The Mage’s Revenge (Crescent Moon Academy Book 2)

by CY Jones

  “Fuck her stuck up ass, baby. You’re supposed to be entertaining me,” Gazette says in this grating whiny voice that’s irritating to listen to.

  “I’m sorry, am I interrupting you?” I ask with a raised brow. Maybe he’d like me to leave him alone so their debauchery can continue uninterrupted.

  “No,” he says, grabbing Gazette by the throat, and before I can blink, he snaps her neck as easily as a twig. So used to murder, the only thought that crosses my mind is, I guess that makes me rated number seven now. The girl on her knees doesn’t even blink or scurry away when a dead body falls on the ground beside her, but I'm sure her lack of a response is due to the fact that she’s high out of her mind on fairy fruit, judging by all the cores and pits littered at her feet.

  “Did you have to kill her?” I question.

  “She insulted you, so yes. She was getting on my nerves anyways. There’s only one female here who can hold my attention.”

  “Who? The light mage high out of her mind at your feet?” I ask, playing dumb.

  Narrowing his eyes, he growls, “You know who.”

  He’s too intense right now. I’d be blind if I miss the heated path he takes up and down my body or the bulge in his jeans growing with each pass. His berry scent hits me hard, and I have to take a step back to cut whatever spell this is. “Don’t you think it’s quite irresponsible for you to provide refreshments from faery?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “How else do you expect me to keep the light and dark mages from killing one another? At least this way, they’re enjoying themselves and not committing murder.”

  “Everyone but you,” I say, looking down at Gazette’s dead body.

  “She’s irrelevant,” he says, waving his hand nonchalantly at Gazette’s lifeless body. The fairy king could care less about one dead mage.

  “When do you plan on cashing in your five minutes, or did you already use it while killing my competition? Did you think I’d change my mind if you did my dirty work for me? Silly king. I can’t be bought with blood.”

  “Oh, lovely, you have no clue what I have in store for you, but when I make my move, trust me, you’ll know,” he purrs. Goddess above, he just oozes sex appeal. “Why don’t you go enjoy the party? A little fun before tomorrow’s bloodshed won’t hurt. I’ll find you later once I’m done socializing.” His gaze moves down to the mage at his feet, and I watch as a wicked smile crosses his face. Probably feeling the heat of his gaze, she looks up at him and bats her fake eyelashes at him. I try not to scowl when she shuffles closer to his body, moving her hands higher up his thighs to his crotch. She’s making her intentions very clear. Maybe she’s not as out of it as I first thought.

  “I’ll leave you to it then,” I snarl about to turn and leave when he stops me.

  “You should try the punch. It’s not as potent as the wine, if you drink it moderately.”

  I don’t bother to thank him before stomping away. Why should I care about some random blowing him out in the open? He’s right about one thing though. I should relax. I could die tomorrow. Do I really want what could possibly be my last night pining over a faery king I’m not even certain I like? This infatuation is nothing more than my insanity playing tricks on me.

  Taking him up on his offer, I go to the table and fill a red Solo cup with punch before taking a sip. It’s sweet like the fruity human drinks served at bars and leaves a refreshing aftertaste. I can’t help downing the whole thing before refilling my cup with more.

  It’s an immediate reaction when spots of color dance before my eyes, but unlike when I see auras, I don’t have to tone down the brightness. The muscles in my body loosen, and I feel more lighthearted, but luckily, I still have my wits about me and haven’t lost all my senses. Oberon is right. The punch isn’t as potent as the wine, but I should go easy on this second cup. I rather not open up myself to a gangbang out in the woods or be like the poor sap I just left in-between Oberon’s legs.

  I dance by myself on the dance floor, pushing away all those who try to dance with me. Besides the heirs, I don’t really have any interest in any of the mages who go here. Most of them are big pussies, frightened of me, and the ones who aren’t, are douches who like to brag about how great their family line is and are always looking to seduce and use me for their own gain. I was already the cream of the crop being a Boudreaux, but ever since everyone found out I’m really a Morganstein, it has only gotten worse. Besides killing, it seems marrying well is the only thing mage parents teach their children.

