Part 4 (1/2)

Taran scowled hard enough to burn. Her irises went white as she gathered the full gamut of her power while the other Celia draped against the doorframe pretending to be hurt. She winked at me once just as Taran screamed, ”Get her!”

I skidded back on my b.u.t.t, just missing the machete Shayna pitched between my legs. My eyes crossed as I watched it bat back and forth in front of my nose. Never had I been more grateful to be female.

I swallowed hard, but didn't hesitate. Every hair on my body stuck out from the energy Taran built into her lightning. I flung my body through my bedroom window. Gla.s.s sc.r.a.ped across my fur like red hot tuning forks. I landed on four paws as a giant bolt of blue and white exploded onto the lawn. The force of the blast threw me along the deep snow face-first. I bolted to the greenbelt behind our house, half-blind, barely out of reach of the next strike.

My paws dug into the thick snow, kicking it up behind me as I raced up the hill. I ground to a halt about a half mile away. I needed to get far enough away to form a plan, but not so far that I'd leave my sisters alone with Larissa's creation. They trusted her, and while the challenge was only supposed to include me, their trust could end up placing them in danger.

My claws scratched at the ground restlessly. It killed me to leave them, but if I stayed I'd have to fight them. All of them. Someone would get hurt. And I'd rather die than hurt my family.

I crouched behind a tree, my fur already saturated from the snow. But it beat changing to stand naked once more. I growled, cursing Larissa, her mother, and her d.a.m.n pets if she owned any. The freak probably kept a rabid canary for kicks and giggles.

Okay. Now what?

Thunder roared above me. A thick black cloud inched its way across the sky until it covered the weak winter sun, dropping the temperature about ten more degrees. Sleet mixed with snow, and wind almost immediately followed. Okay. This didn't suck or anything. Larissa's power likely also included manipulating the weather. Icy rain pierced my skin like nails and a gust of wind slapped a mound of snow into my face.

b.i.t.c.h.

I panted hard, both with fear and anger. Larissa played a cruel game, but to turn my sisters against me told me she also played d.a.m.n smart. I supposed it was too much to hope a Walmart greeter could have been crowned head witch. Now, there was a friendly soul.

I waited and waited and waited some more. My tigress ears strained to hear any screams or cries over the howling wind and falling sleet. After about an hour of waiting, I made my way down to the house, keeping low to the thick brush surrounding the perimeter of our property. Everything seemed quiet. Too quiet. The lights were on in the kitchen and in the large open family room. The first level sat higher above ground. I couldn't see over the deck railing.

I searched around for the fir with the thickest trunk and climbed. FYI, tigers weren't meant to scale evergreens. My big body swayed back and forth like a set of winds.h.i.+eld wipers. Pine needles found their way up my nose. Icicles pelted me in the head, and branches slapped more snow in my face. Finally, I climbed enough to see . . . my sisters and the evil Celia gathered around the fireplace sipping steaming mugs of tea and playing Yahtzee.

I just about fell out the tree. What the h.e.l.l? Whose side were they on, anyway?

I scrambled down with all the grace of a rhino, landing hard on my wet rump. Enough was enough. Bad Celia was going down. Insult knew no injury like this. My paws dug into the snow, crunching through the icy surface and into the soft white stuff I now officially hated. My eyes focused on the warm glow of the family room lights as I crept, my claws itching to cut. No longer could I see them, but I could sense them. I needed to get my double away from my family and outside to me.

My roar signaled my arrival, long, strong, clear. Shayna bolted onto the deck first. Her movements so quick, I thought she merely pointed in my direction. The tip of her knife sliced into my tail. I hissed. My tigress had barely dove us out of the way before Shayna could strike a vital organ. I roared again, challenging Larissa's Celia to come down. She inched her way to the edge of the deck and narrowed her eyes.

c.r.a.p. I guess I was pretty d.a.m.n scary. My sisters backed away from her all at once. Shayna lifted another dagger, and Taran's hands fired with white and blue. Bad Celia glanced back at them, appearing genuinely confused. ”What?” she asked.

Emme clasped her hand over her mouth. ”Y-you're not our Celia.”

”Of course, I am,” she said.

Taran's jaw clenched tight. ”Then why aren't you changing and going after her? Why are you letting Shayna fight her for you?”

Yeah! They figured it out, knowing I'd never permit them to fight my battles. Now we had her. Watcha gonna do now, poser?

The other Celia shrugged. Then changed into a golden tigress and leapt off the deck.

s.h.i.+t to the seventh power.

Like my human likeness, the golden tigress resembled mine to perfection. Larissa's power should have shocked me stupid. Instead all it did was rile my beast. I remained a very still, very p.i.s.sed-off statue for roughly two-point-five seconds. Then my rage slapped my astonishment upside the head like I was a spoiled heiress. I charged my other half and rammed into her with my claws out. There remained only one true me. And my beast planned to keep it that way.

We fell into a tumble of furious fangs and wicked claws. Her incisors dug into my shoulder. I pushed back the stabbing pain and surrendered to my beast. Larissa's creation didn't possess the thick hide of my tigress, nor did she hold that animalistic intuition and viciousness to survive. I shredded through the loose fur and into the tender muscle beneath until the snow streaked with crimson and chunks of fur. My victim roared in agony, the sounds mimicking my tigress's voice so closely, it became almost too much to bear. So I focused on my task rather than the virtual hamburger Larissa attempted to make of my brain. My sisters screamed, likely unsure whether the real Celia suffered or not, and torn whether to act.

