“And the instant you try to use the book, my family will come and tear through you to get to it. You’re not able to access the spells, not without them shredding you from the inside out.” Annora refused to give up the book without a fight. They could pry it from her cold, dead hands.
“Prove it.” Suesette pushed up her glasses, her chin lifting with challenge. “Prove you’re the rightful heir, and we won’t object.”
Smugness oozed from her.
The witches believed she was lying—that she would fail.
Greenwood gave her a warning look, while Edgar subtly shook his head. Even the ferret peeked its head out of the bag, patting her shoulder to remind her she couldn’t cross over into the afterworld.
Annora stifled her frustrated growl and tried one more time to reason with them. “Using the spells would be inviting death. Every time you wield the book, it steals more of your life. It’s addictive and twists you into something inhuman.”
“Prove. It,” Suesette said again, and crossed her arms, her tone imperial. A splash of magic saturated the air, trying to force Annora to obey. “Or hand over the book.”
There was no choice.
Xander wedged himself between her and the witches, his broad shoulders blocking the rest of the room, ending the standoff. His teal eyes were stormy when he locked them on her. “You don’t have to do this. They can’t force you to do anything.”
Despite his gruffness, she wasn’t reassured.
“Actually, we can.” The younger witch lifted her chin in the air. “We can bring you to the council and put it to a vote to have you suspended from the university until you comply.”
When the guys didn’t protest, Annora knew the witch spoke the truth.
The darkness inside her stilled like a predator ready to pounce, just waiting for her signal.
They wanted to take her men from her, take away everything that mattered to her, and her rage slipped the mental leash she’d been using to try and hold it back. “You want proof? Just remember you asked for it.”
Edgar reached out just as she released her hold on the darkness crouched at her core. It exploded out of her and slammed into him with enough force that he grunted under the impact. His eyes flashed pure black as he tried to absorb everything, but it was too much.
Dark particles escaped his control and swirled around the room like dust. It absorbed all light, leaving a dim blue hue behind, the air murky like they were submerged in water.
The temperature dropped drastically, but the cold never touched her, the darkness cocooning her in warmth and comfort. Everything was calmer, and the aches from the morning workout vanished. Bruises shrank, the flames licking at her eyeballs turned cool, the headache threatening evaporated.
While the afterworld usually soothed her, this time, instead of blunting her rage, it fed it.
Her ragged nerves grew claws.
She felt better, stronger in this world…more powerful.
Strong enough to eliminate any threat to her or her men.
The walls began to crumble, the ceiling sagged dangerously, plaster and mice-infested insulation raining down. Black mold swept across the floor, and the witches retreated hastily. The desk tipped and crashed to the floor, tossing the director’s papers into the air. As soon as they hit the ground, the sheets disintegrated and scattered like ash. The chairs melted down into a pile of sludge.
Black butterflies uncurled around them, their wings flapping slowly as they scented their prey.
“You want the book?” Annora glared at them, her smile turning vicious. “Fine. All you have to do is walk out the door of this office and survive.”
Chapter Five
The witches automatically glanced at the door, Hopper and Suesette taking a step back when it resembled a doorway straight to hell. The wood was rotted, black mold nearly an inch thick caked the surface, while maggots appeared to be swimming under the surface, a few of them worming out to plop on the floor. They wiggled madly, inching their way toward Hopper.
She turned an alarming shade of green, swallowed hard, but stood her ground.
No one made a move toward the door.
Annora let her anger burn out. She shrugged off Edgar’s hold and marched toward the door, the floor bowing and creaking under her feet. Ignoring the way the metal knob felt spongy under her grip, she flung open the door. The hallway outside the room looked mundane, almost surreal, compared to the sinister world surrounding them.
A few motes of black dust landed in the hallway, and the rot spread like water across the floor, black mold sprouting up and eating away at the normal world.
“Stop,” Hetty snapped, her frown thunderous. “You’ve made your point.”
While there was anger in her eyes, it didn’t hide the greed. Whatever power Annora had over the darkness, they wanted to control it and wouldn’t let anyone stop them.
Annora had made a stupid mistake and allowed her anger to control her.
Not only did the witches want the book, they now knew she could use it.
If they couldn’t get the book, they would settle for her. Or worse…if they got the book, Annora worried something in it would allow them to control her. She refused to have her life dictated by anyone else ever again, and the need to eradicate the threat burrowed into her mind like a compulsion.
Ribbons of smoke slithered across the floor, the darkness determined to do anything to keep her safe…starting with killing everyone in the room who knew the truth.
“Annora.” Rufus didn’t hesitate to step out from behind his desk. The ribbons of smoke plumed in the air under his footsteps, retreating from him as he stopped in front of her. “I won’t let them touch you. But if you kill them, I’m not sure I’ll be able to protect you.”
She wasn’t sure if her power recognized itself on him when she used her gift to save his life, or if it didn’t sense a threat from him. Maybe it realized that she needed him to survive.
“If you attack them, you’re just giving them an excuse to hunt you down.” Without an ounce of fear, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gave a comforting squeeze. “If you run, your men will follow. You don’t want them to get caught in the crossfire.”