  Once I’m good and sweaty, I grab another cup of punch, sipping it slowly while I people watch. Quinn is gone, his throne empty, but no one is stupid enough or that intoxicated to sit in it. I wonder what he’d do if I tried it out? Then I giggle at the thought. Shit, maybe the punch is starting to get to me if I’m starting to feel giddy.

  Gazette’s body is gone. One of Oberon’s minions must have cleared it away since I’m doubtful he did it himself. Maybe he’s gone off with that light mage somewhere else more private. Why do you care? I ask myself then scowl at the bushes at the answer on the tip of my brain. I don’t care. It’s Quinn who I’m really thinking about, not the king hiding within him. My familiarity to my brother is what’s playing havoc on my brain and making me feel things I wouldn’t normally feel. I miss him, and this is my body’s way of deluding me into thinking that he’s here, but he’s not, and if I don’t get stronger, he’ll be lost forever.

  Still feeling the side effects of the punch, I go explore and soak in the atmosphere. Who knows when I’ll have another opportunity to just relax and not have to constantly watch my back for a spell being flung at me or a weapon aimed at my person. I’m not stupid. No matter how intoxicated everyone here is, they are still a threat. I haven’t completely dropped my guard, just relaxed it a bit.

  Walking deeper into the woods, I swing myself up onto a tree branch like an acrobat. It’s long and thick enough for my feet to stay flat on the bark with enough strength to hold my weight. On the tip of my toe, I do a couple of pirouettes before leaping high in the air where the tips of my fingers just brush the underside of another branch full of leaves before ending in a tendu. My arms swing around my body gracefully, and I keep my fingers and feet pointed just like Dad taught me. He used to lecture me all the time while training me. In my reverie, I can practically hear him tell me, to move like a harlequin is to be graceful like a swan. Ballet, acrobats, martial arts, he made sure I mastered each proficiently and gracefully.

  “Angelica, can I speak with you?” a voice asks from below.

  Putting a halt to my turns, I peer down at Goliath, Quinn’s second in command and another one of his lackeys I don’t recognize. Goliath’s real name is Marcel, but I call him Goliath because it suits him better due to his massive size. Even high up on the tree branch, he could probably reach up and touch my foot without having to reach up on his toes. His arms and legs are bulging with muscles and are ridiculously strong. Quinn told me once he saw him rip another mage in half with his bare hands like they were made of paper.

  “What about?” I ask in a bored tone. I’m curious as to why he’d seek me out, but I don’t want him to know that.

  “It’s about your brother.”

  “What about him?” I ask, really curious now. Does he know? Does this big oaf have brains as well as brawn? Outwardly, it is Quinn’s body Oberon is using, but who knows how well he’s keeping up with actually acting like him. No one knows Quinn like I do.

  “That dude walking around may look like Quinn, sound like Quinn, but that’s no Quinn,” he says flat out, voicing my fear that Oberon may not be fooling everyone.

  “What are you talking about?” I chuckle, laughing it off even if inside I’m actually freaking out. Who knew the big guy was so observant?

  “Cut the shit, Angelica. Where’s the real Quinn?” he asks, crossing his beefy arms.

  To give myself time, I flip off the branch and land a perfect dismount. Turning to my audience, I cheer, �
�And she makes the landing,” with my arms straight in the air like an Olympic gymnast. The lackey beside Goliath gives me a funny look, not at all impressed. What the hell? Who shit in his Cheerios?

  “Come on, Marcel,” he says, looking at me dubiously. “She can’t tell us shit. Can’t you see she’s absolutely insane?”

  “Is he an important lackey to my brother?” I question.

  “No, not really, why?” Goliath asks.

  “Just because,” I sing before pulling a strand of hair from my head. In a move too quick for either to follow, I wrap the hair around lackey’s neck, choking him. He tries to pull at it with both hands, but all he accomplishes is cutting his fingers because now with my spell weaved in the hair, it’s as sharp as very thin wire. With a tug on my end, the hair cuts into his skin like butter until it slices all the way through his skin and bone, detaching his head from his neck. I watch impassively as his head falls to the forest floor with a loud thud and rolls into a nearby bush.

