Page 15 of Alpha Exile

Kerry's eyes briefly flutter closed, and her mouth moves silently for a moment, two signs that I know indicate she's consulting her internal database. Like most witches, she has a series of spellbooks and research papers she's committed to memory in her mind palace. Whenever she needs to remember the exact words to a spell she read about twenty-seven years ago, or find an obscure reference to a potion ingredient, she performs a short memory access spell and rereads the words as if in real time.

She promised me that she'd help me make a similar database of my own, but advised that I wait a few years before tackling mine. Apparently, building up the internal mind space for it is a grueling, weeks-long process that's better tackled by more experienced witches. Thankfully, until then, I have her at my side.

"I've found the passage I read about severing threads, but it doesn't go into a significant amount of detail." Kerry fixes her eyes on me, grimacing in the way that she does when she's disappointed by a book or spell. "Severing witches typically draw on a great deal of power or energy, form it into a metaphysical weapon like a sword, and cut through the threads. I didn't read much more into it—as a weaver witch, I knew I wouldn't ever need to know the details."

"That's something to go on, at least." I do my best to psych myself up. "I have the energy of the fire flowers to draw on now, at least. That's good, since the pack is depleted. Should I try using the sword spell you taught me?"

"As far as I know, a physical spell isn't said aloud. It's like..." Pausing for a moment, she searches for the words, not in her mind palace but simply in her mind. "Remember how it felt when you wove the threads together? It should feel instinctual, like that, except you'll need to imagine and create the space for the weapon."

I look over at Cat, trying not to let my nervousness show. She must see some of it, though, because she squeezes my hand and tells me, "It's okay if you're not up for this. I can always have Niall cart me off and put me somewhere safe. I know you've just been through a lot."

Her words are a reminder of the hollow ache in my chest, and the mission I have to complete. I firmly shake my head. "I want to do this now. The sooner I figure out how to sever these threads, the sooner I'll know how to do the same for my mates, and get them back for good."

Cat's voice wobbles as she says, "I believe in you, then. Do your best, my Lilah girl."

My foster mother's voice brings me back to all those years I spent struggling under her roof, missing my pack and my family, yearning for some answers from my father. I grew strong under Cat's guidance, and she deserves some of that strength now. I won't let her be a puppet.

"Alright. Step back for a second." I let go of her hand and turn to face the fire flower vines. "I need to gather some more energy, and I don't want to accidentally scorch you."

Cat and Kerry both give me space. Inhaling deeply, I catch a scent on my nose, one that must be from the flowers. It's a slightly spicy, dry scent. Plucking one of the petals, I crush it and draw it to my nose, reminded of the smell of campfires and summer storms.

Then I reach within and pull on the link I feel spooling from me to the flowers. It isn't the same as the connection I have—had—with my mates. The flowers aren't sentient, and they don't exactly respond the way a person would. But they do stretch out and pour considerable strength and energy into me, where it settles in the center of my chest like swallowed warmth.

Inhaling deeply, I let that energy flow through me and multiply. Then I guide it towards my right hand again, holding my fingers out and grasping at empty air. I feel silly for a moment, until I remember how it felt to hold actualfirein my hand.

The target I firebombed is scorched and blackened. That could be Delphine when I face her. I havethatpower.

A simple weapon is nothing compared to that.

So I stare at my hand and let a single, simple shape form in my mind: a sword. But the length of a sword's blade is too long and unfamiliar to me. Instead, the image of a knife forms in my mind, one similar to Gregor's dagger, and I let myself picture that instead.

Almost as soon as the knife comes to mind, it springs to life in my fingers, which I tighten around the grip to hold its blade. Bright orange energy spills from my palm, jutting out in the form of a six-inch blade that ripples with heat and energy. Waves pour off the blade, and heat crackles up my arm, its power and strength undeniable.

Cat whistles, her brows raised. "I hope that I don't feel this."

"You won't," Kerry reassures her. She nods sharply to me. "Take the threads in your fingers, gather them together, and sever them with the blade. Do it as quickly as you can—linger too long, and things could get complicated."

Complicatedsounds like a euphemism forbad,and I prefer not to imagine what that would mean for Cat. But we can hardly leave her standing around with a mind-body connection to Delphine. Who knows what the bitch will do with that once she's through with whatever she's taken my mates for.

"I won't let anything go wrong," I promise Cat, pacing over to grasp at the threads and pulling them towards me. She twitches a little as I do, her color going pale, as if her blood itself is being yanked at. "I'll make sure this goes as quickly as possible."

Kerry stands behind Cat and braces her, hands on her shoulders. "Make sure you get all of them."

I double-check that I have every thread in my fingers, their slightly wet, reddish color staining my skin. A few have escaped my grip. Gritting my teeth, I slip my fingers under them and grasp them together, each of them slippery in my hands.

"Stay still."

The heat knife ripples in my grip as I bring them down to the threads. Cat gasps, then moans, as the knife hits the first thread. I tighten my jaw and keep going, keeping my eyes cast down at the task at hand instead of into her face.

"Don't stop," she tells me, wheezing, "I can feel her fighting it. She's using my eyes somehow. If you stop, she'll seeeverything."

Shuddering at that thought, I tighten my grip on the knife, draw the threads up against its edge, and shear through them in one short, tight motion. They part easily as the knife hits them, their edges burning and crumbling into ash. As soon as I'm done, I let go of the blade, shivering in delight as the unused energy courses up my arm and back into me, filling my body with a sense of strength and power.

Cat's body jerks upright, her eyes wide open. Then she just as suddenly sags into Kerry's arms. Stumbling backward, Kerry barely manages to keep her upright. A moment later, Cat seems to come to her senses and gets her feet back under her.

"You did it." She blinks at me, color rushing to her face, pink with blood. "I really felt that. You did it! She's gone!"

"I did."

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