Page 69 of Night of Death and Flowers

“We’ll see,” she snaps, defiance crossing her perfect blue stare, and magic sparks to life inside of me. I must admit to myself that there is likely no other adversary than her who could destroy me.

Just her being alive angers me. I can only imagine what it would feel like to have her hunting me, desperate to annihilate me, having her always near me, on the edge of the darkness.

A shadow uncurls from my fingers, then glides around her throat. “Just remember who you’re talking to. I may not be able to kill you, but do not forget I can hurt those you love.”

She halts, then spins to face me. “You need me.”

“For now.”

We hold our breath in unison, rage swallowing my air until I tear my eyes from her. Finally, she looks at the house and steps away from me.

“Drake,” she whispers as we exit through the tree line.

He stands, his glare latching onto mine the second he spots us, his muscles tense. Tattoos swirl against his olive-skin, and I grin as I watch a depiction unfold of him, tearing out my heart. I would love nothing more than to see him try.

Calista walks to him, then hesitantly brings her hand to his. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere since you ran off.”

I glower when her fingers make contact with his skin, then move up beside her. “I ran into someone.”

Drake tilts his head, then lowers his voice to a whisper. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

“It’s complicated, but we need his help,” she says, her breaths uneven. As if I’d ever aid the boy or the sister. I am only here to stop her from getting killed, possibly bringing the prophecy to fruition, and finding the person who stole the bodies of my siblings.

Drake brushes the witch aside, and her eyes widen.

Then he turns his attention to me, his posture shaping defensively. “We don’t need you here.”

“Careful with your words,” I warn.

“Don’t,” Calista tells him.

He turns to face her, and after a moment of looking into her eyes, he sighs. “I don’t want him near you.”

“I don’t either,” she admits, as if I’m not even standing here.

I focus on Calista as she watches untie his cloak, then throws it over his shoulder.

“We have killed people because of this tournament,” he states. “His tournament.” He pauses, then points at me.

Calista touches his arms, redirecting his attention back to her, and his shoulders relax. I could so easily kill him, and my fingers flex at the thought.

“I know,” she says, her voice charged with a panicked, desperate hope. “But we can end this now.”

I focus on the boy, anger roiling in my bones. “You dare talk down to me,” I spit and close the few feet between us. He gulps under my shadow as I glare down at him. “I am your god.”

Shadows erupt from my core, and Cali’s fingers land on my arm as the ribbons of darkness coil around Drake’s torso.

“Please,” Calista begs, and a low growl vibrates in my chest. “He won’t say anything else,” she promises, but my shadows squeeze tighter until the traitor’s bloodshot eyes flow with tears.

I bring him to the edge of unconsciousness, then release him, dropping him to the ground.

He holds his stomach, doubling overs before bringing his stare to meet mine.

We both know I’m not letting him off this island.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Calista

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