  “Who else did you confide your suspicions about Quinn to?” I ask carefully. I need to find out if anyone else knows. If there is, I will hunt them down and kill them.

  “No one, just him,” Goliath answers.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, raising a brow. If I have to, I’ll take Goliath out. No matter how loyal to my brother he seems to be, right now, maintaining the secret is more important than loyalty. “I know you heard by now that I’m a manipulator. No matter how strong you are, it would be child’s play to make you hang yourself from this tree if that’s what I wanted,” I threaten.

  “I didn’t tell anyone else, I swear. I only brought him because I didn’t think it would be smart to confront you by myself,” he answers. He doesn’t back down nor do I sense an ounce of fear in him. His aura is also stable, a good sign that he’s not lying.

  “Call me crazy, but I believe you. Tell me, Marcel, what makes you think that’s not Quinn?”

  “Well, the green eyes for one. Then there’s the fact that Quinn and I are really close. I’ve been sensing something was off with him since he showed up. The pretender is good at faking it, but Quinn is more flamboyant and theatrical.”

  “Well, aren't you clever?” I say, impressed. “You knew there was a chance I could kill you, but you still came to me. Why?”

  He sighs and the big guy actually looks sad. “Quinn is my best friend. I just want to know if he’s in trouble. If he’s been kidnapped or something, I'll gladly offer my services to help you get him back.”

  My, what loyalty. You definitely don’t see much of that on my side of the campus. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Quinn’s dead.” There I said it. I admitted to someone else out loud that Quinn is no more.

  His face falls, eyes wide with shock, making me wish I chose a better way to tell him than vomiting the truth out like that. It wasn’t personal, more for me than him really.

  “You’re lying,” he says in a broken voice.

  “I wish I was, but I’m not.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. If that was the case, then why do you have that pretender walking around? If Quinn was really dead, then there would be no reason to keep up pretenses. Who killed him?” he asks after a beat.

  Shit. I really don’t want to answer that, but I need to. I’ve already told him this much. I might as well go all the way. The wound has already been inflicted, I might as well let it bleed.

  “I did,” I answer without wavering.

  “What? But… no… that doesn’t make any sense. You love Quinn, you’d never...” he cuts off.

  “Even still, I killed him. Although, I admit he didn’t give me much of a choice.”

  Clenching his meaty fist at his sides, he looks me straight in the eyes. I’m quite certain he wants to kill me, but he needs his answers first. “You’re going to have to explain this to me for me to understand, because none of this is making sense. If Quinn is really dead, what’s with the doppelganger?”

  I could deny his request. Leave him in the dark, but I don’t. Goliath was always the one Quinn would send to look out for me. It annoyed me at first that he felt like I needed a guard, but Quinn trusted him to take care of me and Goliath always did everything he asked without question. So, in the dark forest next to a bleeding headless body, I explain everything. Once I’m done, it feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I didn’t realize until now how much this massive secret has been weighing me down. I may not know Goliath well, but Quinn does. I feel like he’d want him to know, and if, by the end of this conversation, he wants to take his revenge for Quinn, I’d give him a fair fight.

  “So, there’s hope? Quinn is not really dead?” he questions once I’m through.

  “Without his soul he is, which is why I summoned Oberon to keep his body fresh. Morganstein is strong. It’ll take everything I have to defeat him, and there’s still no guarantee that he’s still holding on to Quinn’s soul.”

  “He’ll still have it. I know his type. Bullies like my parents. He’ll want you to come after him, and he’ll use Quinn’s soul as insurance to make sure you do.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right, but right now, I’m not strong enough to take him on. Not to mention, I have a lot going on.”

  “The Mage War,” he muses, rubbing his chin.

  “Yeah that,” I sigh. “I’ve been putting it off long enough as it is. But as much as I ignore it, it’s not going away. Quinn’s death put that in perspective.”

  “Tell you what. I know a light and dark mage working together is unheard of, but when you go after your father, take me with you. Quinn would want me to help you.”

  I’m speechless. Going after Morganstein is dangerous to say the least. He’s a seasoned mage when we’re still at the academy learning. A downright despicable human being who can make us cut our own hearts out and hand it to him on a platter, yet, for my brother, he’d risk his life without a second thought.

