Page 113 of Tricky Princess
“This is it,” she said, turning toward the window.
Closing her eyes, she conjured an illusion.
“I’m here, now what?” Ellea sneered, stepping onto the sidewalk and walking a wide arc around Cerce. She noted her father’s flinch in the small crowd, but she kept her eyes trained on the woman.
“Now, I teach you a lesson I should have taught you a long time ago.”
“It didn’t work then, and I don’t think it will work now.” She gave her a wicked grin.
Cerce’s face contorted with concentration as she sent a fearful vision into Ellea’s mind. She crumpled in pain, feeling the rocks and gravel bite into her palms and dig through her thick jeans.
“You dumb girl,” Cerce hissed, leaning over her huddled form. “I thought you would have at least hidden from me. You loved doing it when you were an insolent child.”
Ellea whined and writhed, begging her to stop. Cerce only cackled, so consumed by her torturing that she didn’t see the illusion. Ellea’s echo reached up, grasping the vile woman by the hair and yanking her to the ground.
The yelp from Cerce was so delicious. It took all her strength to stop her echo from trying to summon its own sharp object and tear more noises from her. “Sorry, Mother, I’m not the real Ellea. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to seek my own vengeance.”
Ellea reeled in her magic, and her echo pouted as she began to shimmer into nothing. Cerce let out a hiss, searching around them as the echo disappeared with a middle finger held in front of her. The vampires and demons clawed at the air, twitching as they waited for the call to attack.
As soon as the illusion disappeared, Ros let loose a ring of fire, cutting off the demons and vampires from Cerce and Cato. While Ellea was distracting her, Cerce didn’t see the group of her friends taking their positions. They would kill any of the demons or vampires that didn’t surrender.
Ellea reminded herself of the goal: quick and no games. Her powers screamed at her to go back to toying with Cerce. She was desperate to repay all of the torture she’d endured, to get revenge for all of the innocent mortals and supernaturals she’d killed. But she wouldn’t—not now.
Quick, no mistakes. We’ll get to play back in Hel.
That quelled her powers slightly, and Ellea walked up to stand beside Ros. Her powers crackled in her veins as her mother snarled.
“Tricky little child.”
“I’m not a child anymore, and you don’t control me.”
Ellea let her powers radiate out, creating fifty Ellea and Ros illusions. They all descended on the evil witch, cursing her and everything she’d ever done.
“Cato! Do something, you imbecile!”
Cerce missed the eye roll her father gave as she was swallowed in a mass of bodies. He released a round of electricity, but it was barely a caress, and the illusions didn’t falter. He was holding back. Ellea shook her head.
I don’t have time to think about this.
A slither of Ros’ shadows snaked around Cerce’s ankle, yanking her to the ground. She threw her own magic at Ros, trying to blind him. She missed, hitting an illusion that dissolved in a glimmer of smoke. Cerce was quick to get up; she had so much power for an evil and frail witch. She threw her arms out, blanketing them with her attack. Ros struck, throwing up a wall of shadow to stop her blow. Cerce screamed in frustration, and Ellea snuck closer—so close.
Cato let out another false wave of electricity, appeasing Cerce as the witch bellowed again.
“Enough games,” she yelled. “You can’t hide behind your illusions forever. I will always come back; I will always be here.”
Another attack crept out, sneaking into Ellea’s mind. She screamed once, but it was enough to show the real her. A flash of flame and heat tore through her mind. She was burning, and the person administrating the torture was not her mother, but Ros.
Not real.
As quickly as it came, roaring with a newfound fear, it was gone. Ros, the man she loved and knew would never hurt her, sent a wave of shadow to smother Cerce. But it was too late. She stormed to the real Ellea.
Lightning cracked through her mind and all around her as a storm rolled in. Ros put up another wall of shadow and flame, giving Ellea a moment to shake off the vision and conjure another illusion. She managed to create two of herself and scattered as his shield fell. Cato hit him with stronger electricity this time, and Ros turned toward the man with a snarl.
It was only her and Cerce. That was fine. She could do this.
“You failed as a witch and you failed as a daughter,” Cerce sang out, her eyes dark with hate and her skin flushed with anger. “We could have done so many great things, the three of us.”
“You would have never had us,” the three Elleas said together.
