She shouted again, and then again. By the third time, Hemmington finally understood what she was yelling about, but it was already too late for him to dodge.
The car was about to crash straight into him.
In that split second, Mary had no time to think. She instinctively released her spiritual power, forcing it toward the driver's consciousness and commanding him to stop.
This was the first time she had ever used this ability.
She hadn't even been sure it would work.
Yet the car screeched to a halt, stopping less than twenty centimeters away from Hemmington's bicycle.
The driver, a man in his twenties, stared ahead in a daze. He was bare-chested, bearded, and dressed sloppily, giving off the unmistakable air of someone who wasn't exactly upright.
Hemmington stood frozen, the terror of brushing past death draining all the color from his face. His legs nearly gave out beneath him.
Mary rushed forward at once, reaching out to steady the bicycle and help him regain his balance.
