Free Playing Against Type: Soulgirls, Book 4 by Heather Long Page B

table.
    “Yes.” She practically hissed the word. Her hands tightened into fists. “They take and take and take—they cannot be allowed to take her too.”
    “You seem to be under the misguided notion that she was a victim in all of this. Overseers aren’t victims. They’re ones who roll the dice. Sometimes the House loses, but don’t deceive yourself. She controlled your fate and she could have cut you off at anytime.” Fairuk’s continued existence niggled at him. She belonged, body and soul to his mother—or so he thought. If Marguerite were truly dead, shouldn’t Fairuk have been extinguished as well?  
    The rules said that Overseers do not allow their personal identities to be known. In the past, he knew of more than one child turned out—sacrificed to the altar of their power. Sometimes he envied those children—his life might have been kinder if his mother had turned away from him, but Marguerite had always played a dozen moves ahead.  
    “They killed her.” Grief rent through Fairuk’s hostility. “They killed her and took her away from me.”
    Maybe he didn’t care that his mother was finally dead. Perhaps her death meant his mortality was assured. She’d extended his life decades past when he should have died. “I’m sorry for your loss.” The words came out automatically. He’d comforted enough grieving families over the years to recognize she didn’t want reason or his side of anything. She wanted to lash out, she wanted to punish the people who hurt her—it didn’t matter why they acted as they did.
    “You’re sorry for my loss ?” Fairuk spat the words and hatred flared in her eyes. “Don’t be sorry. Be furious. Take them out, destroy them. I know what your mother did for you. I know you have the key— use it.”
    Well, at least she was honest. “That’s why you sent me the message. That’s why you wanted me here.”
    “Yes.” The air around her shimmered with hate. She didn’t want justice. She wanted destruction. “They take and take. They lure, entrap and destroy. Your mother was the only shining light in the darkness. If you won’t do something about it…”
    He expected the move. Expected it from the moment she arrived. Fairuk only disappointed him by being so sloppy. She lunged forward, a knife appearing in her hand. He caught her wrist, bent it backwards. The bones ground together, snapping like dried sticks in a silent forest. The magic holding her tethered coalesced in the air around her.
    Pity filled him.
    The veil around her slipped away, the threads of residual magic barely stitching her desiccated form together. She’d been dead for a long time. Yes, his mother—the shining light—held her together like a patchwork quilt, spell work knitting together her soul with her body. Like swirling inkblots, her magic resisted him, but it also knew him. His mother laid that spell work. Fairuk attacked with her free hand, nails curling into his cheek and tearing. Sharp, scalding pain lit up his face, but he ignored it and wrapped a hand around her throat.
    “I’m sorry, Fairuk. You should have been released when she died. But you don’t get to draw me like a weapon. I’m not your tool.” He didn’t have to apply pressure. The free flowing blood on his cheek and the scrapings of his skin under her nails were all that was needed.
    Two spells collided and he inhaled her magic, pulling it out of her molecules, like a super-charged magnet. The dancer’s struggles ceased and she opened her mouth in soundless scream. Her skin went solid. Like porcelain.
    Finn closed his eyes, but the dust of her explosion coated him and he choked, coughing. If nothing else let the Overseers know what he was capable of—the destruction of their property would.
    A brisk knock on the door cut through the silence.
    Of course…
     
     
    Pepper stared at the bags of loot on her bed. What was I thinking? Shopping like she was actually on vacation. She’d been away from the theatre less