Fearless Warrior: Isaacson Trilogy Book Two

32

"Now would be the perfect time for you to do your favorite trick, Marigold," Theadora hissed as she suddenly appeared at Esmund's feet.

In the blink of an eye, Marigold stood directly in front of The Matron; her head cocked to the side and her hair floating around her as it had been when she'd first met Esmund.

The Matron's face remained hidden in impenetrable shadow, but she quickly stepped away from Marigold and started chanting as she swirled her hands in an intricate pattern.

Sparks burst to life and danced in the air directly in front of her. The unbearable pressure in Esmund's chest ceased, and his lungs expanded as he coughed and took a large gasp of air. His strength slowly returned, and he rolled to his knees, preparing for the next wave of her attack. "Where's Elsie and Nora?"

"Dealing with Montclair," Dorathea patted his shoulder, "don't worry dear, they'll be here momentarily." She moved her hand down his arm, squeezing each swell of muscle until Theadora slapped her hand away.

Marigold skipped back a few paces and winked at Esmund, "Ready?"

"Just get to it already," Theadora groaned, "I'll never understand why you have to be so cryptically dramatic in everything you do."

"How else are you to know when I'm about to do something spectacular?" she sang with a smile, holding her hands straight above her head. Heavy clouds formed overhead within seconds, and the air became noticeably wet until droplets of water budded along the walls and furniture.

The Matron's chanting increased, and sparks quickly swirled and formed into a massive fireball that grew in size until it illuminated the entire room. Whether from the effects of the water weakening her power or the light of the fireball, the shadows hiding The Matron's identity lessened and showed she had an uncanny resemblance to Piper.

Was it just another trick of the evil witch? He highly doubted it, but it could be possible. Marigold told him not to believe what he saw within Briarwood, but that was before rain fell in a torrential downpour from the walls and ceiling. The fireball sputtered, and the shadows around The Matron's face shifted again, altering her identity.

He blinked, convinced his eyes were playing tricks on him, but a minute later, she caught his gaze and winked. Esmund snarled as rage poured through his veins.

"What is that I see in your eyes, Esmund?" Piper laughed, "You think I've betrayed you, is that it?" Her mouth curled in a sneer, "It's a feeling I know all too well."

"We trusted you!" He roared.

"Yes, fools that you were," She mocked, "I've always known I was born for the stage, and these last few days were my best performance. Why even I was moved to tears on several occasions," she winked, and her lips bent into a cruel smile, "as you'll recall."

"You lied to us! Everything you said was tailored to manipulate us."

"No," She blasted him backward with a gust of energy, slamming him into the wall, "everything I told you was the truth...I simply left out a few minor details."

"Minor details?" Esmund scoffed, pushing away from the wall. "I doubt you even had a son, let alone one you accidentally killed."

"How dare you speak of him!" Piper screeched. She picked up a chair and threw it at him. "You have no right."

Theadora and Dorathea deflected the chair, slamming it against the opposite wall as they took up position in front of Esmund and swung their arms forward as they shot electric-blue bolts of energy in rapid succession at Piper, knocking her off-balance.

It was like watching a massive lightning storm brighten the room in hectic bursts of blinding light. Each bolt singed and sizzled upon contact, leaving burning embers and scorch marks on Piper's skin and clothing.