Witch And Wizard: Fire Part 21

Whit IT HAPPENS IN seconds.

The pregnant clouds loom over us, thick and ominous, dark shadows appearing on our faces. It starts to rain.

In the next moment, my sister is no longer my sister.

Her eyes roll back into her head, and foam gathers at the corners of her lips.

Bolts of electricity light up the red sky, and Wisty's body shakes and shudders. The lightning is coming from her - from her Gift - but she's not controlling it.

He is.

"Wisty, no!" I shriek, lunging forward. My dad's strong arms hold me back.

"Don't touch her, Whit!" my mom sobs. "I can't lose you, too!" There is nothing any of us can do except watch as my sister's power surges into the sky, taking her with it.

But I can't watch. I have to figure out what to do, how to stop this thing. I turn away, stumbling over myself, but it's all happening too fast, too certainly, too powerfully. I can't decide what to do because all I can do is react.

Pellets of rain pound into us, along with sand and gravel kicked up by the wind.

The frothy waves of the river writhe like a bundle of snakes, the foam rising higher and higher before finally spilling over the sh.o.r.e and flooding the valley, carrying people away or pulling them under, even as I grab for them. The water crashes relentlessly into the bridge, finally splintering its supports and dragging it into the murky depths.

"No!" Celia shouts over the howling wind, stumbling forward, her hand outstretched. It's too late. The plaintive cries of other souls join hers. Without that bridge, no one will ever be able to cross over again.

I turn away from her pain, unable to help her right now. Because if I don't focus on the seam in the earth, which is getting deeper, wider, longer in mere seconds, running along the ground like an animal chasing our feet, I'll be swallowed up.

My mother and father lurch and stumble, following the crowds to higher ground. At least there are no buildings to crush us in this forsaken place.

It's all I can do to lock my knees against the thras.h.i.+ng wind and shut my eyes against the spray of water as the river churns cylindrically upward into the swirling waterspout of a tornado.

And the whole time, my sister is a trembling, electrified zombie at the whim of a madman.

Do something, Whit.

I don't know where to go when everywhere I turn is death. I don't even know what I'm fighting. How can you target the air, the water, the earth, all at once without ever being able to see the person who's doing the damage?

Do something.

I guess I target the magic.

I squeeze my eyes tight against the nightmare, concentrate on fixing the damage done, on healing the wounded. On repairing the bridge. On the open gash of the earthquake closing like a slow zipper, the rocks s.h.i.+fting and groaning. On The One turning to smoke, hoping his reign will end the way he vaporized so many innocents before him.

But it doesn't work, not without Wisty, and when I open my eyes, it's getting worse: a frigid, unseen hand is sweeping over everything.

Icy air blasts along the sh.o.r.eline, and I follow with my eyes as the river freezes over, inch by inch. Hail tears through the sky, pelting down in sharp, relentless sheets that cut into my flesh. My breath billows in front of me, and ice crackles in my wet hair.

The valley is a luminous masterpiece, an ice world glistening under the red clouds. It's breathtaking.

But the implications of The One's power are devastating: h.e.l.l really has frozen over.

Chapter 80.

Whit THEN, AS IN every situation I think is hopeless, Celia appears at my side.

"Whit, I think I can help," she says, her glow seeming brighter in the chaotic darkness. I feel better with her here even as we brace against the unfathomable wind and debris.

And then I remember the power of the Half-lights. "Can you bring them? Can they defeat the darkness like they did before?" I shout over the raging weather and the screaming of the mult.i.tudes.

"No," she answers. "It doesn't work like that, not against an evil so complete."

"What can you do, then?" I nearly wail. I'm freezing, soaked to the bone in the land of the dead, and my sister is still hovering next to the river, power surging out of her as The One holds her in his iron clutches.

This is the definition of desperate.

"I can't explain," Celia says. "This is personal, Whit. You don't understand. He he came into my cell late at night. He came to my bedside."

"What do you mean? Did he -?" I feel sick.

"No, Whit. He's the one who murdered me!" she yells. "He strangled me with his bare hands. He killed me - to get to the two of you."

I'm speechless. And angry. My hands shake with the effort of containing my fury. I understand why Celia needs her vengeance.

Before I can ask what she's going to do, she runs. Away from me. Toward him. It.

"No, Celia, not like this!" I cry out. She doesn't listen.

She hurls herself into the eye of the storm. Into The One.

She disappears right into his evil, swirling ma.s.s, and in seconds the storm has absorbed her like another small fleck of sand.

I lurch forward, screaming her name.

But she's gone. Consumed.

Chapter 81.

Wisty I WAKE UP lying on the hard, icy ground, feeling like I've been beaten up but oddly rejuvenated.

The Shadowland is in utter turmoil, with dead people stumbling around screaming and hail tearing through the air.

I spot Whit sobbing farther downstream. I make my way over to him, still kind of dazed, and when I touch his shoulder, he jumps, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. He's staring at me like I'm a monster, and I suppose I look like one.

"Wisty?" he croaks, touching my face, unbelieving. He envelops me in his arms and then holds me back to look at me again. "Wist, excuse me, but how how the heck are you still alive?"

"Not really sure about that," I admit. "Are you okay?" I eye his dirty, tear-stained face.

