Iris’s POV
"Get down here right now!"
My mother’s voice cut through the heavy silence of the second floor, sharp enough to slice skin.
I slammed the leather grimoire shut. The ink on the parchment had bled into black blurs hours ago anyway. My skin felt hot, tight, greasy with the phantom stench of burning copper and split intestines. The witch’s eyes must have rolled back into her skull before her chest cavity ruptured from the inside. I knew how my gift worked. It was messy. It was loud.
And Nixon had been standing right in the splatter zone.
I stood up, my knees popping in the quiet room. My legs trembled from hours of freezing at my desk, but I forced my feet to move. Down the hallway. Step by heavy step. The wood beneath my socks felt ice-cold.
I stopped at the entrance of the d
