The Awakening

by H. D. Gordon

  Seeing this, along with hearing the hurting groans of my little sister, set me on fire. Anger flared up in me, hot and powerful, and though she was still in the process of sucking out my magic, I knew Mother Eve must have felt the shift, because her eyes flicked to me.

  A slow grin spread over her face.

  “Does this make you mad, little princess?” she asked, voice sweet and low. “To be so powerful, and yet so powerless? Strength is so wasted on the young.”

  The arrogant witch. Not only was she going to steal our magic, and either leave us as shells of ourselves or worse, she had to taunt while she did it.

  Inch by inch and drop by drop, with every second, I felt my magic draining.

  I had to stop her.

  I glanced at Roo as I thought this to see that she was already looking at me.

  No. We had to stop her.

  I tried to move toward my little sister, but every inch seemed a mile, every movement agony. Hot tears fell from the corners of my eyes and ran down my cheeks, which ached from gritting my teeth. Our eyes locked, and the pain in hers drowned out any I might be feeling myself.

  My right foot dragged forward a few inches, then my left, my whole body angling toward my sister and being held back as if by a great and ungodly wind. Roo did the same, fighting to be nearer to me with everything she possessed, a single particle of energy existing in two places at once.

  The gap between us closed further. But still not enough. So close, and so far away.

  Mother Eve’s grip tightened, squeezing until my vision began to blur at the edges, pulling at our beings as though might a black hole. My hold on reality threatened to slip, but I stared at my little sister—my anchor since forever—and she stared back, holding me fast with just her gaze.

  It was impossible to tell how much time passed, but then I was beside her, offering her my hand, wrapping my fingers around hers as if she was a buoy and I a drowning soul.

  My sister’s magic mingled with my own. I felt a rush of power, the deep well of it that was created when we were together, standing strong against the onslaught from Mother Eve.

  Until it started to waver.

  Mother Eve was too powerful, her draining too insistent.

  One shot. That would be all we’d get, and it would likely burn Roo and I out for a good while. Just one good blast. I wasn’t sure how I knew this, but I knew. Looking at my little sister, she knew it, too.

  It was now or never. Roo’s and my internal clocks were synced, our natural watches matching to the millisecond.

  I heard the screams and realized belatedly that they were coming from Roo and me. Releasing so much magic felt like exposing my soul, like expanding until I’d scattered every atom of myself to the farthest reaches of the universe. I had no idea where my magic ended, and where Roo’s began.

  Another cry broke through the sound of ours. I watched through blurred vision as Mother Eve was lifted off the ground and thrown backward thirty feet. The draining sensation was gone in an instant, and we could have run just then.

  Could have, but the witch had managed to take some of our magic before we’d been able to stop her.

  And I wanted it back.

  I took a step toward her, hands clenched into fists so tight that my fingernails drew blood on my palms, but if there was pain, I didn’t feel it. I watched myself as if from afar, the instinct as natural to me as breathing. Lifting my hand, I began to drain the magic she’d stolen back out of her.

  The sensation was intoxicating, like ice and fire rushing through my veins at once, reaching the tips of every extremity and flooding every cell. Mother Eve writhed unnaturally where she lay, groaning and struggling to get to her feet. Distantly, I was aware of someone tugging on my arm, but I wasn’t done yet.

  I didn’t just want what she’d taken from us.

  I wanted everything she had.

  All of it.

  I was going to drain her of every drop.

  I was struck as if by a bus.

  The air knocked out of me, pain lancing through my midsection at the point of impact. It happened so fast that my mind took a moment to catch up to my body. I landed in a heap, blinking and trying to clear the haze clouding my vision.

  Raz.

  He’d tackled me to the ground, surprising me enough that I’d lost my grip on Mother Eve. The power I’d managed to take from her, along with the return of my own magic, had a heady effect—almost like being drunk. Raz’s enormous weight was still atop me, and I shoved him off, eager to be back on my feet as long as that witch was still breathing,

  I was about to say something very mean to Erasmus when a low growling drew my attention.

  Though my previous encounters with them had been brief, I knew the sound instantly.

  Lycans, three of them, had just stepped out of a swirling portal, and there was murder in their feral eyes. Mother Eve must’ve somehow summoned them when she’d lost the upper hand over us.

  The three charged at us, and though a part of me wanted to run, I stood my ground, planting my feet and lifting my chin, still high from the amount of magic I’ve taken from Mother Eve. One of the fanged, hairy beasts met my gaze, and my teeth clenched as the magic raged within me.

  I summoned some fire magic, and launched it at the three lycans, sending two skittering back as it singed their fur. The third, however, skirted around the flames with preternatural speed, moving too fast for me to react.

  Its maw yawned wide, the dark depths of its throat almost visible beyond those massive fangs. There was only time to stare before the bite.

