Grace of a Wolf - Chapter 247

Chapter 247: Grace: Coin (III)
Andrew’s little sedan, which technically belongs to the pack but no one seems to care he’s driving it around these days, lurches forward with a miniature roar as I slam my foot down on the accelerator, hoping and praying I don’t hit Andrew if he falls off the hood.

I don’t, in fact, hit Andrew, though I do hit someone.

My forehead bangs against the steering wheel as I brake for a second without thinking. Then I hear what I think is Andrew screaming at me to go, and my foot returns to the accelerator with a hard stomp. The sedan bumps over something and shoots forward, taking me away from the fight with haste.

My other hand jerks at the seatbelt until I’m safely buckled in and (hopefully) safe from another forehead-steering wheel slam if I run into anything else.

Not that I’m planning to, exactly, but—

My palms are sweaty and my fingers already ache from how tense they are on the wheel, but I lean over while keeping my eyes on the windshield, fumbling around on the passenger seat for my phone as I fight to hold myself steady against every bump of a speeding car on gravel.

Eventually, I find it and dare a quick glance.

Still no signal.

God, I hope Andrew’s okay.

But, of course, as soon as I think that something slams into the side of my car, sending me careening off-road into a nauseating spin.

The seatbelt once again saves me from a concussion, and I glance at my window, only to scream a little when I see Ellie’s face pressed against the glass.

Jesus.

Fucking.

Christ.

She looks like she’s walked right out of a horror movie, strands of her long black hair caught in her mouth and her emerald green eyes wide and crazed.

Blood trickles down her forehead, only completing her deranged look.

I jerk my eyes away from Ellie’s horror-movie face and slam my foot on the gas pedal, but nothing happens. The engine roars, but the car goes nowhere. Can’t even feel the tires spinning.

It might have something to do with the hood being crunched in on one side, but while I’m not a mechanic, it doesn’t seem likely.

Rafe’s jealous Luna pounds against the window. Her hair’s in sweaty clumps around her face and there’s blood trickling down from somewhere on her scalp, making her seem like some sort of war refugee even though she’s acting like a dangerous maniac.

Must be pretty privilege. You can look pitiful even when you’re being crazy.

But my ridiculous panicked brain focusing on how she’s both horrifying and pretty is not going to get me out of this mess.

“Get out! Get the fuck out!” she shrieks, in a frantic way I’ve never heard from her before. She might be a bitch, but she always holds herself at some level of composure, even if she’s delusional.

The only word left to describe her is rabid.

The doors are still locked, not like it’ll help much. If she puts her real strength into it, she’ll shatter these windows. It looks like she’s too out of her mind to be rational right now, which at least gives me time to figure out… something.

Fuck. But what?

My fingers shake as I snatch up my phone, but there’s still so no signal.

My heart rate spikes again when I see a notification appear on my screen. There’s still no signal. How the hell—?

[CAERIEL: Blast her.]

For a second, hope surged in me seeing his name. He’s my mentor, so he can save me. But reading those two simple words has it crashing back at my feet.

What the hell; if he wants me to blast her, can he at least give me step-by-step instructions on how?

The window explodes inward.

Glass shards spray across my face and chest as Ellie’s fist punches through. Before I can react, her fingers lock around my throat, squeezing with inhuman strength. Her nails dig into my skin, drawing blood.

I’m too shocked to feel pain, I think, because everything goes in a blur.

I grab her wrist without thinking, trying to pry her hand away. She’s screaming something, but all I can focus on is the pressure crushing my windpipe and the sudden surge of heat in my chest. It’s not fear—it’s something else. Something deeper. It burns and pulses, gathering into what feels like a… baseball. A flaming baseball right behind my sternum.

Instinctively, I reach for it, and the moment I do, the energy shoots through me, from core to fingertips. It explodes outward with a thunderous crack.

The blast throws Ellie backward, sending her flying through the air, and her nails scratch my throat as her grip is forcefully ripped away. The car door sails right off its hinges with her, crashing to the ground yards away.

I stare at my hand in shocked disbelief. My palm tingles with residual heat, and my fingertips look faintly scorched. This is… different from the last time, isn’t it?

My phone buzzes again, and I look down out of habit more than anything. I’m pretty sure I’m in shock again. It’s starting to feel familiar.

[CAERIEL: Just like that, do it again. I’m not helping this time.]

Helping… oh. He must have been the one to make my magic do something.

I guess he’s not completely useless after all.

Ellie staggers to her feet, her clothes singed and torn. Though I didn’t see a single flame, she looks burned. And even from this distance, I can see her eyes have gone wolf-yellow.

She’s going to shift, and I’m no match against shifter speed, much less shifted shifter speed.

I focus inward, searching for the same heat, the same power, trying to imagine it into the flaming baseball I’d sensed before. It’s clumsy how it all comes together, and I’m not exactly sure how I do it. It’s mostly instinct, copying the feeling without knowing exactly how I’m doing it; as if the arcana knows my intent.

It’s sloppy and maybe more of a weirdly shaped blob than a baseball, but Ellie’s already launching herself forward as she shifts and I have no time left.

Thrusting out my hand, I shout, “Stay away from me, you crazy bitch!”

The energy erupts from my palm again. It hits Ellie square in the chest and she crashes to the ground and lies motionless, smoke rising from her clothes.

Oh, fuck. Did I just kill her?

Wait—Andrew! What about Andrew?

My seatbelt is still buckled, so it takes a minute for me to untangle myself from the wreck of the car, and I scan the area wildly, not quite sure which direction I came from. I’d spun when Ellie hit the car.

They’re too far away to make out details, but considering how aggressively they’re all moving, he’s still alive.

Waiting around isn’t an option; he can’t win against them all by himself.

So, ignoring the smoking Ellie on the ground and half-hoping I didn’t kill her because I’m so not capable of handling the idea I’ve taken a life, I bolt for the man I’d finally accepted as a friend while trying desperately to draw arcana into another ball in my chest.

I’m about halfway there when something jumps onto me from behind, smelling like burned skin and hair.

The hold I had on the vaguely ball-ish shaped arcana in my chest fumbles, and the entire world goes white.