As my fangs found the imposter's jugular, she changed back, resuming her human form. My sisters gathered around, their power accelerating from their distress, but failing to act. Their gazes danced from me to her when I dropped her on the ground. They seemed unsure who to attack, who to defend.

”f.u.c.k,” Taran sobbed.

My stomach lurched whenI saw what they saw-my small body reduced to nothing more than frayed chunks of flesh. Ribs shone white and slick, protruding with each torturous breath. Hair stuck to the deep gashes on my face-her face. Sweet Jesus. What's happening? My eyes burned and my head spun, no longer able to distinguish the illusion from a very twisted reality.

The imposter reached a hand toward Emme, blood spurting out of her mouth as she spoke. ”Help me, Emme. Please help me.”

Emme extended her hands, her palms glowing with that soft pale light, ready to heal, ready to mend, ready to save. Just before their fingertips touched, Emme stumbled backward, falling on her backside. Tears streamed down her face. She shook her head and covered her ears, wrestling with her contradictory emotions.

Shayna dropped her blade. It fell flat against the layer of ice beside her. Her face blanched and her hands shook as she tried to find her words. ”Is she . . . Could she . . .”

I couldn't take the suffering. I changed, falling into a kneeling position to cradle the other Celia's naked body against me. She felt cold-my G.o.d, so cold-her skin supple and moist against mine. I pushed her red-stained curls from her face. She appeared so innocent then, young, helpless, incapable of harming another soul, the menace of her beast nowhere in sight.

She locked her gaze on mine just before I snapped her neck.

The crunch of her vertebrae made me drop to my side. Shayna and Emme choked back screams. Taran hollered with rage and grief, dropping to her knees next to me with her flaming blue and white hands inches from my face. The heat roasted my skin. I recoiled as if burned, unable to take the breadth of her fire. Something in my expression made her stop mere seconds before setting me aflame. Perhaps it was my own horror staring back at her, or maybe the fact that I didn't fight back. Either way she stopped. Thank heaven she stopped.

I bit my bottom lip hard enough to taste blood, unable to take the tormented grimace wrinkling Taran's beautiful face. So instead I focused on the burden I still held in my arms, and how the slight weight suddenly seemed unbearable. Her lifeless green eyes continued to stare at my face, despite her lolling head. I wanted to toss her away, deep into the pine forest. It wasn't really me after all, was it? But I couldn't seem to do that to myself. So I sat there, watching, waiting, while my sisters' cries reverberated against my skull.

The thick clouds above vanished like a vial of ink poured into the ocean. The strong wind and freezing sleet ceased. Slowly, Larissa's creation dissolved into water, clean and pure, creating tiny rivers against the blood-stained snow. When she finally disappeared, all that remained was a small clump of my hair draped against my knee.

I barely felt Taran and Shayna helping me to stand. Shayna said something about hypothermia, but I couldn't be sure, nor did I really care. I swallowed hard. In my arms, I had held the dead me. And nothing would ever wipe that memory.

Chapter Seven.

”I want to kill her. Just let me kill her. d.a.m.n it, Celia. Will you look at me?”

”I am looking at you, Taran.”

The shock of my experience receded as Emme encased me in her healing aura and Shayna threw about seven blankets over my s.h.i.+vering form. Except Emme's gift and Shayna's attention failed to erase the images of the fight. They continued to haunt me, but at least now I could function. Sort of.

Taran paced around the kitchen, b.a.l.l.s of blue and white forming, disintegrating, and reforming in her palms. Her agitation and growing hate threatened to burn down our house. I wanted to calm her and reinforce that only one challenge remained. Yet I couldn't even stop my body from shaking. I'd killed myself. And while my rational side insisted that it was just part of Larissa's mindscrew, it remained one h.e.l.l of an illusion. The other Celia's skin had felt like my skin. Her eyelashes fanned out thick and long like mine, her green eyes sparked just as intensely, just as sharply. Larissa had mimicked my physique to a tee, down to the freckle on the knuckle of my right pinky. Witches vowed to do no harm.

I supposed that remained true. So long as you didn't p.i.s.s one off.

Shayna's back rested against our new granite top, her arms crossed. She no longer cried. No one did. I wished then she would, hoping the release might soothe her. ”I could have killed you.” Her head angled my way. ”I never miss. You know I never miss. This was the first time I didn't hit my mark. If it wasn't for your tigress side I would have . . .” I expected her to burst into tears then, but she only shook her head before turning toward the window.

”s.h.i.+t.” Taran abandoned her fire and leaned into the counter, burying her face into her hands. ”We all could have killed you, Celia.” Her carefully applied mascara smeared down her cheeks. She clenched her jaw when she regarded me once more. ”I'll find that b.i.t.c.h Larissa, Ceel. And when I do, I swear I'll end this.”

”And have every last witch in the Tahoe region after us?” I shook my head. ”No. You've already seen what one can do. And I think both of us have done our share of killing. Don't you?”

Taran didn't answer. She pursed her lips. In the end, murder was murder, no matter how just. Emme and Shayna had never experienced taking a life. And I hoped they never would. That's one of the reasons I'd pounced on the Ninth Law. I didn't want them to have someone's heart stop by their hands. Taran and I? h.e.l.l, some nights I still woke to the screams of those who'd killed our parents. They'd begged me to spare them when I hunted them down. I didn't. Not a one. Most people would have expected a fifteen-year-old to show some mercy. But I suppose most people would have given me too much credit.