  Then Raz was in front of me, his wide back taking the place of the drooling mouth of the wolf-beast. It happened in a heartbeat, but I had the strange sensation of watching the event in slow motion—a moment that would torment me for many moons to come.

  One second, there was the maw of the beast, wide and terrifying. Then there was Raz, his muscular arm removing a dagger from his waistband, the metal of it gleaming as he shoved it into the lycan’s throat, causing a spray of scarlet blood at the same instant that the beast’s jaws clamped around his throat and shoulder, deadly fangs sinking in deep.

  There was a moment where time stopped entirely—in the space between when the beast’s long teeth disappeared into Raz’s flesh, Raz’s blade still deep in the creature’s chest. Both blows were either deadly or damn near.

  Raz’s hold on his blade slipped free at the same time the lycan’s jaws slackened. Still in slow motion to my shocked mind, both slumped to the ground, scarlet spurting and pooling around them.

  Then, I blinked, and time caught up.

  Roo sent a burst of magic at the other two lycans, driving them back again for a few heartbeats. Beyond them, I sensed rather than saw Mother Eve regaining herself…

  But all I could look at was Erasmus, at the gaping tears to his right shoulder and neck.

  So much blood. He’d already lost so much blood, and was still losing it.

  “He’s dying,” Roo said, and though I barely heard her words over the chaos surrounding us, I felt the weight of them in my gut.

  I tore my eyes away from Raz long enough to catch sight of Mother Eve. Her gaze locked with mine, and a slow smile pulled up those blood-red lips. My hands clenched into fists at my sides.

  Roo was beside me, gripping my arm. “He doesn’t have time,” she told me.

  I knew what she meant, knew that she was saying I had to make the choice between attempting to finish off Mother Eve while I was rife with all this power, or fleeing and grasping at the chance of saving Erasmus in time, knowing very well it might already be too late for him.

  My magic swirled through my bloodstream, urging me to decide. My little sister’s hand closed around my own.

  Instead of hurling the magic at Mother Eve, I used it to lift Raz’s body and shove him through the invisible portal we’d used to enter this cursed plane.

  I caught a final glance at Mother Eve before Roo and I followed after.

  The
grin the dark witch gave me would haunt my nightmares for many moons to come.

  24

  Exiting the cavern through the marketplace happened in a blur.

  I was aware that I was sticky with Raz’s blood, aware of the rapid pounding of my heart and my short gasps for breath as I used pure magic to heave him along. I sensed multiple sets of eyes on us, but couldn’t care less, and luckily for them, no one in the market place tried to prevent our exit.

  I was pretty sure there was enough magic running through me right now to level the place, but I was concentrating on moving Raz while keeping invisible pressure on his wounds to staunch the bleeding.

  Then we were passing through the tunnel and emerging into the cool night, the smell of the forest taking the place of damp rock. A roaring caw sounded across the dark sky. Then Zar crashed through the trees, clearly agitated at the sight of his prone rider hovering bloody in the air.

  Sweat rolled down my back as I maneuvered Erasmus onto his griffon’s back, Roo and I following suit.

  Then we were airborne.

  The wind whipped at my hair, drying the sticky blood on my clothes and skin, the only sound save for the beating of Zar’s wings and the racing of my heart.

  Roo didn’t say a word the entire flight, and I was too afraid to ask her the answer to the question hanging in the air between us. Instead, I reached around to Raz’s neck and felt for a pulse.

  It was faint. So very, very faint.

  My breath hitched in my throat, and I forced myself to speak the words, glancing over my shoulder at my sister, who sat close behind me on Zar’s muscled back.

  “Will he live?” I asked.

  Roo’s lips pressed together into a tight line, but she did not speak, her silence an answer in itself.

  Zar flew us deeper into the forest, going the opposite direction of the Academy.

  We landed in a small clearing in the sea of towering evergreens, where a tidy little log cabin sporting glowing windows and a curl of smoke rising from the chimney rested within the trees. At first, I thought the griffon must be mad, but then the front door to the cabin swung open, and a child with long silver hair and green eyes came running out.

  I was so entranced by her beauty that it took me a moment to realize she was not human. The tips of her ears were pointed, and her front two incisors were long and sharp like fangs. There was a slight shimmer to her olive skin, and a deepness behind her emerald eyes that belied her appearance.

  “What happened?” she asked, approaching Raz and examining his wounds.

  “Lycan,” Roo answered, because I couldn’t seem to find my voice.

  “Bring him inside,” said the child.

  I was too shocked over it all to do anything but obey. A few breathless moments later, we were in the cabin, Raz laid out on a kitchen table long enough to take up a good portion of the room.

  The child set to work while Roo and I stood and gaped.

