She did not glance at her missing fingernails, or the welts, or even feel how numb and stiff her hands were, not as the fence’s power crackled through her. Through her, into her, becoming her. Becoming hers to use as she wished. A thought, and the fence’s power turned outward again, her fingertips sparking where they curled against the metal. The metal turned orange, then red beneath her hand. She sliced her palm down, skin so blisteringly hot it cleaved metal and wire.