The small particles floating in the air like an invisible current stilled, coming to attention at the threat. Then, like the fog rolling in, the particles kicked up off the different surfaces, peeling back from the real world to wrap around her and seep into her skin. Rufus retreated, watching her and the witches both, as if he wasn’t sure which was the biggest threat.
She couldn’t blame him for his suspicions—hell, she wasn’t even sure she trusted herself—but it still stung.
The darkness caressed her skin, a promise to protect her, before her body absorbed every last speck of the afterworld.
Lights flared in the room, the brightness burning her eyes. When everything came back into focus, the room looked dingier, as if being touched by the afterworld had tainted it somehow. The desk remained crooked, the floors covered with grime, the door warped, the chairs lopsided, having aged a hundred years in seconds.
It was the first time since she’d called on the afterworld that the outer world remained affected after the power vanished.
Like it was getting stronger.
Feeding from the human world.
Hetty recovered first, tugging at the hem of her shirt and clearing her throat, speaking toward Annora as if the rest of the room didn’t exist. “You were right. We only teach the four devotions because the rest have been lost to us over the centuries. Magic becomes stronger or weaker depending on the individual students. Two witches who master control over air are almost guaranteed to breed a strong air witch. They may have minor talents in the other devotions, but it’s rare.”
“So you run a breeding program to make stronger witches.” The knowledge made Annora’s skin crawl. To be forced to breed against one’s will reminded her too much of her uncle forcing her to perform on cue for the highest bidder.
/> Suesette clicked her tongue in annoyance and rolled her eyes. “No different than a wolf breeding a wolf. Like-minded devotions gravitate toward each other. The first child of any witch is always the strongest. We ask that each female give us one child in her chosen devotion to be raised by the coven. After that, they are free to choose whomever they want as a mate.”
Even though no one else appeared the least bit surprised, Annora couldn’t keep the repugnance off her face.
“Oh, don’t look so shocked. Ask your friends what will become of them when they leave this school. If they don’t find their pack grá, they must abide by the rulings of their alpha. They would have their future mates chosen for them, perhaps even be shipped off to another pack, separating them from their family and friends.” Suesette’s face twisted in disgust, like she’d smelled something bad. “At least we aren’t so barbaric.”
Almost afraid of what she would see, Annora glanced at the guys.
And was floored when they all nodded. Camden’s vivid green eyes didn’t waver as he met her gaze. “The rarer the species, the stricter the laws. It’s to ensure the races don’t die out. Too many have gone extinct. While some have mandatory mating, most only require you produce the allotted number of children before being allowed to seek your pack grá.”
His skin rippled, a pattern swirling across it for a second, before he gained control and his skin smoothed out. The scruff along his jaw made him look dangerous and wild as he ran his fingers through his black hair, the strands shimmering a deep iridescent blue and silver as he sighed.
When he reached for her, she flinched away from his touch. The exotic smell of flowers she associated with him swamped her as his agitation increased.
Camden curled his fingers into fists but didn’t back down. “Most packs don’t follow the archaic rules.”
“But yours do.” She looked at each of the guys, a sick feeling invading her stomach when none of them denied it. “And when your alpha demands you do your duty? What then?”
She felt betrayed, her one tie to this world snatched away in a moment, her whole existence shifting.
“You are our pack grá.” Xander grabbed the back of her neck, his grip just short of brutal, and she used the pain of it to ground herself. She peered up into his teal eyes, heart in her throat, silently demanding that he not leave her. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough to let them go to another woman and not lose her shit and destroy everyone who dared touch them.
“We are yours and only ever yours,” he growled. “Nothing anyone else can say or do would ever change that.”
He drew her closer until she was pressed against his chest, his sea breeze scent wrapping around her. The white tips of his hair bristled, and she’d swear she could hear his gryphon’s wings rustle around her protectively, staking his claim as well.
Mason’s upper and lower fangs peeked out of his mouth as he hesitantly rested a hand on her back. “You are our alpha now. Only you have the ability to command us.”
Annora tore herself away from the men, hating to have her weakness exposed. The witches wouldn’t hesitate to use them against her if the speculative look in their eyes was any indication.
Instead of commenting, Hetty pretended like nothing happened. “Each coven trains one or two main devotions. Selection is much like the university. The stronger your devotions, the more other covens seek you out.”
Which Annora took to mean if you had no power, you were nothing more than a pawn or a slave. If a witch failed to give birth to a powerful witch, they were the black sheep of the family and shuffled out of the spotlight.
As if reading her outrage, Mason leaned closer, until his fresh pine and earthy copper scent soothed her ravaged emotions.
He brushed his fingertips lightly down her back…and projected his thoughts directly into her head using the mating connection. Don’t waste your pity. The weaker the witch usually means the more vicious and bloodthirsty they are clawing their way to the top in hopes of proving their worth.
He said no more as the witch spoke.
