Unraveled Page 68


   I knew when I was beat, and I gave him a grateful smile. “Four of you then.”

   He nodded back at me.

   We hashed out a few more things, but after that, there was nothing to do but wait for the theme park to close. I ended up sitting on the couch, my head resting back against a large, fluffy pillow, and my feet stretched out on a small ottoman. Maybe it was the pleasant heat from the fire or the last dregs of the sedative in my system, but my eyes slowly slid shut, and I started to dream. . . .

   The gunman loomed over me, his finger curling back on the trigger, and I knew that I was going to die, right here in my own home.

   I’d always felt so safe, so secure here. I’d always thought that nothing bad could ever happen as long as I was within these walls, where the stones softly sang me to sleep every night.

   It made me sick to my stomach to realize how wrong I’d been.

   The man stepped forward and adjusted his aim. I put my hands down, but I’d landed on a thick Persian rug, instead of the slick stone floor, and I wasn’t going to be able to lurch out of the way before he shot me point-blank in the head—

   A blue-white ball of magic blasted through the air, slamming straight into the guy’s gun. He screamed and staggered back, trying to drop the weapon.

   Only he couldn’t, since his entire hand was now encased in a thick block of elemental Ice, along with his gun. The man screamed again, reached around with his free hand, and pulled another gun out from against the small of his back, but his movements were slow and awkward, and I knew what was going to happen next.

   Sure enough, another blue-white flash of magic filled the office, cold enough to make my breath frost in the air. Only this time, the light separated into a deadly spray of Ice daggers, all of which punched into the gunman’s chest. Blood sprayed out in all directions from the jagged puncture wounds, the warm drops stinging my face like bees. His second gun fell from his hand, and he screamed and clutched at his chest, as though he could pull out all those long, glittering shards of Ice.

   But it was too late for that.

   The man staggered back, hitting the wall across from me, and his legs slid out from under him. A second later, he was down on the floor, facing me. My gaze locked with his. Even though the ski mask still covered his face, I could tell that he looked surprised, as if he’d never thought that he might end up shish-kebabed like the appetizers at the holiday party earlier.

   He opened his mouth to say something, but only a thin trickle of blood came out through the wool, although more and more of it oozed down his chest, soaking into his black clothes. His dark gaze locked with mine again, but his body went slack, and I could tell that he wasn’t seeing me. Not anymore.

   Still staring at the dead man, I shuddered and wrapped my arms around myself—

   A shadow fell over me, and I slowly looked up. My mom towered above me, the blue-white flames of her Ice magic still crackling on her hand. She stared at the man, making sure that he was dead, then dropped to her knees in front of me. She was still holding on to her magic, and the cold chill of it sank into my body, just as the Ice daggers had punched into the intruder’s chest. I shrank away from her, trying to press myself up against the wall, into the wall, through the wall, and out the other side to some place far, far away. Where there were no gunmen creeping around. Where it was safe. Where I was safe.

   Anywhere but here, where I had just seen my mom kill a man.

   “Genevieve! Are you okay?” Mom’s voice was as loud as thunder in the absolute quiet of her office.

   All I could do was just stare at her. I felt cold and numb, inside and out, as though she’d frozen me with her Ice magic, instead of the gunman.

   Mom released her hold on her Ice magic and leaned forward, as if she were going to run her hands over my body and make sure that I was okay, but I shrank back from her again. For a second, confusion filled her blue eyes, along with more than a little hurt. But that hurt quickly melted into grim understanding.

   She slowly dropped her hands to her sides and rocked back on her knees, putting a little distance between us. She stayed like that for the better part of a minute, just letting me stare at her, even as my mind churned and churned, trying to understand everything that had just happened.

   “You’re bleeding,” Mom finally said, pointing to the ugly wound in my palm. “Mind if I take a look at that?”

   I glanced down and realized that I was cradling my injured hand up against my chest, smearing blood all over my blue snowflake pajamas. I’d forgotten all about the snow-globe glass cutting into my palm, but now that I was looking at it, I could feel the deep, throbbing wound.

   “Genevieve?” Mom’s voice was almost a whisper. “Can I look at your hand? Please?”

   That soft please finally penetrated my shock, horror, and disbelief. Because my mom always said please and thank you, and she’d drilled those words into me and my sisters as well. It made her seem like, well, Mom again, and not the powerful Ice elemental who’d just killed a man.

   I nodded and held out my hand to her.

   Mom leaned forward again, her fingers cool against my skin as they gently probed the wound. I tried not to think about the Ice magic lurking just beneath the surface of her own skin. I’d always known that she was a strong elemental, but to actually watch her unleash that power against another person . . . to actually feel all her cold strength . . . to actually see how easily she’d killed the gunman with her magic . . .

   I didn’t know what to think about that—or her—right now.

   “It doesn’t look too deep,” Mom said, trying to inject some false lightness into her voice. “We’ll get you cleaned right up. I’ll put some Air elemental healing ointment on it, and you’ll be as good as new in the morning.”

   “And how are you going to clean that up?” I whispered, pointing a shaking finger at the dead man.

   She didn’t look at him, but her mouth flattened into a tight, thin line. “Don’t worry about him, Genevieve. He broke into our home and threatened you. He got exactly what he deserved.”

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