Charred flesh.
Past-Genie held her hand up in a fist, then opened it wide.
Morgan exploded.
She actually fucking exploded. And still all the pieces of her wriggled and screamed as if even in this state she could feel every bit of the pain.
Tears were streaming down my face.
Secret and Lucas, who had been blown back by the explosion, were staring at the past version of me with naked horror. Never in my life had I seen Secret look at me that way. If this had actually happened, how could she stand to be in the same room with me? How could she see me as anything other than a monster?
I stared down at my feet and looked at the charred, ruined face of the woman I had killed.
Past-Genie slumped to the floor, the power having ridden her to exhaustion.
Now I understood why I had chosen to bury this moment so deep.
I wish it had stayed buried.
But it seemed nothing in my life did, these days.
Chapter Sixteen
I came to on the dirt floor of Memere’s tree gasping for breath.
Wilder was at my side in an instant, though he had rumpled hair on one side and the faint impression of blanket marks on his cheek. He’d been sleeping. How long had I been out?
Memere was sitting on a stool near the door, and though her eyes had been closed she now fixed both bright blue orbs on me.
“She remembers now,” she said to Wilder. “She knows.”
I sat up, and wiped my cheeks, which were wet with tears. My body was trembling and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to throw up or start bawling. Neither option would help anything, but they might make me feel better.
How could I ever look at myself in a mirror again, knowing what I’d done?
I roughly swiped away the tears that continued to fall, angry with myself for being so out of control of my own emotions. Wasn’t that precisely how I’d gotten in this situation? I’d let my fear and anger conquer me, and as a result I’d killed someone.
There had been plenty of times in my life I’d wondered if I might not be better off if the witch inside me had never woken up. My powers had caused me no end of troubles, but they’d also been there to save me when I needed them. The truth was, no matter how difficult being a witch had made my life, it wasn’t until this very second that I wished I had no powers at all.
If I hadn’t been a witch, Morgan would still be alive.
A flash of her burned skin came to mind and I sucked in a deep breath.
She had tried to kill me. She certainly wasn’t innocent, and there was a very good chance that if I hadn’t killed her, Secret would have. I’d seen that look of pure homicidal intent in my sister’s eyes, and knew only the burning building had saved Morgan those few extra minutes.
But no one deserved to die the way I’d killed her. That had gone beyond inhumane. It was chilling. It was so far past something I could imagine being done, let alone something I had been capable of doing myself.
“Are you okay?” Wilder helped me up into a sitting position, but I recoiled from his touch.
All this time I’d worried he would see something in me that would send him running. Now I’d seen it, and I knew he couldn’t be near me. How could I let him love me when I knew what I really was? What I’d done.
“I killed her,” I wheezed, my throat inexplicably hoarse.
“Killed who?” He looked to Memere for help explaining this, but she was silent again, offering nothing else beyond her initial
declaration. She was done giving me answers.
“The woman on the highway.” I climbed to my feet, brushing dirt from my hands, and carefully avoiding his touch. “I remember it all now. I killed her.”