Witch and Wizard_ The Fire - James Patterson [75]
The earth shakes as a seam splits along the ground, knocking my parents off their feet as they scramble from its widening lip. Dust particles dance in the air as the ground crumbles inward, and the layers of red clouds darken and multiply as the wind rages, making the once-still river begin to churn and foam. The hill running down from the bone forest seems to grow before our eyes, and it belches and groans as lava bubbles over its surface.
It’s utter pandemonium as everyone scrambles and lurches to stay out of the way of flooding water and falling rock. My dad pulls me to him, and Whit and Celia lead us higher on the bank. The masses huddle and cry out against the onslaught. Most of the people here are already dead, but apparently death does not kill fear.
The only person who is unafraid, it seems, is my mother. Mom is weak, tottering, half dead, but she’s still a force to be reckoned with as she steps toward The One once again. Her eyes narrow.
“You say you stand for order, for what is right, but you’ve interrupted the natural order of things, the rhythm and flow of everything that makes us human in life and in death.” My mom is a born public speaker, and her voice echoes across the audience of the dead. “Even here at this sacred river, no one can cross over because of what you’ve done.”
Mom’s voice rises, full of conviction and courage. “You are nothing!” she shouts at The One Who Is The One, ruler of the entire Overworld, and now, it seems, the Underworld, too. Even if we die in the next moment, I have never been more proud of her.
“How dare you.” The One’s voice is low, deadly. I almost don’t hear it above the rising wind. My mom doesn’t flinch and stands tall and proud next to the other wavering souls of the dead on this gravelly bank. “You once had such potential yourself, Eliza. And now look at you — barely a bag of bones. Didn’t I already kill you once?”
Mom reaches for Dad’s arm but never gets that far. She’s suddenly, violently ripped from the earth as if by an invisible hand and flung high into the air among the ominous clouds. She twists, her face a grimace, her body shaken and slammed against an invisible wall. As she writhes in agony above our heads, not a soul can turn away from the gruesome theater.
Which is exactly what he wants. To break us.
“He’s going to snap her neck!” Dad yells.
I feel panicked, out of control as The One whips our mother back and forth across the sky like a shooting star. I said I’d never lose her again. …
Think, Wisty. Use your power, your Gift. My mind races. Fire … a shooting star …
That’s it! I grip my brother’s hand and pull everything I can from Whit’s M. I feel it shifting, building, growing within me, light and heat and electricity expanding until my power erupts from my fingertips. I stare, breathless.
Together we’ve created a giant, burning mass of rock surging across the sky.
The crowd gasps as a shower of sparks trails behind the meteor. It’s terrifying and blindingly beautiful at once — the most spectacular firework anyone has ever seen.
I’ve never attempted anything on this scale, and I’m almost scared that it worked. I wince and heave. It’s kind of like trying to hold a giant umbrella open in the middle of a hurricane — nearly impossible to control. This thing is barreling toward us at startling speed, and I’m not sure I can steer it where it needs to go. I’m straining so hard that a shriek escapes from my pressed lips.
Whit sends another powerful surge of M through me, and at the last second I manage to jackknife the fireball away from the crowd, sending it careering directly to where The One is standing.
Only he isn’t standing there anymore.
Instead it plows straight into the crack in the earth that The One’s quake left. The ground shakes, and people are strewn helter-skelter. The impact missed The One entirely, but the distraction breaks his connection with my mother.
Which means her limp, rag-doll body is falling rapidly through the air.
“Mom!” I scream.
But as I watch, her descent slows, and she floats down as if immersed in water. Whit catches