

The sweet scent of decay attacked my senses, bringing back another swell of nausea. Worse this time, born from rot in my core. The motes died one by one, every death a dagger plunging into my flesh.

Oh, God.

I fell to my knees, bones making a sickening crack on the concrete. My lungs struggled to work, heart pounding in my ears. The nausea intensified, potent death slithering like an army of slugs. Reaching every organ, dragging me into a pit of sickness and decay.

“Luke!” Asher knelt beside me, his hand on my spine. “I’m here.”

I retched twice, the third heave bringing a tsunami of vomit up my throat. Tar-like ooze gushed out of me, burning my mouth, leaving behind the nasty taste of oil.

I brought up more and more and more, begging for unconsciousness, tears streaming from my eyes. If I passed out, I wouldn’t have to endure the agony in my guts, or the world spinning around me.

Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.

“Easy, Luke. Easy.” The gargoyle kept on stroking my back, my anchor in this storm.

After several minutes passed, the vomiting finally stopped. The motes were clear of my system, a puddle before me. The nausea eased, my body returning to some sort of normal.

“I feel hungover,” I finally managed to speak.

Thankfully, I didn’t pass out. In fact, my strength slowly started to return.

---