The Legend of the Eight: The Gifted

25: A Fine Mess

TWENTY-FIVE: A FINE MESS
MARCH 1
WIL DIAMOND

HIS MOUTH OPENED AND CLOSED like a fish while his coffee brown eyes pleaded with hers, like he wanted the opportunity to explain himself. But the words never formed on his tongue. Bartemius had his greedy fingers wrapped around Damon's shirt and to escape him, Damon jabbed his elbow back and tore out of his grasp.

Wil pushed through Drew and he tried to stop her but strong as he was, she was angrier. She met Damon at the top of the steps and when he saw her there, he seemed relieved. His eyes were soft once more and he had the makings of a smile slowly working its way onto his face. Like he'd never been so happy to see someone. Like he'd been waiting for her forever.

But then suddenly, the smile disappeared.

Wil balled her hand into a fist and she punched him square in the face. She heard something crunch—either her fingers or his nose, she couldn't be sure. She snatched her hand back quickly and cradled it against her chest.

"Shit!" she cursed at herself as the pain shot up her hand and through her wrist. "Mother f—"

If she was being honest, she'd never punched someone before—not like that. She'd only ever seen it done in movies and reality hurt a hell of a lot more. She inhaled through the pain and behind her, she heard the panic in Phoebe's voice when she said,

"Do it now." She was talking to Liam who was still inside the house. "Now."

Liam shot a jinx which shook the ground and knocked every Dark off their feet. Below, hiding in the bushes at the bottom of the porch, Nicole and Logan ignited a ring of powder which created an impenetrable wall of flames. Seven Darks were trapped in with them—more than they were hoping for but less than before.

All hell broke loose as the Eight battled it out with the Darks. Curses and jinxes shot through the air with reckless abandon but Wil ignored the fight. Her only focus was Damon—who stood before her in week-old clothes and with a lip that bled from when she'd hit him.

"Please," he begged as she opened her palm and pointed it at him, conjuring a new jinx. "Please let me explain."

"I trusted you!" she shouted and she swore she felt the house shake when she did. Her hand started to shake and the jinx shot out, missing Damon by a few inches. "My dad trusted you! We all trusted you!"

"Wil, please," he begged again, raising his hands defensively. "I know. And I know this looks bad but I swear I can—"

"You stole from us!" she shouted. "You brought them here!"

"I know! But I swear I—"

"You set us up!" she shouted, walking towards him until her palm pressed firmly against his chest. He'd get the full force of any spell she'd use. He'd be lucky if it didn't kill him but he didn't look afraid. He put his hand over hers, almost like he was encouraging whatever thing she was going to do to him.

"How could you do that to us?" Wil said through the tears, tearing her hand away. "How could you do that to me?"

"I swear," Damon said with desperate breaths but before he could say anything more, a yellow screw of magic shot through the air and struck Wil in the gut.

She let out a painful cry and fell to her knees, tumbling down the steps and landing in the snow. Catching her breath, Wil moved her hands to her stomach which was now warm and wet. Confused, she brought her hands into the light and when she did, she saw the thick, dark red liquid coating them. She gasped. It was blood. More blood than she'd ever seen before.