Page 1 of Beautiful Madness

Chapter One

The elders didn’t punish me forletting the serial killer— Sam Keller—go. As a matter of fact, they barelyspoke of it at all, and that was because they believed I’d made a mistake Iwould soon rectify. Apparently, they were always one step ahead of me. They bidedtheir time, waiting for what they thought was coming.

It made me nervous, and Icontinued wearing the bracelet they gave me.

Just in case.

Not even Ael, the big wolfelder, gave me shit about it when he began training me. He seemed happy kickingmy ass for any reason.

The Council’s “training room”was magnificent. It was not only vast, but magical, and every time I lookedaround I saw something new. It wasn’t a room as much as it was an ever-changingland.

Right now we were in a desertin the middle of the day, and the sun beat mercilessly down on my sweatingbody. The floor was sand, the ceiling was the sky, and as far as I could seewas more of the same. When I’d arrived this morning, though, I’d found myselfin the middle of a cool, thick forest.

“You’re afraid of yourself,”the wolf elder said, curling his lip. “I cannot work with a pup who shrinksfrom her pain.”

I picked myself up off the groundwhere he had—with an almost casual gesture—thrown me. I glared at him. “I’m notafraid of pain,” I said, through clenched teeth. “Mine or anyone else’s. I’mafraid of my…” But I shut my mouth before the words escaped.

His laugh was loud and rough,as full of contempt as his ancient stare. “Your madness? Oh, we know, littlepup. We know very well what you fear.”

Ti, the golden elder, hadwanted me to embrace my madness—my inner psycho, as I thought of it. Shebelieved the parts of me I kept separate would better serve me if I would onlycombine, accept, and love them.

I meant to. I really did. Butdeep down I was terrified I would never learn to control what was inside me. “I’mafraid she’ll get the upper hand,” I told Ael. “I’m afraid she will take meover and…” I shrugged. “That I’ll go crazy, in the end. I’m afraid I won’t bethe same person, that I won’t care anymore.”

Dammit. How could I accuratelydescribe what I meant without sounding like the cringing, shrinking pup hebelieved me to be?

“And therein lies your dilemma,”he said, crossing his arms. “There is no “she.” There is onlyyou.Youseem to believe you have multiple people living inside you. All parts ofyou—your rage, your joy, your terror, your magic, your wolf—they are you.” Hestopped and took a breath, frustration in his eyes. “You came out of the wombtwisted, Kait Silver, and your childhood has warped your thinking. These thingswere beyond your control, but you have control now, and now is what matters. Youcannot grow or move away from your past or your fears until you understandthis.”

“My past,” I said, stretchingmy tired right arm. “I’ve come to terms with my father’s death and the way ithappened. I killed the man who beat him to death.” But even as I said it, afamiliar rage rose inside me, and my throat thickened with tears.

“That is only part of yourdamage, pup, and you have come to terms withnothing. Your father isyour hero—but you did not see him. You did not know him.”

“Don’t talk about my father,” Isnarled.“Youdidn’t know him.” Maybe something softened in his stare,but I didn’t want his damn pity. I growled and sent a blast of power at him,but it was guided by rage and insecurity and only bounced off his shoulder.

Still, it was a hit, somethingI hadn’t managed to do all morning, and he immediately lifted his hand to squeezethe injured arm.

“Shit,” I said, immediatelycontrite. “I’m sorry, Elder.”

He sighed and shook his head.“Fear,” he said. “It will kill you in the end.”

I stiffened my spine. “You’retraining me to call and control my power—not smack you around with it.” We’dbeen at it for hours, and as far as I could tell, I hadn’t learned to doanything but fall well.

I’d thought he might call insome wolves to fight me, the way he’d sent them to fight me on the night I’dtaken Farrow. But no. It wasn’t going to be that easy.

“I know you can fight,” hesaid, when I’d complained. “You are here to learn your power—and yourself.”

“I expected more on your firstsession,” he told me now. He was enormous in his furs, Muscular and strongdespite his incredible age, his shaggy hair unbound and trailing down his broadback. He held his mysterious and powerful staff in his huge hand and never losthis grip on it, no matter how many times he slapped me with his power. “Returnnext week and we will try again.”

He didn’t sound as though heexpected much then, either, and that just pissed me off. I was better thanthat. I was strong. I had power, power that had exploded out of me and knockedme on my ass, but that power hadn’t been something I’d deliberately called. I’dsent it to the sky, true, but I had to admit that was because I couldn’t pullit back in. I couldn’t play with it, gentle it, mold it. It was messy anddeadly and if I wasn’t careful, I would kill someone I didn’t mean to kill.

All morning I’d been trying tofeel it, to bring it to the surface—but other than the little string of powerI’d spat at the elder, there’d been nothing.

He believed that meant I wasweak.

Maybe I did, too.

I was disgusted that myemotions fueled my power. Not just my emotions, but rage-filled, terror-driven,psychotic break sort of emotions.Heknew it, too, and that was likelywhy he was both contemptuous and throwing me on my ass, hoping for a littleanger to induce my magic.

It was pathetic andembarrassing.