Page 89 of Discovered Magic
“And I’ll enjoy shoving a fork in your eye,” she quipped, picking one up from the table and examining it. “You and I can have matching faces. It’ll sure make yours prettier.”
His gaze narrowed, and he shoved his chair back to stand.
She could remain where she was and let him intimidate her, or she could move like Castor had advised. The smart money was on listening to her father, but she hesitated, not wanting to give in to Morcant’s cunning manipulation.
She was so fucking sick of bullies.
He circled the table, never looking away, and she could feel his presence, testing her mental wards.
Morcant was a mere foot away when Royal returned.
“Get away from her,” he ordered.
Light flared in the devil Devourer’s eyes. His chance to cause trouble had just walked in the door!
“We were about to become friends, Abbie and I. Weren’t we, my dear?”
“Not in this or any lifetime, you delusional twat,” she retorted.
His hand snaked out and gripped her throat, and as fast as a viper, she stabbed his wrist with her fork.
He hissed his displeasure, drawing back to strike.
The cocking of Royal’s pistol froze them in place.
“I said, get away from her.” Royal may not be the same class of killer as the rest of the gang, but it seemed he wasn’t beyond murder if it meant defending those weaker.
Abbie lifted her chin and shot Morcant a triumphant smirk. “Better do as he says, Morcunt.”
Rage transformed his visage from creepy to nightmarish, and she experienced an oh-shit-I-went-too-far moment.
Royal read the intent and lined up a shot, but not before electricity flew from the Devourer’s fingertips, sending a current straight at her would-be hero’s chest. Convulsing, he dropped to his knees, his death all but a guarantee.
Abbie screamed as she dove for him, but Morcant fisted her hair, keeping her in place. Her fear and rage coalesced into a single blast, shooting straight for his center mass, but he absorbed it as if it were ambrosia.
Castor, Draven, and Silas burst through the door.
“She’s a witch!” Morcant accused. “Look what she did to your brother!”
“No! No! Silas, it’s him!”
“Abbie, calm your mind,” Castor ordered, as he bent over a still Royal.
The mournful wail was unearthly as Silas dragged his brother into his arms.
“Let her go, and I will spare your life,” Draven warned.
And with his lethal words, Abbie was transported back to the day in the bank. The same sense of doom clouded her mind, and panic consumed her.
“Stay calm, chère, or he wins,” the Guardian telegraphed.
She tried. Goddess knows she did! But it felt as if Morcant was drawing her soul from her body. Weakness invaded her limbs, and spots dotted her vision.
“You are a Traveler, daughter,” Castor added. “You have the ability to go back in time to save Royal. Close your eyes and concentrate on the moment he entered the room. Feel his presence, and stop this from happening. If you don’t, Morcant wins. He’s absorbing your magic.”
With fork still in hand, she borrowed a page from Royal’s vicious book and stabbed Morcant in the ballsack.
His high-pitched scream was as gratifying as anything she’d ever experienced.
