“I see,” Emily said, even though she didn’t.
“So in the end, the man healed himself. I just showed his cells how and gave them the tools they needed.”
Emily looked at the road. Now Aunt Anastacia was being modest. Emily decided she wasn’t going to take the bait, so they wouldn’t spend the next five or so minutes debating about her aunt’s moral obligations.
“What you did,” Aunt Anastacia said, just as they were coming up on Main Street. Her eyes were peeled out on the sunny road. “When you healed your father—that was pure, complete healing.”
“But you just said healing someone was impossible,” Emily asked, confused.
“Yes,” Aunt Anastacia said. “But you did it nonetheless. I suppose there are some theories in magic you’re now upending.”
They drove down the street for about a minute before the mansion loomed out of the horizon. It stood on the right side of the road. Portions of its southeastern end were charred, but otherwise, it was still standing.
There was not a soul in sight. In fact, Emily hadn’t seen a soul since they left the safe house. Aunt Anastacia had said the spell hanging on the town could be used to control the populace. She said that right now, the order being issued from the spell was for people to remain inside—whether in their homes, workplaces, malls—wherever they were when the spell had been cast. That was how they knew that Michael’s father was probably going to be at the vigilantes’ headquarters.
Aunt Anastacia parked adjacent to the castle, but three houses down. From their vantage point, they could see people moving about. Emily counted five or so security men, who appeared to be very conscious and sentient. They looked alert, too, surveying everywhere in the air and around. Their guns were also odd-looking.
“What’s that?” asked Emily, motioning to the special, space-age weapon the nearest guard at the gate held.
“It’s a tranquilizer gun,” answered Aunt Anastacia. “They might not be able to use magic on you, but that doesn’t mean they can’t tranquilize you.”
Emily swallowed hard. She hadn’t considered that. “Who do you think these men are?”
“Maybe werewolves? I know the Alfreds have some supernaturals loyal to their cause.”
“Only a few, I hope,” Emily muttered.
Aunt Anastacia scoffed. “They have an army—made up of both living and undead. Werewolves. Fae. Zombies. Vamps—including the one who turned their horrid little girl.”
At that statement, Emily’s head whipped toward her aunt so fast it was a blur. “Wait, what?” She knew her aunt must be talking about Alice.
“Yeah.” The woman waved her hand nonchalantly. “Alice isn’t the youngest Alfred sibling even though she looks twelve.”
“I had figured that much out for myself already.” Emily flipped her braid over her shoulder. “So are they all hundred-year-old vampires then or what?”
Anastacia shook her head. “Just her. And she’s not that old. Maybe in her late twenties now. But she is evil to the core.”
“No kidding.”
“She was already a powerful witch, even at a young age,” Anastacia continued. “Maybe even more so than her parents. But that wasn’t enough. She wanted the heightened strength, agility, and physical regeneration that comes with being a vampire. Plus—obviously—immortality.”
Emily grimaced.
Anastacia gripped the steering wheel harder. “On top of all that, supernatural powers are accelerated when one becomes a vamp. She was so power-hungry she convinced her parents’ most powerful vampire associate to turn her. He initially refused, because she was too young, so she slit her throat in front of him.”
“Oh, my God!”
“Yeah. She’s insane. But clever. She knew that would not only trigger his bloodlust, but also put him in a predicament. He had to turn her right then and there or she would bleed out and die within moments. Then her parents would have him staked.”
With her mouth hanging open, Emily tried to process that horrific story. “How do you know all this?” she finally asked after she found her voice.
“I’ve traded info with a few of their vampire associates.” Aunt Anastacia looked over both her shoulders before cracking open her car door. “Now let’s go.”
Typical Anastacia. Pragmatic to a fault.
When none of the guards were looking their way, they alighted from the car and ran to the back of it, ducking down behind the trunk.
“Are you ready?” Anastacia checked in with her niece.
Emily could feel anxiety coursing through her blood. This wasn’t what she hoped to experience in that moment. She hoped, by that point, the fire demon would be ready to blast out of its cage and scream fire.
As Emily thought about her answer, Aunt Anastacia opened the trunk slowly and pulled out the two jars. They had already started jiggling, ready to be unearthed.
“Emily?” Aunt Anastacia sounded wary.
Tell her you’re ready, Selena prompted.
“I’m ready!” Emily hoped she sounded eager, even though she was squirming in terror. Where was all her anger when she needed it?
Aunt Anastacia didn’t look convinced by Emily’s response. Before she could frame words, she got distracted by the comms in her ears. She slanted her head a bit to the right and placed her fingers in that ear.
“Okay . . . ,” she said after a moment.
Pause.
“Yes, we’re in position,” Aunt Anastacia announced. “We can see the house. There are a few guards—probably supernaturals—outside, guarding the building. It’s safe to say that there might be more than a few down there.”
Another pause.
“We’ll start right away,” Aunt Anastacia said. “Hopefully, the noise we make and destruction we wreak will draw most of the fire power to us.”
Another pause.
“When you hear the loud explosion, know that we have engaged,” Aunt Anastacia finished. “Godspeed and see you soon.”
Ending the conversation with Dad, Aunt Anastacia fixed a serious gaze on Emily. “Now or never. Where’s all that rage?”
That was all Emily needed to flip that switch. The fire demon seemed to have awoken, because she felt an inhuman surge of rage within her. Without thinking, she jumped to her feet and took off in the direction of the castle’s front gate, screaming at the
