I’m useless as a heroine, she thought. I’m pathetic. They should
have given these Powers to someone who already knew how to control
such things. Or, no, they should have given them to someone and then
given the someone a course on how to use them. Or—no—
“Elena!” Rubbish was flying in front of her, but then she was ▒思▒兔▒網▒文▒檔▒共▒享▒與▒在▒線▒閱▒讀▒
cutting left and somehow getting around it. And then she was on the
ground and looking up at Damon, who had protected her with his body.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Come on!”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered and held out her right hand, with the
ring on it, for him to take.
And then she doubled up, heaving with sobs. She could hear the
flapping of Bloddeuwedd right above her.
40
Matt and Mrs. Flowers were in the bunker—the addition to the house
that Mrs. Flowers’s uncle had put onto the back for woodwork and other
hobbies. It had fallen into even more neglect than the rest of the house,
being used as a storage space for things Mrs. Flowers didn’t know where
else to put—such as Cousin Joe’s folding cot and that old sagging couch
that didn’t match a stick of furniture inside anymore.
Now, at night, it was their haven. No child or adult from Fell’s
Church had ever been invited inside. In fact, except for Mrs.