"He took Celia," my brother says, and his face is distorted with grief. "I mean she sacrificed herself. I think she saved your life. It must've broken the connection. It's all over " Whit trails off, his speech disjointed with shock.

I feel awful about Celia, but what he's just told me makes me realize something: we still have a chance.

"It's not over, Whit. Not by a long shot. If I can survive prolonged electrocution and you can survive losing the person you love the most, it just proves we're getting stronger. We're finally ready, finally strong enough to end him."

"And if it doesn't work?" Whit asks, his voice already defeated. "Are you ready for our own end as well?"

"Yes," I answer. What other choice do I have? This is the Prophecy; this is our purpose. And if we fail well, life's not going to be worth living anyway. "Are you?" I whisper.

"If it means joining her, yeah," Whit says, and my heart breaks for him.

But there's nowhere to go but forward. "One last shot?" I ask.

"Let's do this, little sis." Whit nods, reliable until the very end, always willing to do anything it takes.

So, once again, Whit and I turn to face this world crumbling around us. We face our nemesis, The One Who Is The One, The One Who Wants To Play G.o.d, The One Who Disturbed The Order Of The Whole World, The One Who Must Pay.

If we go down, it'll be in a blaze of glory.

"Ready?" I ask Whit.

"As ever," he replies.

"Go!"

I erupt into flame, and it's my most epic fireball yet. I feel like a small sun rolling toward the river of ice, and the hail turns to light rain as my warmth hits the air. The heat around me is more intense than any I've ever generated, and the crowds of spirits s.h.i.+eld their eyes from the blinding blue-and-white flames licking at their faces. My fire rises higher and higher, vaporizing The One's ice into sizzling clouds of effervescent beauty.

It's awesome!

Whit uses his healing power to repair the drawbridge, the broken earth, and the mutilated bodies along the sh.o.r.e.

We're doing so much, so fast, it feels like we're unstoppable for a moment, but I can already feel our power waning as the tornado, still swirling, rakes its way toward us, driving up dirt and sand and growing by the second as it shrieks its tantrum. It towers above us, a ferocious monster pulling us with powerful magnetism into its dark depths.

Whit and I stare upward, mouths slack. We can't even see the top.

I grip my brother's hand, and we face our fate, but Whit's heart isn't in it without Celia, and I'm half afraid he's going to throw himself into that writhing, churning ma.s.s of debris and be consumed as well. His face is crumbling, disintegrating, then his eyes shut tight as if he's going to explode in pain.

I see the situation spiraling out of control. Without Whit, we'll lose our edge. That I know.

"Keep fighting, Whit!" I scream at my brother over the howl of the storm. "With everything you have. For Mom's sake, for Dad's sake." He's still not hearing me. "Come on, Whit! Do it for Celia!"

His eyes fly open, his purpose renewed.

And now everyone at the river - my parents; Janine; Emmet and Sasha; all of these spirits and bent, lost souls - chants the immortal words of the Prophecy, eyes shut against the furious wind: A boy and a girl, fated to rule all. Two will rise, and One will fall.

How can a mere poem, a chant, a Prophecy, compete with this force of evil? It seems insane.

But it's like Whit and I are absorbing all of the strength that has been long buried in these people, and all of the old magic our parents themselves possess. Whit squeezes my hand fiercely, and we throw every ounce of M we have at the beast. The effort of the intense concentration makes my head pound and my arms ache. I feel like sobbing. We're so close.

Then, something magical happens.

The tornado starts to dissolve, the water and sand and rock and ice falling to the ground as the swirling slows and the eye closes in on itself. I s.h.i.+eld my face but focus my M even more intensely. The One's armor falls away, the rain dries up, the raging winds cease their howling.

The One Who Is The One now stands in front of us again, nothing more than a man. He shudders, his eyes dull and unseeing.

"One will fall!" the crowds shout in unison. "One will fall!"

The throbbing at my temples becomes almost unbearable, and pain sears again behind my eyes as I focus every ounce of electrical power at him. I feel like I'm in a microwave on high, the colors vibrating all around me in hallucinogenic waves. I'm blacking out.

"ONE! WILL! FALL!"

The One's pupils dilate, his eyes two gaping black holes, and, as if possessed, he croaks, "A single spark!"

And then he just dissolves before our very eyes.

The crimson sky lights up with a bright blast like a bomb exploding, and the pressure lessens and lifts, the power slowly stops flowing from my fingertips, and I feel, for once, free.

It's real.

There's nothing left of Our Great and n.o.ble Leader but a dark, shadowlike stain flickering on the gray-pebbled bank. And, after a moment, even the shadow disappears.

I stare at that patch of ground for a long time. There's really nothing left.

My parents rush to Whit and me, and we're all choking on our tears and squeezing one another tightly, just grateful we're alive. But Whit breaks away from us.

Finally able to have his time to grieve, my brother collapses to his knees on the gravel. "Celia!" Whit yells. "Celia, no! Celia, please!" Sobs overtake my poor, wrecked, heartbroken brother, and it feels like the end of everything.

We've defeated The One, like the Prophecy said. The balance has been restored. But it doesn't mean life will go back to the way it was. The One is gone, but many other things are gone, too. Like the parents of so many of these children. Like our homes. Like our innocence. Like our loved ones.

"Come back!" Whit shouts, and I suppress a sob myself.

It wasn't supposed to feel like this.

Chapter 82.