Sel stands at the end of the bar, both hands pressed into the sticky wood. “This is urgent. I need to pay my bill.”

“Hey, is this kid jumping the line, Alonzo?” Another voice, this one belonging to a tall, brown-skinned woman with a high silver bun. I jump up.

“Bree!” Alice says. “He said stay here!”

I ignore her and push through the crowd to get to Sel.

“He’s trying to,” Alonzo, the bartender, shouts back to the woman. He’s shorter than Sel, but much wider. He speaks around a toothpick. “Who are you here with again?”

I reach Sel’s side and tug on his elbow. “What the hell are you doing?”

He spares me a glance, then leans forward. “I’m a customer. I’m asking for quality service. Something that seems to be beyond the staff here.”

“What did you say?” The man’s eyes seem to gleam brighter for a moment. The silver-haired woman pulls her companion back, and the rest of the bar patrons pull away, leaving us alone near the counter.

“Sel!” I urge, tugging on his arm again. It’s no use.

Sel lifts his nose, sniffing the air. “I thought I smelled warlock.” His lips curl back in a dangerous grin. “I’d hoped it was just an exaggeration, but the rumors appear to be true. Pact magic leaves an awful stench.”

Alonzo inhales through his nose—and grows taller, wider, and the gleam in his eyes flares. I didn’t know what Sel meant before, but I can smell it now—rotten fruit, sour and rancid. Like aether gone bad.

Alonzo hops the bar and lands with a deep, earth-shattering thunk on the wooden floor, earning gasps from the group around him. He towers over both of us, a boulder of a man.

“Say that again.”

33

“STOP!”

I’m moving before I have time to think, stepping between the warlock and Sel, my hands pressed to Alonzo’s chest.

WHOOSH!

All at once, my hands and arms erupt in flames. Activated by the threat of Alonzo, my root appears at a full, roaring burn. Taller than the warlock, wider than us both, surrounding us in a column of fire.

Alonzo grabs both of my arms, squeezing, and power bursts from my mouth and eyes, blazing bright against the warlock’s face. He releases me, but my red flames stay with him, circling around his throat and his face, bringing him yelling to his knees.

Black smoke rises up from the warlock’s skin, swirling and dancing in the air above him. The crowd gasps and points.

As soon as the smoke appears, it swirls into a tornado turning, turning—then dissipates into nothing. The entire building has gone silent, watching us.

The flames recede from my fingertips and arms, up my forearms and back into my chest. Sel stumbles to my side.