The screen flipped to footage from the Grand Canyon, and for the first time in my life I was able to watch myself channel a storm.
I paused, a mouthful of Kung Pao chicken on my chopsticks, and watched the finale of the show the way everyone else had seen it. The lightning crackled next to me, and I looked absolutely wild. My eyes and skin were glowing, almost as if the lightning were coming from me rather than through me.
When the final bolt hit me on screen, I flinched in real life.
My bare arms wore the telltale marks of tonight’s efforts. I was covered in the spider-web red-purple vines of the Lichtenberg figures. They’d been worse, but they still made my skin feel exceptionally tender.
What I’d never realized before was you could see the exact moment they appeared.
When the bolt hit me, my skin turned pure white, as if I were made of solid energy rather than corporeal form. I radiated in the most literal sense of the word. It was stunning. Through that glow I could make out a purple light snaking its way across my skin, as if tiny bolts of lightning were crawling all over me.
The marks.
As the bolt vanished, I continued to glow.
I fucking sparkled.
I set down my food for a second and pointed my chopsticks at the TV. “Does it always look like that?”
Cade had been munching on a spring roll and didn’t appear as stunned by the video as I was. He’d probably already watched it. Plus, he’d been around when I’d put on a light show before. This wasn’t his first rodeo.
Leo, too, looked nonplussed. He might be new to my little song and dance, but he’d also seen how it all worked up close and personal. Sawyer, however, was staring at the screen with her chicken paused halfway to her mouth.
She’d seen the same show in person only hours earlier, but maybe something about the camera angle was reminding her just how crazy it had been.
Cade was the first to answer my question. “Yeah. That time Seth touched you was different. Scarier. But normally it’s like this.” He nodded at the screen, then glanced over at me. “You’ve never seen yourself do it before? Not in all these years?”
I shook my head. “I’m not usually all that preoccupied with the idea of setting up a camera. I’m normally doing it for a reason, not an audience.”
I wanted to rewind the broadcast and watch it again, but this TV apparently only did live streams.
Leo set his carton down and scratched his chin. “It’s a pretty impressive show.”
“You look so…shiny,” Sawyer offered. “I mean you actually look like you’re a goddess.”
“Shh,” I scolded her, as if someone might be listening. It was sacrilegious to compare yourself to a god. Especially for those of us who used their power. If anyone suspected we might be anything other than humble and obedient, we could be killed. Still, my cheeks flushed with a weird kind of pride to hear her say it.
“Oh you shhhh,” Leo countered. “If the girl wants to tell you you look beautiful, let her tell you. I’m the only one in this room who is remotely godlike, and I say it’s fine.”
“You really did look beautiful,” Cade whispered. His voice was so low I wasn’t sure if Leo or Sawyer heard it or if they were just too polite to acknowledge it. Cade glanced at me, and I rubbed my scarred arms self-consciously.
He had seen me at my most powerful, my most ferocious. He’d seen me at my worst, when I was covered in the dirt of a stranger’s grave. And he’d seen me like this, shoving takeout food into my mouth like it might be the last Chinese food on Earth.
He’d seen all that and still thought I was beautiful.
In that moment, I let myself think the words I hadn’t dared admit up until right then.
I love you, you unlucky motherfucker.
Chapter Twenty-Six
A few hours later I woke up to the sound of Sawyer snoring. The guys had left a bit after midnight, after a huge dent had been made in the food.
The leftover Chinese food had been neatly arranged on the coffee table in the living room, and the four room-service carts were gone.
According to the clock it was almost three in the morning. I wondered when I’d passed out. I didn’t even remember getting into bed, and I was still wearing my gown from the Grand Canyon show.
I undid the dress with little fanfare, then hung it in the closet beside my black dress. The jersey cotton was so sad and basic next to the gown. How could a dress still be that beautiful and alive without anyone in it? It seemed unfair.