Jack-Eye moves closer, his tall frame tense. "Who? Who did this? What are you talking about?"
Someone's reanimating Isabeau, drawing on her power, perhaps even with the help of her her consciousness. Someone with enough power to gather this much blood energy but not enough finesse to do it cleanly.
Someone desperate.
"I don't know yet."
It's a good thing I forced the wizard to stay behind. Who knows how his magic would have responded to such a scene.
It might have even been sucked away, tied to the blood sigils pulling arcana from this room.
I grit my teeth and throw out my hand, channeling my rage through my fingertips. The sigils ignite instantly—blue-white flames burning unnaturally hot, consuming the markings without spreading.
The fire doesn't make a sound, doesn't crackle or hiss. It just burns, clean and merciless.
Owen flinches with his whole body, stumbling back like I've just tried to incinerate him. His silver eyes go wide, reflecting the flames so they look molten.
The terror on his face would be amusing if the situation weren't so fucked.
Jack-Eye takes two hasty steps away from me, though his face remains mostly impassive. His eyes twitch, though.
"Get out," I say, my voice rough with the effort of holding back my rage. "Take Andrew and that twitchy warlock and get out of here."
"But what about—" The Lycan Beta starts.
"These souls need peace." I cut him off, watching as the flames die down, leaving nothing but black scorches. "And I don't want even a sliver of Isabeau's influence to remain here."
My phone vibrates again—and again—and again, a constant buzz against my hip that's becoming harder to ignore. Divinity Connect is having a field day with my emotional state. Probably logging every spike in my power for some archangel's spreadsheet.
Or Chaos wants in.
Either way, I ignore it.
"Now," I add when neither of them moves.
Owen stares at the charred sigils and nods once. "Understood."
Jack-Eye hesitates longer, eyes darting between me and the carnage. "What are you planning to do?"
I turn to face him fully, letting just a hint of what I am bleed into my eyes. His pupils contract to pinpricks as he sucks in a breath.
Grace has always been able to see my eyes for what they are. Jack-Eye has only ever caught glimpses.
"I'm going to clean up."
He frowns, but Owen smacks his shoulder and jerks his head back the way we came. "Right. We'll wait outside."
"Do that."
They back away, Owen moving with the careful precision of someone trying not to startle a predator, Jack-Eye with the wariness of someone who's seen enough supernatural shit to know when to retreat.
When they're gone, I close my eyes and breathe in the stench of death and failed magic. My phone vibrates again, insistent and annoying.
Clairvoyance is not perfect. An overreliance on my abilities will always lead to heartbreak.
It's a lesson I've learned time and time again…
And it never gets easier.