This is it. He's going to die, and I'll be free.
At the last second, he moved, and I was suddenly pinned up against the wall, the silver dagger now in his hand. He pressed the blade to my throat, a sadistic grin creeping across his face.
"Oh, Reese...
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The gentle breeze I'd managed to summon turned into a forceful gale. Anything small and light was thrown across the room, some shattering upon landing. Opal, who was standing closest to me, stumbled back a few steps, her eyes wide as she regained her footing. Rebecca and Evangeline, who were further away, weren't as affected by my sudden magical outburst.
"Excuse me?" I snapped onto my feet with speed worthy of any werewolf.
"Your dad was a werewolf," Rebecca said. "And he killed my mother."
"I think she heard you," Evangeline was braiding a section of her hair. "She's just trying to comprehend the information in her small half-human brain." She blinked. "Well, I guess she's not half-human anymore."
Bitch. I glared at the blue-headed werewolf, wondering if I could zap her with some lightning. Was that a part of air magic? It must be, since my magic felt like electricity.
Opal was staring at me, hazel eyes wide, her mouth slightly gaped. My attention immediately landed on the small chip in her front tooth, something that I had done - accidentally, mostly - when she'd been teaching me how to take on a magic-wielder. Only corrupt ones, she'd said. I don't want you slaughtering my people. That had been part of our deal, naturally. I hadn't argued or created a speech on how magic-wielders were as inhumane and crazy as any other supernatural being. That had been the start of my small moral code, though I'd chalked up my hesitation to knowing that Opal, a witch, had as much humanity as any human. Though now, I wondered if my pickiness at killing magic-wielders was due to the fact that I was one of them.
Which is why it didn't make sense that I was part-werewolf. I never had any difficulty in murdering them. I hated them more than anything else in the world, present company excluded - well, the jury was still out on Evangeline. My goal for so long had been to wipe out their species, to exact revenge on the chaos they've unleashed on the world. It was because of werewolves that my dad died. It was because of werewolves that vampires came out of hiding. It was because of werewolves that the residents of the safe house patrolled the streets at night, hunting for threats. So it was because of them that I lost Mom. Cedric. Thomas.
Myself.
I could deal with being a witch. I could accept that one of my parents was supernatural. Though a few magic-wielders were running around the city, abducting humans to use as test subjects on new spells and concoctions they create, I didn't have a personal vendetta against them. In fact, the majority of wielders in the city lived peacefully, never taking advantage of the oppressive state humans lived in, as Opal did. Most wielders that behaved poorly and exploited the system did so because they served those who paid them handsomely to do so. People like Christian Roy. People like Elijah Randon.
Besides my obvious dislike over anything dog-related, the exceptions being the blonde werewolf eyeing me with a guarded curiosity and the annoyingly adorable red-headed boy who was off elsewhere, another reason it was pretty much ludicrous to believe that I might be half-werewolf was my age. I was twenty-three. As far as I knew, werewolves began to transition in their teens, and it was obvious that they were supernatural from birth. Besides my augmented senses that could easily be because of my magic, I never showed any symptoms of being a werewolf.