“Each coven actively collects grimoires to store their unique spells.” Hetty studied her closely, as if she could discern her ancestry with just a look. “The older the book, the more magic has been absorbed into it over the centuries. Ancient books have one keeper per generation, almost always a female. The grimoire only appears when that witch is born. While some might be able to open and even read the spells, only the chosen’s blood is able to grant the spells their full power.”
Annora blinked at the witch, not sure she understood. “Explain.”
Suesette huffed in annoyance, but Hetty answered her question patiently. “A human would see the book and would likely not even be able to open it or read the spells. A shifter might be able to feel the magic in the book, read the spell, but it’s doubtful they would feel anything but a snap of static. While I could read the same spell and make a light drizzle, if you read the spell, you could create a monsoon that lasted for weeks.”
“Magic is stored in the blood,” Suesette muttered, clearly annoyed to be explaining something so basic to an outsider. “Stronger ancestry usually equals stronger magic.”
Hetty cast a reproving look at her sister, then glanced back at Annora. “Witches have certain markers in their blood that indicate what devotion will be the strongest for them. Most of the time it’s accurate.”
“But other times the person might hold the right markers, but they’re duds,” Suesette snarked, clearly believing Annora belonged in the last column.
Hetty’s lips tightened, the only evidence of annoyance she permitted herself. “The marker for the dark matter devotion has been missing for decades. The elders tried to breed more witches with the talent when they tested for powers, but—”
“Let me guess, they disappear?” Annora tangled her fingers together to keep from reaching for the door and marching out.
Hetty’s blue eyes sharpened, and magic rose in the air. “Explain.”
The compulsion to do just that surged through her, and Annora snorted, crossing her arms. “Try your magic on me again and I’ll take it as an invitation to retaliate in kind. Then we can see who’ll still be standing in the end.” Annora cocked her head and stared at them. “That’s really what you want to know, isn’t it? Who’s stronger?”
Hetty bowed her head. “My apologies. No insult was intended. We use magic like your shifters use their extra senses. It’s instinctive and automatic.”
Annora didn’t believe it for a second. What she would believe was that the sisters were so used to using magic to get their way it was second nature to both of them. Instead of ignoring the demand, she gave them the truth, hoping they would understand the foolishness of trying to resurrect this dark matter devotion nonsense.
Edgar glared at her, silently willing her to keep silent. And he was right. The more people who knew the truth about phantoms, the more dangerous it would be for them…and her.
But screw them!
If her father was coming for her anyway, it might be best to have an army on her side when the time came.
“While a few witches might have access to this dark matter, you’re not the only people. My guess is you can only access a fraction of it…like a single raindrop compared to the ocean. Actual dark matter is a completely different realm of existence, one the residents don’t like sharing. If they notice someone accessing it, they will investigate and remove any and every threat to their existence.”
“Who?” Hetty leaned forward, and even Suesette seemed to be holding her breath.
Before she could answer, Edgar latched onto her wrist. The gathering darkness whirling inside her exploded outward like a small tornado, her form dissolving into smoke. Even as she wrenched away from him, it was already too late.
He’d ghosted them.
* * *
Feeling Annora pull away from him, panic seized Edgar, triggered by terror that he would lose her in the banished lands. He hastily dropped them in
to the empty stairwell and frantically ran his hands over her, searching for any injuries. When she tried to push him away, something inside him snapped, and he cupped her face, forcing her to look at him.
“Don’t ever do that! You can never tell anyone.” He shook her for good measure, his heart thudding so hard his ribs hurt. Blood whooshed in his ears. Fear rotted away his calm like a corrosive acid. He’d never felt it so strongly and didn’t know how to stop the way his hands trembled. Her nearness helped, and he pressed his forehead to hers. “The consequences—they hunt down any rumors about them. When they find you, they will send you to the banished lands.”
Her brown eyes were black pools when she peered up at him, her face softening, and he knew she didn’t understand. She slipped in and out of the shadows too easily and didn’t understand what it felt like to be trapped and hunted in the darkness. And he was determined to make sure she never did.
“Tell them?” She pursed her lips and blinked up at him. “Thanks to my demonstration and you whisking us away, I don’t have to say a word.”
He closed his eyes, cursing himself for an idiot, and prayed for patience. “Annora—”
“They’re going to come for me either way, and you know it.” A grimace made her nose scrunch adorably, and she pulled away, leaving his arms to feel empty without her. Her stubborn little chin rose in the air, and she planted her hands on her hips. “Would it be so wrong to have an army behind me?”
His teeth snapped shut with an audible click when he saw the cagey look in her eyes. His anger deflated, allowing him to breathe freely for the first time since taking human form. “You planned it.”
He thought over the many ways her plan could backfire, the ways she could get hurt, and couldn’t help but smile down at her. It went against all their laws, all their beliefs, but he had long ago given up on obeying the rules from his past. If it took a war for her to live fully and safely, he would lead the charge.
Annora shrugged, a small smile playing around her lips. “You said we can’t win against them alone. The only way to change that is if we do something about it.” She glared up at him, as if wanting to thump him on the back of his head. “But you should never have used your powers. I was trying to keep you safe for once. They didn’t know about you. If the witches or phantoms come for you—”
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