CHAPTER 47
"Then you'll die with the abomination," the Mother snarled, her hand swept downward, a sharp, dismissive motion.
From her fingertips, the dark curls of smoke fell to the floorboards like liquid ink. The moment they touched the wood, they began to swim, lengthening into Shadows of snakes that hissed with a sound.
"Back up!" Clara hissed to Isabella as she scrambled toward the window. Isabella didn't need to be told twice. She retreated until her shoulder blades hit the frame.
The shadow-snakes moved with a sickening intelligence, weaving around the fallen furniture, ignoring the quiet Sentinel in the corner to focus entirely on their targets.
"Clara, What do we do." Isabella eyes were wide as the first of the shadows reached the edge of the bed.
"I have no spark, Isabella! Use your eyes!" Clara snapped, though her hands were frantically searching the floor for anything—a heavy book, a piece of iron—anything that could hold a physical ward.
