My mother screamed a horrible writhing sound; it split the silence in the room like a butcher's knife against slabs of tenderized meat.

Grousteus had his back to me, and all I desperately wanted to do was pounce atop him and stop whatever it was he was doing to my mother. He was bent over, his figure dark behind the glowing of the purple fire that ignited across my mother's chest. Her voice was becoming hoarse as her eyes stared out unblinking. I could barely see her from my vantage point but from what I did see and hear, she was in immense pain and agony.

Grousteus, on the other hand, was still calm and totally consumed with the task at hand. His dagger, now having drawn a star into her bare flesh, flickered a blinding reflection of the cool flames back onto my face.

When she fell silent any fear I had escalated. Tears started to swell in my vision, the purple fire dying down slowly now.

"She's not dead." Grousteus said, "But she will be soon." He was standing upright now, back straight and in a pompous way. There was something that said he was proud of himself, that he finally achieved his greatest dreams.

I couldn't look at her anymore. My eyes were starting to burn and my limbs were beginning to ache from not having any lubrication.

"Are you afraid?" He brought his dagger to my neck and I felt my pulse hammer against its bone-chilling coolness.

I didn't respond; I couldn't even if I tried.

"Right." His breath stuck to my face like a hungry dog and my stomach recoiled at the rancid scent. The dagger did a little dance at the base of my neck before he pulled it away and shoved my body against the kitchen counter behind me. I gasped in relief, feeling motion return to my senses and my eyes swell with tears that were finally allowed to flow across my cheeks; they burned as they rolled down my face, glimmering in the setting sun.

Grousteus didn't move away, his left hand still pressing hard against my chest. The counter at my back jamming into the sore spots I had been kicked at in the school bathroom were now screaming at me for bitter relief. In the same swift motion, Grousteus had moved his dagger back into his belt and his fingers were playing with fire.

The tips of his fingers were like little lighters igniting a ball of purple fire from nothing but the air around him. I would have called it magic, and any other week of my life I would have suspected otherwise. But after seeing ghosts, auras, being paralyzed, and seeing a crazy wizard madman in live-action: anything felt possible. Accept living to see another day.

He brought the roaring purple flame, flickering as if it were alive, closer to me. Grousteus was taking his time, that eerie confidence in himself seemed to enjoy dragging out this moment. Perhaps the grin on his face meant he had been waiting for this precise moment. Why? I do not know. But I wasn't going to let him have the satisfaction of cutting open my mother and doing the same to me.

Before the flames could reach me, I slammed my head forward and into Grousteus's. My forehead rammed into the bridge of his nose, a large crack could be heard, and he howled as he took a step away from me momentarily.

I leapt out of his reach and toward where the wine bottle lay on the tiled floors. I lunged for it, feeling the cool glass surface embrace my fingertips before I chucked it at the madman. I didn't wait to see how he was going to react and ran for the front door. But I was tripping over my feet, I had even slammed partly into the door frame, before a loud sound like thunder rolled out from behind me.

A deep coldness spread across my back. It bit deep, the purple flames Grousteus had conjured now licking at my stunted form. Stumbling, my entire back side now crackling and achy, my feet twisted up and my knees plummeting to the floor. Moving my arms was taking incredible effort with my shoulder blades both boiling and frozen. I'd never felt anything like it before in my life, this fire felt much worse than when I was a child.

My legs felt like they were on a sail boat trying to keep my body pushing forward when everything was spinning uncontrollably. The walls were rocking, the floors rumbling below me, my eyes coming in and out of focus. The adrenaline of the moment was losing its momentum.

Another growl of thunder. Ducking, my back slammed onto the floor as I roll to dodge another blow of evil purple Groueteus-fire.

Looking back, the purple fire having passed above my head and dissolving into the nearest wall, Grousteus was sliding over the island counter. His robes flapping behind him, thick and heavy with metal chains at the hems. The fire between his fingertips was gone when he approached me and I scrambled to my feet, sick to the stomach. Everything was swaying, my eyes wishing to fall into a deep sleep. But Grousteus was storming toward me. When he was close enough, I ducked under his open arms which looked to choke me again and into his robes. On his belt was the crystal dagger. My fingers unlatched the weapon and slid away with it as I dashed from his pursuing viper-grip.

"Stay back!" I tried to say, finding that both my voice and my hands were shaking more than I had expected nor wanted them to. Grousteus, though riddled with lines of fury and old scars, didn't seem to have his calm demeanor any longer. Something about him came off in a rage of dark matter and utter annoyance.

My hands were warm, a tingling sensation was crawling up my arms and caressing my elbows. Taking a deep breathe I steadied a stance like that of a horrible golfer. My feet under my shoulders facing toward Grousteus, arms locked and the dagger pointed and locked diagonally (upward) in front of me.

Grousteus sneered in response, but it seemed more a mask of bravado.

The warm sensation from the dagger seemed to be spreading, providing instant relief to my achy joints, the burning sensation on my back, the sore spots on my side, and the residue of burning from my eyes. Eventually it all faded till it was a dull nothing. I blinked and suddenly Grousteus was surrounded by an aura of crimson and violet.

"What are you going to do now Little Prickster?" Grousteus said, hands out as if he were some sort of football player ready to tackle his opponent. His eyes were squinted and deranged, something about him looked like he had more than a couple screws loose. His nose was pooling blood— crooked from when I whacked it with my head. Then his expression changed, his eyes went to a far away place. Looking conflicted, he stared at me, the front door, and something behind me.

Half-expecting to see my mother had crawled off the floor, I glance back to see that Angelo was standing there. My mother limp in his arms, head tilted back so that her pale neck was exposed. Blood matting her hair and clothes.

Angelo clenched his jaw, eyes fixated on Grousteus now. There wasn't an exchange of words, Felix couldn't say or do anything more, before Grousteus had disappeared without a sound. The only thing left was his crystal dagger, still reverberating in the palm of his hand.

"We need to get her help." Angelo said to me, the playfulness he usually had now stripped and as taught as his thin-set lips.

I nodded in agreement, coming toward him and feeling my chest rise in grief. "Is she still alive?"

Angelo hesitated for a moment. "Yes, for now. But she wont be for long if we don't get her to see the Loynics."

The word didn't mean much to me, but my thoughts were clouded by emotions. He could have said anything in that moment and I would have agreed out of exhaustion. Fire-breathing maggots are real? Ummhmmm......

And with that, I followed Angelo out my front door. Watching my mother's hair as it swayed back and forth in his long strides.