Page 57 of What Is Dark Within Me

Nicolas took a step back and the shadows swallowed him. All left in his wake was a hint of woodsmoke, only this time, it was not paired with vanilla. The noxious scent made Aleja’s adrenaline kick into overdrive, as if her primitive instincts sensed a wildfire. He’s just hidden, she told herself. You’d be sick if he’d gone far.

There wasn’t time to wonder when she’d begun to find Nicolas’s presence a comfort.

“And who areyouthat can command the Knowing One?” James said with a dark chuckle.

“Tell me where Violet is, or I swear, I will do everything I can to destroy you and this place.”

“I’m not luring these women anywhere. They’re sick. They come to me for help, and as a doctor, I offer it. If Violet truly is your friend, then you will keep this knowledge to yourself. We have spent decades hiding the well from the Knowing One. He will destroy it, if given the chance.”

“Tell me where she is,” Aleja pleaded.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot answer your question. And I’m sorry I had to deceive you just now.”

The gasp she gave as James punched her in the stomach was cut off, but her body reacted a second later. She dodged his next attempt, not missing the gleam of a weapon in his hand, and struck her heel into his knee.

Yet it was a small space and, despite her new strength, James had the advantage of size.

He straightened before Aleja could hit him again, capturing her by the shoulders. His muttered spell skidded across her skin like the prickle of thorns, but she felt no other effect, until he pressed the opalescent sickle against her throat.

“I told you I would know if you touched her.”

Aleja wasn’t sure when Nicolas had reappeared in the room, but his voice was surprisingly calm for someone whose ally had a magical blade pressed against her throat.

“How else would you know you were invited to return? I have a bargain for you, and I needed leverage,” James said. His breath smelled like Champagne and Louisa’s lipstick. “I let your friend live and the two of you, as well as your allies, lose the ability to find me again. Ever.”

It was clever wording. This man had experience with Otherlanders, but somehow, she didn’t feel afraid, even with the sickle digging against her skin. She was too angry to be scared. She remembered something her grandmother had told her. Not all magic was spells and candles and difficult-to-understand books. Sometimes, joy was magic. Sometimes, compassion was magic. And sometimes,wrathwas magic.

She was barely aware of Nicolas’s voice saying, “I don’t think we’ll be accepting that deal,” before a roar erupted from her throat.

The room’s light turned the color of fresh arterial blood. The display cases lost their detail. Aleja saw only a blur of color as she realized she was no longer in James’s grip. Her hands moved, but she wasn’t sure what they intended to do, or if they were even under her control.

No, she told herself—a silent scream that swallowed any protest her inner voice could offer.

Heat forced her eyes closed as tears streamed from the corners. It felt like they should leave blisters on her cheeks. There were two sharp cracks, layered in harmony; splintering wood paired with shattering glass. Someone called her name. She tried to open her eyes but was met with a light so brilliant she squeezed them shut again.

A pair of heavy hands landed on her shoulders. Now that the surge of magic was passing, she felt hollow, barely able to stand. At the first whiff of smoke, she doubled over and coughed.

Aleja was dimly aware of her cheek against Nicolas’s chest—the soft scratch of his suit against her skin, and the thrum of a heart, slower and deeper than a human’s. If his voice was a cello, then his heart was a bass drum. His pulse vibrated into her fingers, her toes, her scalp.

“What happened?” she murmured, realizing she was too weak to pull away even though she was slumped against the Knowing One.

“I’m going to guide you out of the room. Promise me you’ll keep your eyes closed.”

She didn’t promise. She couldn’t. Not when her shoe met something fleshy as she jostled away. There was a wet sound. Aleja slipped, and one of Nicolas’s hands jumped to her waist, keeping her upright.

“Hey,” Nicolas said, pulling her tightly against him so that she couldn’t see anything but the fibers of his suit jacket. “Keep your eyes closed. Do you promise me?”

“No,” she whispered, allowing him to maneuver her a few feet to the right. “I need to know what happened. Please.”

“In a moment. Let’s go, dove.”

Aleja blinked her eyes open as Nicolas led her through the door. Blood and fire covered the mahogany floors and the rug. All the jars on the shelves had shattered; their shards glistened atop a pool of red like the first stars showing through the light of a vibrant sunset.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” Nicolas said. All she saw of the doctor was a stiff hand curled around a sickle, before Nicolas closed the door, cutting her off from the sight of what she had done.

What had swelled within her was wild magic, unconstrained magic, and she had let it rampage. You were Our Lady of Wrath, Bonnie had told Aleja, as she shuffled out of her cabin in the Hiding Place. The revelation had come with a warning:Be careful. I’m not sure you know what you’re capable of.

Aleja slumped against the door. The tears flowing from her now were no longer scorching, but their salt against her tongue reminded her of the taste of blood. If there had been anything in her stomach left to throw up, she would have.

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