Chapter 4

The morning sun broke through the gray clouds, casting long shadows across the muddy yard.

Enoch walked out onto the back porch. Both of his hands were wrapped in thick, white bandages. He glared at Clare, who was standing by the chopping block. He wanted to hit her, but his stomach twisted with fear every time he looked at her. He spat on the wooden floorboards and went back inside.

Clare picked up the heavy iron axe. It was almost as tall as she was. She focused her mind, letting a tiny fraction of the golden energy flow into her arms. The heavy metal suddenly felt as light as a twig. She swung it down, splitting the thick log perfectly in half.

Tabitha Pruitt walked out the back door. She carried a tin plate. She tossed it onto the dirt near Clare's feet.

On the plate sat a single slice of bread, covered in green mold.

Clare looked at the bread. Her stomach growled loudly, but she didn't touch it. She kicked the plate away. The bread landed in a puddle of muddy water.

"Ungrateful little bitch," Tabitha muttered, turning away.

Gus Pruitt swaggered out from behind the barn. Two other teenage boys followed him. Gus held a wooden slingshot in his hand.

He pulled a sharp stone from his pocket and loaded it. He pulled the rubber band back and aimed right at Clare's head.

Thwack.

The stone hit Clare squarely on the forehead. The skin broke instantly. A warm line of blood trickled down her brow, stinging her eye.

The boys laughed loudly.

Clare didn't flinch. She dropped the axe. She turned and locked her eyes directly onto Gus.

Gus's laughter died in his throat. He took a step back, suddenly feeling very cold. But his friends were watching. He couldn't look weak.

"What are you looking at, freak?" Gus yelled. He stomped forward, raising his fist to shove her.

Clare didn't move her body. She moved her mind.

She visualized the space right in front of Gus's boots. She imagined a solid, invisible wall.

Gus's right foot hit the invisible barrier. His ankle twisted violently. He lost his balance completely. He pitched forward, his arms flailing in the air.

He slammed face-first into the hard, packed dirt.

A sickening crunch echoed in the yard. Gus rolled over, screaming in agony. Blood poured from his mouth. Two of his front teeth were missing.

His friends gasped and rushed forward to help him up.

Gus pushed them away. His face was covered in mud and blood. He looked at Clare with pure, unhinged rage. He charged at her, screaming a string of curses.

Clare stood her ground. She focused her energy into a tight, heavy ball inside her head. When Gus was three feet away, she released it.

She slammed the invisible weight directly into Gus's mind.

Gus stopped dead in his tracks. He shrieked, a high-pitched sound of pure terror. He dropped to his knees and clutched his head with both hands. His eyes rolled back. He saw massive, black shadows reaching out from the mud to drag him to hell.

"My head! Get them off me!" Gus screamed, thrashing in the dirt.

Tabitha heard the screaming and ran out of the house. She saw her grandson convulsing on the ground.

"Gus!" she shrieked.

Clare instantly pulled the pressure back. She lowered her head and made herself look small and frightened.

Tabitha spun around. Her eyes were wild. "What did you do to him?!"

She lunged at Clare, her hands reaching for Clare's hair.

Clare simply stepped to the left. Tabitha's heavy body flew past her. Tabitha tripped over the chopping block and crashed into the mud pile.

The screen door banged open. Enoch stood there. He held a loaded shotgun. He pumped the action, aiming the barrel right at Clare's chest.

Clare looked down the dark barrel of the gun. Her heartbeat remained perfectly steady. She stared into Enoch's eyes.

Enoch's hands began to shake. He remembered the purple lightning. He remembered the smell of his own burning flesh. His finger rested on the trigger, but he couldn't pull it. His breathing grew ragged.

Tabitha sat up in the mud, holding the sobbing Gus. "Kill her, Enoch! Shoot her!"

Enoch slowly lowered the gun. He couldn't do it. He backed into the house and slammed the door.

Clare turned her back on them. She picked up the axe and went back to chopping wood.

High above the clouds, the faint, rhythmic thumping of helicopter rotors began to vibrate through the damp air.