Page 83 of Wake the Dream

The movement caused a shockwave across the ground. The vampires spurred into motion as a single unit, launching themselves toward Illaria, because no matter what Oona promised, she would never keep her end of the bargain. Illaria would be the best battery imaginable. An immortal with magic in her veins, her soul the ultimate key to bringing down the gate.

She did this for him knowing the outcome.

“Stop!”

He used the last of his energy to delve into his gift. The power of his lineage that gave him the ability to read people. It surged out of him like a tidal wave, with an intensity he didn’t know he possessed. Fueled by his desire to see Illaria safe, it rippled across the park and he watched the stunned expression on Oona’s face wither when the vampires under her command burst into flame.

They writhed, red and gold sparks eating away at them until nothing but dust remained.

Oona didn’t have a chance to speak. A pair of gossamer wings burst from her back and she took flight seconds before his power reached her.

The magic whooshed through him and Kieran’s energy rapidly depleted to the point where if he continued to hold the magic, it would use his physical form as fuel.

He didn’t know how to shut it off.

No one had told him about the terrible cost of magic. His coffee addiction had helped him in the past, he knew in that brief moment, refueling him and grounding him when he used his gift to see his coworkers.

This was different. Bigger.

Something he couldn’t control.

His gift shifted and morphed, changing into a force with the capacity to tear through anything in its path. Was this why people had laughed at his grandmother? Was this why they’d made it into a joke?

Better a joke than a weapon.

She hadn’t come close to exhibiting this kind of power, and that was probably with good reason.

His last thought went to Illaria. Maybe, with her mother gone, she would be safe.

Agony ripped down his spine hard enough that he felt the last of the air leave his lungs. With the last of his energy came full knowledge of the lack of control. A realization that he was just as likely to hurt the people he’d sworn to protect.

Drained to the last drop.

He hadn’t been ready for this kind of backlash. Not really. But he couldn’t complain even when the rest of his body began to burn, pushing against the magic he’d unleashed. He tried to speak when Illaria moved to his side, her eyes red and worried, to tell her not to be upset, but his throat was raw. Kieran couldn't move his body and he couldn’t release the flow of power.

Illaria was saying something. Telling him to...what?

Let go.

He tried to tell her that he couldn’t. He didn’t know how, and it hurt. His body became like the anvil in a blacksmith’s shop, iron striking against metal again and again.

Was this the end of him, then?

It wouldn’t be so bad. A blessed relief, if he were honest, and if his sacrifice meant the people he cared about were finally safe.

“You are going to kill yourself,” Illaria snarled.

Kieran blinked, his eyes aching like someone had thrown lemon juice in them.

“Come on, breathe through it. Kieran, release it.”

Light flared around them and the rain sizzled overhead through the heat. Sound returned at once, people yelling and scrambling to escape whatever strangeness had overtaken Crow Point.

He groaned. Fought for a way to do as she asked and free himself from the surging power whittling away at his core. But it was a jumble inside of him. Tangled to the point where he couldn’t disconnect one string from the other.

“Baby, I’m sorry.”

The grass beneath him hissed and smoked. Illaria swore, her hands on his chest, and at once the air around them went tight. Vanished.

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