Sweet Revenge Of The Stolen Heiress

"Get out!" Enoch roared. He grabbed Clare by the collar of her shirt and dragged her up the wooden stairs.

His hands were shaking. He didn't know why he was so terrified of a toddler, but the golden flash in her eyes made his stomach churn with nausea. He needed to be outside. He needed his family around him to prove he was still in charge.

He shoved Clare out the back door.

She stumbled onto the muddy ground of the compound yard. Cold, heavy raindrops immediately began to hit her face and arms. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. The mud squished between her fingers.

Kayleigh Pruitt walked out onto the porch. She held a steaming mug of coffee in both hands. A nasty smirk twisted her lips.

"Look at the little rat," Kayleigh sneered. She walked down the steps, her heavy boots sinking into the mud.

She stepped close to Clare, looming over her. "Stay in the dirt where you belong."

Clare steadied herself and rose to her knees. The physical discomfort was there, but it felt distant now.

Several other members of the survivalist community stood on their porches. They watched with blank, uncaring faces. No one moved to help.

Enoch marched down the steps. He wanted to erase the fear he felt in the basement. He picked up a thick, wooden branch from the firewood pile.

"I'll teach you to look at me like that," Enoch spat.

Clare looked up at the gray sky. The memory of her past life flashed behind her eyes again. She remembered dying alone. She would not let that happen again.

Her jaw clenched tight. Her fingernails dug deep into the muddy earth.

A hot, vibrating pressure built up behind her sternum. It matched the rhythm of the falling rain. As her anger spiked, the rain turned into a violent downpour.

The wind howled. It ripped across the yard, tearing the coffee mug right out of Kayleigh's hands. The ceramic shattered against a rock. Kayleigh stumbled backward with a shriek.

Enoch ignored the wind. He raised the wooden branch high above his head with both hands.

Clare tilted her head up. The golden light flared bright in her irises. She focused all the heat in her chest toward the storm above.

A deafening crack split the sky.

The black clouds above them spun into a tight, unnatural spiral.

A jagged bolt of purple lightning tore down from the clouds. It struck the tip of the wooden branch in Enoch's hands.

The wood shattered and flew from his grip in an explosion of splinters.

The electrical force threw Enoch off his feet. He landed hard in the mud. He lay there, dazed and trembling, staring at the sky with wide, terrified eyes. His hands shook uncontrollably. The smell of ozone and scorched wood filled the damp air.

Kayleigh screamed and scrambled backward, falling into the mud in her panic.

The community members on the porches gasped. Some crossed themselves. They backed away into their houses, their faces pale with terror.

Clare sat up slowly. The rain plastered her dark hair to her cheeks. She looked at Enoch's shaking form. Her breathing was perfectly steady. She felt the power receding back into her chest, leaving a satisfying warmth behind.

"Witch!" Kayleigh pointed a trembling finger at Clare. Her voice cracked. "Demon!"

Clare stood up. The mud dripped from her clothes. She took one slow, deliberate step toward Kayleigh.

Kayleigh scrambled backward on her hands and feet, sobbing in pure panic.

Control it, The Chronicler's voice echoed in Clare's mind. Do not expose yourself completely.

Clare stopped. She took a deep breath. She forced the golden light to fade from her eyes. She slumped her shoulders, instantly transforming back into a small, frightened girl.

Enoch rolled onto his side in the mud, gasping. He didn't dare look at Clare.

Far away, over the sound of the pouring rain, the low, heavy rumble of large engines echoed down the mountain road. Black SUVs were tearing through the mud, heading straight for the compound.