  I swallowed, the irony taste of blood lingering on my tongue. “Will he live?” I asked for the second time that night.

  The child shrugged, one delicate shoulder lifting and falling. She glanced away from Erasmus only long enough to meet my eyes.

  “Probably not,” she answered, and continued whatever the hell she was doing to Raz.

  I watched helplessly as green light appeared around her small fingers, flowing from her and into Erasmus. Her brow furrowed with concentration, sweat beading there.

  And, still, Raz did not move.

  Beside me, Roo stilled. My gaze went to her even though I didn’t want to look. More than anything, I didn’t want to look.

  Because she was not looking at me. Nor was she looking at the strange inhuman child, nor the patient lying prone atop the table.

  She was looking beyond us. At something only she could see.

  No, not something.

  Someone.

  A single tear rolled down my cheek, but I swiped it away before it could reach my chin.

  I stared at Raz’s still body. A rage so red and hot flowed through me that any subsequent tears I might’ve cried evaporated long before they could reach my eyes.

  I should’ve killed the dark witch while I’d had the chance.

  The End…For Now

  Look out for book 2 in

  The Academy of Witchcraft:

  The Summoning

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  Also by H. D. Gordon

  The Blood Pack Trilogy

  Moon of Fire

  Moon of Shadows

  Moon of Curses

  The Alexa Montgomery Series

  Blood Warrior

  Half Black Soul

  The Rise

  Redemption

  The Aria Fae Series

  The Halfling

  The Masked Maiden

  The Blue Beast

  The Haunted Hero

  The Wolf Wars Series

  Moon Burned

  Moon Broken

  Moon Born

  Moon Battle

  Heiress of Magic Trilogy

  Born of Magic

  Thief of Magic

  Throne of Magic

  You know what would be hella cool? Leaving a review. Reviews help sell books, which leads to the author writing more of those books, which leads to the author not losing her dang mind. ;)

  So, come on, help a homegirl out, and review, pleeeeease.

  Looking for something to read while you wait for book 2 in the Academy of Witchcraft Series?

  Read on for a sneak peek at Blood Warrior: The Alexa Montgomery Series, Book 1. A completed series!

  Story Summary

  When her home is attacked by murderous vampires, Alexa Montgomery is forced to leave her mother for dead in order to save her sister.

  She soon learns that she is the last known member of an elite race of supernatural warriors, and is thrust into a world full of vampires and werewolves who all seem to regard her as some sort of savior.

  Meanwhile, Alexa battles a monster within herself that seeks to gain control—a monster that seeks blood.

  The hidden city she finds herself in appears perfect, but Alexa's instincts tell her that all is not right within its walls. When she is asked to attend a school of fighters, whose exams consist of gladiator-style competitions, she must decide who she can trust among the smiling faces.

  And, when she meets Kayden, a vampire she feels undeniably drawn to, she must decide if she can trust herself.

  Blood Warrior is the first book in The Alexa Montgomery Series.

  Copyright 2011 © H. D. Gordon

  Publisher: H. D. Gordon Books

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  As will always be, this is for my daughters, Soraya and Akira. There are no words great enough to define you. They simply do not exist.

  Chapter 1

  It wasn’t dead when I found it.

  I’m not even sure what drew me to the window in the first place. But I went. I suppose I should have, even could have walked away at that point… let nature take its course. But I didn’t.

  Its neck was broken. Its wings outstretched and feathers splayed in a way more peacock than blackbird. I pushed open the window, having almost forgotten its deceitful boundary, though the glass was stained where the two had collided.

 
And then I tilted, just bent my upper body so I was leaning over it. It was in pain. No, I couldn’t be sure of this, and yet, I was. I think the eyes captured me, held me there until the option of walking away had faded, leaving me with no choice at all.

  I backpedaled, reached out a calloused and cracked hand, and grabbed Capote off my desk. Returning to the window, I raised the hardcover.

  My hesitation was brief, but present. The bird lay wounded beyond repair. And, somehow, I thought I knew what it wanted, what I would want were I the broken blackbird.

  Or maybe I justified certain wants with inferred ones. Either way, it was the right thing. I took no pleasure in watching something suffer. Nor would I let it.

  The book fell at exactly the same moment the door opened.

  Chapter 2

  My mother entered the room, and I reluctantly turned to face her. I had been in a good mood. I didn’t particularly want to change that. But there she stood, and that meant she had a reason. She never visited for a simple chat.

  Her eyes flicked briefly to the window. If I hadn’t been watching, I would’ve missed it. She didn’t comment. She didn’t ask about the lone black feather sticking out from under Capote. She just gestured to the bed, and I took a seat.

  She carried the makeup in her hand, and I refused to wince as she applied it none too gently to my eye.

  “There,” she said, leaning back to examine her work.