Chapter 24
Kellyn reveled in the freedom to do and be whatever she wanted. Thank the moon she was out of that hideous internment camp. For a second, she thought about the look of stunned shock on the faces of the two Eternals. Then she smiled and dismissed them for the moment.
She waved a hand at the ATM machine and instantly it spat out hundreds of dollars. She smiled again and tucked the money away in the designer bag she’d helped herself to at the department store inside Union Station. A train station for most of its life, the Beaux Arts building was today something of a national treasure, Kellyn mused.
Once a center for train travel, now the building with the arched ceilings and intricately carved plasterwork and acres of marble flooring was home to an upscale shopping center. Which, Kellyn told herself, was exactly what she had been looking for. After too long in prison drab, she’d needed to see something stylish. A chance to get lost in a well-dressed crowd and entertain herself with the game of using her power to obfuscate herself when she wanted to.
Of course, she could have spelled herself any clothing and accessories she wanted. It was nothing to snap her fingers and materialize a Coach bag or a glorious pair of Prada shoes. But it was more fun to walk into a store and walk back out with whatever she desired, knowing no one would-or could-stop her.
“Really, humans are just so simple,” she whispered, glancing around at the traffic streaming up and down Massachusetts Avenue. D.C. in late September was still hot and muggy, but she didn’t care. With a chant and a burst of power, she regulated her own temperature so that she was perfectly comfortable.
She took a breath and caught the scent of banked power. There was another witch here somewhere, no doubt trying to hide amid the throngs. The Awakening witches weren’t the only women of power on the earth. Witches had been here since the beginning of time. But they had kept their magic a secret until that first Awakened witch had made her former lover a tiki torch. Now, none of them was safe.
Her eyes narrowed as she slowly surveyed the people around her. Witches were plentiful, but those on the loose were a dying breed. Most were either in prison or in hiding. For one brief moment, Kellyn considered finding the witch, seeing if perhaps she might become useful. But there were so many people, each of them with mind whirling, that picking the one witch out of this crowd would take more work than she was willing to invest.
She wasn’t here to collect stray witches. Leave that to the Eternals. Like the ones who had rescued her.
Bless the fools, she told herself with another smile. With that damn white gold around her neck, she might have ended her existence right there in the damn prison. And what a waste that would have been.
She stepped out onto the sidewalk, moving with the crowd, keeping the rhythm of the city under her feet so that she was just another pedestrian. A faceless person lost in the crowd.
At the corner, she stopped to wait for a green light and noticed an old man wearing threadbare clothes, sitting on a curb beside a grocery cart towering with his possessions. He held a hand-lettered cardboard sign that read HOMELESS.
Well, duh, Kellyn thought. She watched as mortals walked past the old man, eyes averted. Going on about their busy lives, their oh, so important lives, they didn’t even slow down as they hurried down the street. It was as if as long as they didn’t notice him, he simply didn’t exist.
And something inside her burned. Before she could think twice about it, she walked toward the old man, who stared up at the crowd through bleary eyes. Her gaze swept quickly over the laden cart, noting everything from papers and cans to be recycled to a dog collar and leash and several copies of National Geographic magazine. His treasures, she thought wryly, as she dipped one hand into her bag and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill.
Offering it, she said, “Take this. Get off the street for a night.”
He saw the money and a delighted smile curved his mouth. He then turned those rheumy blue eyes to her, and his smile withered and died.
“No,” he muttered, shaking his head as he staggered to his feet.
“What?” Kellyn watched, astonished, as he hurriedly pushed his sign into the mess inside the cart.
Someone bumped into her in their hurry to cross the street. She hardly noticed.
“No, no, won’t see,” he whined in a singsong voice, shaking his head until his long gray hair floated like snakes in water about his head.
“What are you talking about? I’m offering you help,” she said, in case he’d missed the whole point of this exercise.
He actually flinched, hunching his shoulders until he looked like an elderly turtle. “Won’t see the dark inside her,” he sang to himself. “Won’t see it, not there.”
What the hell?
Kellyn glanced around, to see if anyone was listening to the old man, but naturally, no one was. What was it he saw when he looked at her? From somewhere deep inside her mind, a voice cried out, demanding to be heard, but Kellyn shut it down. Just as she dismissed this one old man.
She crumpled the hundred-dollar bill in her fist and squeezed. Someone else crashed into her and this time Kellyn whipped her head around, prepared to fight.
“Jeez, sorry, lady,” the kid in baggy jeans and a faded T-shirt said. “Power down, huh?”
Power down? Not likely. Her power was rising, filling her, nearly choking her with the urge to burst free and obliterate her surroundings. Even Kellyn was shaken and nearly breathless from the eagerness writhing inside her.
The kid stared at her until his skin paled and his eyes were wide and horrified. Kellyn saw his fear and drank it in as ambrosia. This was what she thrived on. Fear. Horror. The old man was no more than a blip. Everyone else looked at her and saw only what she wanted them to see. She smiled, and the teenager grabbed up his skateboard and darted into the crowd, dissolving into anonymity.
Kellyn stared after him, fighting for control, holding on to the reins of the power within her even as her skin tingled.
A whimper caught her attention and she swung back around to see the old man shuffling away from her as fast as he could. The broken wheel on his cart sounded out a quick whappeta-whappeta as he went, his shoulders hunched as if expecting a blow, and still he threw a look at her over his shoulder.
“Won’t see,” he chimed again, “pretty lady with the dark inside. Won’t see it. Not there, not there at all.”
People stepped away from him as if he were somehow contagious. The crowd pushed into the street as the light changed, and Kellyn was still standing, rooted to the spot, watching that crazy old man run from her.
It was as if he’d somehow sensed what was crouched inside her. Was he so much more attuned than the rest of these ignorant humans?
Interesting. She watched him go and thought about following. Killing him. Watching the light drain from his already ruined eyes. But what would be the point? Even if he tried to tell someone what he’d glimpsed of her true nature, who would believe him? Hell, who would listen to him? She’d bring more attention to him with his death than he would ever draw alive.
“No,” she whispered. “Leave him to his misery.”
Shaking her head, she dismissed the old goat and walked down the street, feeling a hot breeze ruffle her spiky hair. She had things to do and no time to waste on unimportant details.
Pausing at a newsstand, she let her gaze scan the headlines quickly.
ESCAPED WITCH! DOZENS DIE IN BOTCHED MAGIC PLOT. WITCH ON THE
She smiled to herself.
“More than one,” she murmured.