  “You’re insane, you know that right?” I tell him.

  “Yes, I’m aware, but my offer still stands.”

  “Whatever, it’s your funeral,” I retort, smiling. That’s as close as an agreement he’ll get out of me. Dropping my smile, I stare him down, looking as menacing as I can as I peer up at his tall frame. “Now that you know my secret, I don’t need to tell you to keep what you learned to yourself. I hate to have to scalp your cock and use the skin to make clothes for my dolls. The skin is always best when the donor is alive and screaming.”

  “No need to threaten me,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Make sure you don’t, or I’ll make what I did to your comrade look like a picnic.” I walk off before I change my mind about killing him. It’s a big deal for me to trust him with such a huge secret. If the Council ever found out what I did, I’d have more than Morganstein to worry about. Well, I can’t worry about that now. The cat is out of the bag.

  Walking farther into the forest, I hear the sound of water in the background. I’m hot and sweaty. A dip in a stream sounds really nice about now, so I head in that direction when I’m stopped mid-step by an invisible force. The echoing of laughter surrounds me before Oberon steps out of the shadows.

  “And to think, you chastise me for killing pretty Gazette. I believe my kill was a whole lot less messier than yours. Beheading, lovely, don’t you think you got a little carried away?”

  “No, not really,” I answer boredly. “It was quick and efficient.”

  “And completely unnecessary since you didn’t kill the other guy. Instead, you spilled the beans. To a light mage at that. Lovely, don’t you have any self-preservation? You don’t need me to tell you what you did was foolish. I thought you were smarter than that.”

  “He won’t say anything.” As much as I hate explaining my actions to him, I really don’t need him going after Goliath and killing him.

  “That crap about being your brother’s best friend could have been complete bullshit. As a light mage, h
e doesn’t owe you any loyalty, and you did admit you killed his fellow brethren. If it were me, I’d kill you, but since he knows you’re dangerous, and there’s a slight chance he couldn’t take you in a fight, he could be playing it smart and ratting you out right now.”

  “He’s not,” I growl.

  “What makes you so sure?” he growls back, moving closer until he’s right in my face. With his green eyes blazing on me, my breath hitches and my heart skips a beat before racing and thumping against my ribcage so loud, I’m almost afraid he can hear it. It’s just like earlier at Quinn’s dorm room when he rendered me speechless while my lusty thoughts ran rampant, trying to take over my body like an invasion of the body snatchers.

  “You’re just going to have to take my word for it,” I reply, swallowing a hard lump in my throat.

  “You’re such a warrior. Always fighting, yet you do this. Lovely Angelica, you are quite the conundrum.” His hand lightly brushes the side of my face, and I fight leaning into his touch.

  “This isn’t fair,” I say softly.

  “What isn’t?” he asks just as softly.

  “You. This. Using Quinn against me. You know I miss my brother tremendously. I long to see him, feel him, and here you are, his exact clone, but you’re not him. You’re a trickster using my brother’s body to play me.”

  “Is that what you think? What if I shed Quinn’s body? Do you think you’d be less attracted to me if I were myself?”

  Before I can ask how he plans on doing that, he shimmers in front of me before shifting into another being all-together. Quinn’s long tricolor hair turns to thick chocolate locks that brush the top of his shoulders, his ears change to points, his features sharper and more delicate, his pale skin darkens to a rich caramel. His eyes stay the same color, but they brighten with an outerworld shine that screams ‘I’m not human’.

  Quinn is tall with lean muscle, but Oberon is slightly shorter and wider, packed with muscles like Goliath, his chest smooth and hairless and cut like marble. Instead of jeans, the faery king is now wearing a tight pair of leather britches, the kind you’d see a throwback Robin Hood wearing, and a pair of hunting boots made of supple brown leather. He’s fucking gorgeous, and I fail at holding my gasp in at seeing his true self. On his head is a crown made of antlers, the ivory shining bright in the moonlight. Unhindered from the illusion of my brother, his power trembles off him, and I fight taking a step back. This is the feared faery king of the Seelie Court. Seeing him now makes me wonder how his queen succeeded in killing him.