Chapter 95

Whit


To review: there are any number of life-threatening crises on our hands at the moment. 1) Byron's gone loco. 2) In a few minutes his wild, feral team may go from chilling to killing. 3) Mrs. H.'s apartment is a major fire hazard, and Wisty's humongous flames have already lit up all the curtains, the rug, and the wallpaper, which is badly burned. 4) I'm still at risk of being hauled off to The One if I can't get control of the situation.

I have to try to extinguish Wisty's flames somehow. But I can't control fire. I know it in my bones-that's Wisty's Gift. But if I focus on Mrs. H.'s cauldron-Can I move it? It's filled with liquid, after all.

The pack is growling louder and louder, so I have no choice.

It's an act of desperation, but I focus my mind and manage to lift Mrs. Highsmith's barrel. Then I will it to fly across the room.

Whatever Mrs. H. was cooking, I'm not sure it was fit for human consumption, since it's as effective as foam from a fire extinguisher. Wisty's flame flickers out, and Byron-with no trace of burnt clothing, hair, or skin-drops to the floor.

Wisty's dripping with gruel and rather dazed by what just happened but still sharp enough to realize what she should do next. She unbinds me and removes my gag, all the while staring at the ape-kids, who definitely seem to respect her abilities with fire.

"You stay back or I'll fry you!" she warns. She even throws off a few fresh, sizzling flames.

Then my little sister helps me up, and I realize she's a lot stronger than she looks. "That was so totally messed up," she says quietly. "Let's get out of here while we still can."

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