Page 73 of Tricky Princess

“With the help of my daughter,” Cerce said loudly, and Ellea looked up. Her mother was looking directly at her. “We will bring in a new world and right the wrongs of our subservient ancestors.”

Ellea’s heart raced. She shouldn’t be seen. Was this a future vision?

“No,” her mother’s voice rang. “I see you, daughter. Don’t you see all I have accomplished?”

Her mother directed her to look at the group. It was a mix of vampires and demons, none she recognized. Movement snagged her attention. It was a large male, a vampire, and he didn’t seem to agree with what her mother was saying. He turned and walked away.

“You are all that’s left,” Cerce said. “Your powers will be what frees us all.”

The world turned, and she was back in the clearing with fire and destruction laid before her. She tried shaking her head; she’d seen enough. She pulled on the tether, ready to go home.

Ellea blinked, and her mother was directly in front of her. She jumped and stepped back, but her mother grabbed her by the throat, hauling her close to her face.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she hissed.

Ellea could smell her—stale sage and sour wine.

“No, this isn’t real.” Her voice wobbled as she gasped for air.

Her mother squeezed harder. Her voice was venomous as she said, “This is very real, and you aren’t going anywhere.”

Ellea clawed at her wrists, trying to pry her mother’s bony fingers from her throat, but her mother only cackled as she scratched hard enough to make her bleed.

“Poor little birdy, too scared to fly,” she seethed. “I should have pushed you out the window when I had the chance.

A tear escaped her eye as she was brought back to the threats her mother used to say to her when she was little. She remembered being kicked down the cellar stairs when she refused to use her magic. Her mother’s grip loosened, and Ellea felt warm hands on the side of her face. Come back.

“I’m trying,” she gasped.

Ellea dug deep, pulling at her magic.

Think, think; come on, think.

Spots and embers danced before her eyes. Embers—Ros—get back to Ros, to Billy. Warm phantom hands held her face, and the cool caress of a shadow circled her waist, pulling her from her mother.

“No!” Cerce screeched, clawing at the air as Ellea was tugged back through worlds, through time.

Ellea sucked in air and immediately choked. Rolling over, gasping, she reached for her throat and gagged on the pain as she felt the raw skin.

“Ellea!” Ros shouted, crashing to the floor to kneel next to her.

Billy was rubbing her back, and she could feel Garm pacing next to her.

“I’m here,” she croaked. It hurt to speak. “I’m here.”

Ros scooped her up, cradling her in his arms. Gently, he grasped the back of her head, baring her neck. All three of them gasped at what they saw.

“How?” Billy snarled.

Ros growled through pressed lips. “Who did this to you?” he asked harshly.

“My mother.”

“How?” Garm asked from over Ros’ shoulder. “That shouldn’t be possible.”

“I’m not sure I saw the future,” Ellea said hoarsely. “I think I was brought to the present. But it felt like a vision?”

“You were here the whole time,” Billy said. “Then you began kicking and bruises started forming around your neck. We couldn’t get to you; it felt impossible to pull you back.”