Page 527 of Shadowblood Souls
Crag squares his bulky shoulders, his voice a low rumble. “I’m ready.”
I wish I was. I inhale deeply and reach down to the vibration of energy that’s always inside me, if faint when I’m not angry.
It doesn’t take much to stir up the hunger for pain. I prod it with memories of the destruction I’ve seen on the news, of the murders Balthazar committed before my eyes and the ones he threatened.
The vicious, starving thing resonates up from my chest to the back of my mouth. But I’m not going to let it out that way, not if I don’t have to.
I hold myself rigidly under control, aware of my targets while I train my focus, and hone my thoughts into the thinnest possible shriek that I aim at the figures in front of me.
With mortals—humans or animals—I think it’d be enough to freeze them in place. The two shadowkind men only twitch at my efforts. Lance tilts his head, proving he’s not frozen yet.
So Rollick was right. It is going to take more oomph for my powers to affect shadowkind.
I don’t know if we’ll encounter any at Balthazar’s fortress, but I need to be ready either way.
My muscles tensing, I push my silent scream harder and louder inside my head. Ramping it up by careful degrees, hoping I won’t accidentally make too large a leap.
Nothing happens.
My eyes snap shut of my own accord. Ifeelthe shadowkind across the room from me, two solid presences, and shriek with an extra jolt of might.
Finally, the scream connects. My mind floods with the awareness of their bodies, every bit of bone and flesh I could break to deal out the agony my monstrous side craves. Just a sip?—
It happens so fast I can’t catch it in time. The knuckle of a little finger cracks.
I wrench my attention away and yank my eyelids open to see Lance holding up his hand, eyeing it with an air of curiosity even though his jaw has tightened. His smallest finger juts at an unnatural angle.
Even as my stomach flips over, Dominic hurries to the shadowkind’s side. “Here,” he says, reaching for Lance’s hand. “I don’t even need the plants to mend this small an injury.”
Lance lets out a dry chuckle and looks past Dom to where I’m standing. “That’s some tricksy talent you’ve got there. I’m glad we’re on your side.”
“Me too,” I mumble. “I’m sorry.”
Rollick waves off my concern. “It’s fine. You did well. He can endure a lot worse than a broken finger. Now let’s see if you can inflict your power without any wounds this time.”
Again? A shiver runs down my spine, but I swallow my protests.
I have to get this right. I have to prove that I won’t make a mistake like I did with Billy—to our reluctant allies and to myself.
My second silent scream works faster, because I know approximately how much more force I need to put into it, but I keep an even tighter rein. It wraps around the shadowkind men, but I manage to resist the temptation of their tender points.
The headache that started earlier is expanding across my skull. On my third try, I test how it works when I let out a whisper of sound instead of keeping my mouth shut.
A cut opens between Crag’s thumb and forefinger. I clamp down on the urge to drink in more pain, flattening the shriek so it’s barely audible at all and then cutting it off when I’m sure I’m controlling it.
Dominic motions to the gargoyle, but Crag lifts his arm toward me first, sending a tiny wisp of his smoky essence into the air. Shadowkind don’t bleed at all, at least not anything resembling mortal blood.
“Nothing but a scratch,” he says.
I swipe my sweaty palms against my pants, dreading the next step but knowing I have to get there eventually, and meet Rollick’s gaze. “I think I have a pretty good sense of what it’s like with shadowkind now.”
He inclines his head. “Then we should move on to shadowbloods.”
Jacob marches into the middle of the room in front of me with no further prompting. He stations himself with his arms crossed over his chest and his chin firm. “You need this, Wildcat.Making sure you’ll be at the top of your game is worth a little pain.”
Andreas gets into position beside him, his posture relaxed but his gray eyes dark. “Don’t worry about us,” he tells me. “We can handle it.”
They shouldn’t have to. But it’s almost definite that I’ll be fighting other shadowbloods at some point. I need as clear an idea as possible of how to handle them if I’m going to take them out quickly—and avoid breaking my own men in the process.
