Page 387 of Rage

Chapter Nine

All at once, the Peace Officers fire, shooting round after round until they run out of ammo. Every bullet stops just short of me and falls to the ground, creating a modest pile of spent ammunition at my feet.

I wait, patiently biding my time, watching as their faces contort in horror. Finally, when the clearing falls silent again, I chuckle.

“My turn.”

Once again trusting my intuition, I raise my hand and point to one of the Peace Officers. A jet of white light bursts from the end of my finger, racing toward him and wrapping around his throat like a whip. A pitiful whimper escapes his lips as the magical glowing lasso tightens around his neck.

Rage hooks in my gut, fueling my power, and the light grows brighter. He grabs onto it, screaming when the light blisters his bare skin, and tries hopelessly to pull free. His attempts are in vain, and the light begins to splinter, tendrils stuffing into his mouth, down his throat. They light him up from the inside, making his skin glow an unsettling shade of red.

The others stare in horror, backpedaling as fast as they can, giving the entrapped Peace Officer a wide berth.

They’re afraid, as they should be.

I smirk and kick up the power even more, the white-hot whip burning so bright it makes my eyes ache to look at it. Everyone else shields their eyes as the Peace Officer’s skin begins to bubble and boil as he’s cooked from the inside. A minute later, I recall the magic, and he falls to the ground, a smoking hunk of charred flesh.

For a moment, no one dares to move. The three other Peace Officers watch in horror, trying to decide what their best option is. Should they run? Fight?

I can’t help but revel in their fear, letting it stoke the rage burning within me into an uncontrollable inferno.

Every one of them will pay.

Every. Single. One.

The Peace Officer on the right turns and runs, but he isn’t fast enough. My magic whips across the clearing, seizing him by the ankle and dragging him slowly while he struggles to get free. The light burns his flesh, searing through the muscle, down to the bone. After a sickening crackle, the foot is severed from his limb, and it falls limply to the ground.

The Peace Officer shrieks in horror, and the other two run in the opposite direction.

“Going somewhere?” I ask, my voice somehow carrying despite not being very loud.

More magical whips lash out, grabbing the officers by their throats. They slam backward onto the ground with the wind knocked out of them, and I stride over casually. My previous haste is gone, replaced by a deep desire to draw out their pain.

I want them to suffer.

I want them to regret every second of their miserable lives.

I want them to know the fear the women in Merik feel every single day, the pain they’ve endured at the hands of Peace Officers like them.

They’re crying, begging for their lives, but their pleas fall on deaf ears. Nothing they can say will save them.

“P-please,” one mumbles as my white light branches out and snakes over his body, burning blistering trails wherever it touches. His robes catch fire, the blaze catching quickly as he’s unable to roll around to put them out.

“Please what? Have mercy?” I laugh, the maniacal sound twisted and distorted. My eyes shift to the other officer who’s fighting to free himself, desperately trying to undo the magical rope around his throat despite it burning the flesh off his fingers. “The way you’ve shown us such mercy, is that right?”

“P-Please, let us—” The magic squeezes their throats, slicing through their flesh. It cuts through the muscle and bone, decapitating them both. Their heads loll to the side, their unseeing eyes staring blankly up at the star-flecked sky.

Much better.

My eyes bounce back to the last breathing Peace Officer who’s frantically crawling around the corner of the gatherer house, almost out of sight.

For a moment, I think about letting him go. After all, Lita and I are perfectly free to escape. We can run into the forest and be long gone by the time he raises the alarm and notifies any other officers.

But he’ll still be able to alert them.

I’ll buy us much more time if all the loose ends are properly tied up and disposed of.

Mind settled, I march after him, grinning when his babbled pleas hit my ears.

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