The Legend of the Eight: The Gifted

23: Pleasing a Storm

TWENTY-THREE: PLEASING A STORM
MARCH 1
KATE DIAMOND

THEY WERE FOOLISH TO THINK they could have prevented those people from dying. At least, that's what Kate told herself in the days that followed the tragedy of the full moon.

Drew shifted back into his human form hours after midnight, waking up on the floor of the barn with chains holding him into place. Liam freed him and Drew retreated to his bed. He slept the rest of the day.

Those closest to him did what they could to assure him that what happened wasn't his fault.

"You weren't you," Wil told him which only made him angrier.

He stormed out to the backyard where he used wood-chopping as a means of controlling his rage. He worked his way through half a tree by the time Wil finally went out to talk to him and Kate watched their conversation from the kitchen window.

She couldn't hear what they were saying but from the looks of the sharp tongues and expressive hands, it wasn't a calm conversation. At one point, Wil said something that must have struck a chord with Drew because he looked at her for a long time before sneering something in reply and she stormed away with a determined look in her dark green eyes.

The kitchen door slammed when Wil walked back inside and she kicked her boots off irritably. She stripped off her coat and left it with the boots on the floor where the snow melted and puddled on the tile. Wil hoisted herself up onto the counter and began picking through a bowl of almonds, her jaw tensing as she did.

"He can be such a dick sometimes," she said as crunched an almond between her teeth. "We all knew that potion was a long shot anyway. No one knew if it was even going to work and even if it did... Voodoo? None of us are stupid enough to mess with that."

Kate almost mentioned how some of them were stupid enough to mess with Voodoo and that the stupidity was only a result of sheer desperation. But she knew better.

"Besides, people die all the time," Wil said next and Kate wasn't sure if she was even talking to her. It was more like she was talking to herself. "It was a necessary sacrifice. If the Darks came to the World of Magic, they wouldn't just come for us. They'd destroy everything. Imagine how many people would've died then!"

Kate stared into her tea. She hated to admit it, but Wil was right. The thirty-six people who sacrificed their lives for the spell were just a fraction of those that would have died had the Darks been free to roam the World of Magic.

Outside, there was a strong gust of wind and the lights above the kitchen island flickered. Wil turned over her shoulder to peer at Drew through the window again and Kate put her tea down.

"We should be prepared in case the storm knocks out the power," she said. "Firewood, blankets, candles... I think Liam said there were some lanterns in the barn."

Wil snorted through a laugh. "We are in a magical house that restocks the pantry and cleans itself. You really think it'll lose power in a snowstorm?"

SURE ENOUGH, AROUND SEVEN THAT night, the power at the house went out and the Eight were forced to rely on fireplaces for warmth and candles for light. Outside, a blanket of navy darkened the sky and inside, Kate was surprised by the silence. Without the hum of machines, the only noise came from the crackle of the fire and what little conversation was made.

Liam made a trip out to the barn in an attempt to locate a generator but he returned shortly after. He knocked off a thick coat of snow once he was inside and rubbed his hands together for warmth.