I lifted my hand, and he flinched. Maybe he didn’t underestimate me after all. The three undead thugs suddenly had guns in their hands, drawn and trained on me. They weren’t thrilling conversationalists, but they were known to have decent aim. If your only directive was to kill, you managed to be quite precise.
“You try to touch me, pretty boy, and I will leave a crater of ashes and burnt metal where you and your friends used to be.”
His lip curled up in distaste. So it was okay for him to threaten to kill me, but not vice versa?
“I have a job to do.”
I raised my other hand and held both out to my sides. Rain pooled in my palms and dribbled between my fingers. Tilting my face to the sky, I reveled in the sensation of each heavy drop wetting my cheeks.
Seth, hear me.
The words didn’t need to be said out loud. The prayer itself wasn’t necessary. The power of the god was in me, whether he was paying attention or not.
“You might want to get out of here,” I told him. “Storm’s coming.”
I grinned, and the sky was suddenly brighter than midday, a flash of lightning forking overhead. Barely a heartbeat later the thunder boomed, so close and loud it rattled my teeth and made my knees feel wea
k. The sound promised power. It offered menace no mere words could.
Don’t mess with me, it said.
Prescott had to touch me if he was going to kill me.
I could obliterate him from a mile away, and we both knew it.
He moved a step closer, and my grin faded. A smart man would back down, and I used to think he was a smart man.
“Don’t,” I warned.
“She wants it back.”
“I don’t care.” Hell, if it was up to me, she could have the stupid thing. But I hadn’t won it for myself, and if I handed it over now, the wrath of Seth would be far scarier than Prescott’s handshake of death.
“Tallulah, please.”
I gathered that he was equally concerned about going home empty-handed, but his well-being wasn’t my problem.
“Stop.”
He ignored me and took another step closer, so he was now well in front of the cars. The three undead had their weapons raised still, nary a trembling grip in sight.
I raised my hands higher, and the hair on the back of my arms stood on end. My whole body felt electrified, as if I’d stuck my fingers into a live socket. I didn’t want to do this, but he gave me no choice. After knowing me this long, Prescott should have understood I didn’t bluff.
He needed a reminder.
A deep, scary rumble of thunder shook the hill, and he paused, raising an eyebrow at me. But I wasn’t going to stop, not this time. He clearly didn’t believe I was serious.
Angling my palms outward, I gritted my teeth like a soldier bracing himself for amputation. This was going to hurt. It always hurt.
The sky turned bright white, illuminated into temporary daylight as lightning shredded the night like it was tissue. The bolt hit me harder than a ten-ton truck, slamming into me so ferociously I felt as if every atom in my body were being crushed.
Electricity coursed from the top of my head through my limbs, and I held my ground, feet planted firmly in the wet mud. A tear trickled down my cheek as I pulled the energy of the lightning into me and directed it, shoving it back out again, but this time at my command.
Another flash of lightning brightened the hilltop, only now it came from my hands instead of the sky. It sizzled past Prescott, ruffling his suit jacket and sending him sprawling backwards so fast he collapsed into the mud, scrambling to get away. The three undead guards also retreated, finally lowering their weapons. They might not be able to die, but Manea made sure they cared about self-preservation all the same.
The lightning hit the front car in an explosion of sparks and fire. The gas tank went up in flame, sending pieces of the sedan raining down all around us like sharp, metallic snow.
The husk of the car landed next to the still-functional one, and everyone stared at the burning ruin.