Fate's Return (Twisted Fate, Book 2)

Chapter Thirty-Four

I was too scared to open my eyes.

What if Brenan had retreated just so he could see the terror in my eyes when he pounced again? Didn't psychos come back to watch like arsonists who set fires were compelled to witness the art of their flames? No. Psychos wanted to watch as you endured their handiwork, not afterwards. They got off on it. It was all about power. He couldn't have mine. Brenan—David—couldn't take what I wouldn't give. Knowing what he wanted gave me power. It gave me time, maybe even survival. Then again, those were human rules; he wasn't—he couldn't be—human. What if he could take it? Would he?

A grunt filled the air and my eyes snapped open. Shock captured my breath and my jaw fell slack. Tears of relief sprang to my eyes, blurring my vision from seeing the most stunning thing I'd ever seen.

The Lange boys had always been beautiful; now, they were my beautiful heroes.

Mike held Brenan in the air by the back of his neck. Brenan, as though the mere contact of their skin was painful, contorted into an image of pain. As strong and as impossible as Brenan's power had been, Mike was stronger. More powerful.

Deadly.

Mike's body shimmered with power and shone with a faint golden light, a halo of goodness from within. Raffy and Gabe—they were all radiating. I shook my head and blinked over and over again, sliding down the car until my legs were crouched beneath me, and silently fingered the ground for my keys. But, halted by what I saw as though being frozen in place, I hugged my arms over my knees and wished I had a blindfold so that I could pretend this wasn't happening.

It isn't possible. The trauma of the attack was painting pretty pictures of an otherwise horrifying scene. Imaginary. It had to be the effects of the concussion received during the accident with the sign.

But my imagination wasn't this good.

Denial. Yes. Denial was like a salve to the open wound which used to be my eyes. It blurred what I couldn't reason out of focus until I could honestly quiet my inner self and say, "You don't need to believe what you don't see." Nope, nothing to see.

Except for what was happening right now.

Brenan was turning to dust, slowly, painfully. I'd never thought about what it would be like to see, someone turning to dust. I guess, if I had, I would have pictured golden sprinkles or something falling form the sky, or their body crumbling away like ash in the wind, kind of like the protector dude does in I Am Number Four.

This was nothing like that.

All the pain and terror Brenan was feeling in his last moments froze like marble, a sculpture of his human form. It started at his feet to render him motionless, unable to flee, and was accompanied with great agony if the look on his face was any indication. When it crested the crown of his head, his pain was silenced.

No more terror, no more pretending, no more anything.

His eyes were lifeless and gold, like someone had come by and touched up the dullness of his yellow skin with a can of spray paint. If he'd turned silver, he could pass for one of the idiots painting their bodies so that they could stand on a corner and mimic being statues.

Mike released his hold with ease and the space his fingers had rested became visible at Brenan's neck like an imprint. I watched, transfixed as the final part of his skin crystalized and the vein pumping blood slowed. One-two, one-two, one... one... gone. Without Mike's touch, Brenan's heart stopped.

His body broke into shards and then crumbled into mist.

Brenan was ash.

Dead.

My breath came as a whisper. My heart sped as though racing from my body. These three... Oh my wow. Oh God. I needed to go. Now. Before they—I didn't want to become stone! Or dust!

They turned to look at me: Gabe, then Mike, and then Raffy.

I had to find my keys. Where were my keys? I patted the ground with my left hand. Over and over. Where were they? Of course. My right hand. I'd picked them up when my boys had arrived.

But they weren't my boys; they weren't even human!

I pulled myself up by the door handle of my car, opening it so I could crawl inside as I stood. They didn't notice right away or I'm sure I'd be done. Raffy was the first to move, but he was also the furthest. The door slammed shut, barely missing his fingers, and I forced the locks down almost hard enough to break the switch. Looking up, I held his gaze, holding my breath, but then Gabe and Mike began to move in the corner of my vision, and I looked down to find my key with shaking hands.

Would leaving stop them? Probably not.

Still, I didn't fumble as I turned the keys, still wet with Brenan's blood, into the ignition. The car purred its greeting. I shoved it in reverse to back away, pausing before transitioning into drive to look up once more, and saw them all watching with identical frosted eyes, their mouths pinched into thin lines.

They weren't angry, or sorry, or even ready to pounce. They were calm. Resigned. What the hell was wrong with them?

I pushed the gearstick into drive like an extra from Fast and Furious and sped away. Even though I told myself not to, that doing what I did next would do me no favours, I couldn't help it. I looked in my rear-view mirror, barely able to shift my eyes the blood pounding in my veins was so loud, dizzying.

But they continued to watch me, almost normal without their glow. I should go back. Thank them. Pretend it never happened.

Ugh. Forget them—what the hell was wrong with me?

There was no such thing as a good killer and they'd just taken Brenan's life.