The hit sent a wave of bright red light like a small explosion across the room. The man went flying over the heads of the others fighting and landed half way up the staircase, where he lay without moving. The moment the flash expanded away from him, everyone within ten feet of him was knocked to the ground, except for me. The force of the blow ruffled my hair and warmed my cheeks, but I stayed on my feet.
Wilder and Secret, who had just dispatched their own sparring partners and were far enough from the blast to still be standing, stared at me with unmasked surprise. I looked down at my fist, which was no longer glowing, then back up to them.
“Are you some kind of superhero now?” Secret asked.
I shook my head, but as I fanned out my fingers I couldn’t think of how to explain what had just happened. I hadn’t been enraged, I hadn’t been thinking of my magic at all. I’d just wanted to punch the guy.
This was unlike anything I’d ever done before.
First my magic had ruled me. Then I had learned to rule my magic. Now, it seemed, my magic was becoming such an engrained part of me that there was no control one way or the other, it simply was.
Though, it would be pretty awesome to be able to do that super powered punch thing on command.
Before I was able to answer her, another six men appeared at the top of the stairs, further skewing our numbers, and in their midst stood Mercy.
She looked different than she had when I last saw her in the woods. There was nothing ghostly about her, and it was obvious she wasn’t some ethereal figment of my imagination. She wore a simple black dress, and her dark curls were pinned up on top of her head. With the dramatic makeup she’d opted to wear, she looked severe and imposing, but also beautiful in a scary way.
Mercy appeared to be precisely the kind of magnetic figure that could draw men like this to her.
“I don’t care what you do to the men,” she said, her voice calm and unwavering. “But the girls are mine.”
Without another word, the six new wolves scrambled down the stairs and into the fight. Mercy kept herself at a safe distance, watching us from atop the staircase, as if she was too good to bloody her hands in the fray.
I saw the expression on Secret’s face, and even though she wasn’t looking at me, I was afraid of my sister for the first time. I’d always known what she was capable of, but until now I had been stupid enough to believe that becoming human had made her less frightening. I knew she was still a good fighter and a strong opponent, but seeing the way she looked at our mother, I knew she was so much more than that.
She was a killer.
She was ready to do what it took, and there was no one in this room that could stand in her way.
Even without her supernatural strength, she was hol
ding her own against the wave of werewolves without so much as a pause. She turned her gun towards one of the charging men and fired it into his chest. The sound he let out was that of a wounded dog, not a human male. The yelp echoed in my ears.
Secret stepped over his body and started moving towards the stairs, her focus only for Mercy know.
“You want me?” she asked. “I’m right here.”
Mercy observed her first born with the kind of mean indifference that would send lesser people into therapy for a lifetime.
“I never wanted you,” Mercy sneered.
Secret was unfazed by the cruel words. I guess at this point in her life there wasn’t much Mercy could say that would surprise her. Considering the woman at the top of the stairs had almost killed Secret at least three times, the room for being shocked by her had probably long since run out.
“This is getting so old, Mercy. You lost. You were so fucking mad about losing you came back from the dead. And you know what? You’re just going to lose again.”
Mercy tilted her head to the side, her arms behind her back, and stared at Secret for a long time before smiling. There was nothing maternal or friendly in that smile.
“You can’t be mad at me for coming back. I’m not the one who asked for this. Your dear sweet little sister is the reason I’m here, so I hope she’s happy with what she’s done. Do you think, when I kill you, she’ll know she’s the one to blame?”
“Do you think, when I kill you, she’ll be even the slightest bit sad to see you go?” Secret replied.
“I think,” I interjected. “That when this is all over and done with, I’m not going to have even the slightest bit of guilt left in me about any of it.”
“Ah, there now. Now I know you’re my daughter,” Mercy replied.
I didn’t particularly like how proud she sounded of me in that moment. Most kids want their parents to be happy with them for good grades, but my mother was beaming with pride at me over how malicious and unfeeling I was suggesting I had become.
She really was a monster.