by Ana Calin
“Maybe it was an anomaly due to random circumstances that caused—”
“Opening a portal to hell can’t happen at random.”
“She didn’t have any connection to the Arcane until last night. She doesn’t even know the basics of witchcraft, she didn’t even believe in it until now.”
The Lord Protector falls back against his chair, his hair glimmering like a fox’s fur in the low light. I’m not sure whether he’s considering my request or my sanity at this point.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll examine this girl and, if I don’t sense satanic danger in her, I’ll consider wiping her memory and returning her to the mortal world. But you know as well as I do that memory is a treacherous thing. You will have to keep watch on her until the last day of her life, when it will be my job to take her soul into the higher realms. Or the lower ones.”
Being close to her for the rest of her life, basically stalking her from the shadows, watch as another man will eventually take her virginity, how she’ll have another man’s babies?
“What do you say, Silas?” the Lord Protector presses when I take too long to reply.
“You can count on me, Lord Protector.”
Lucy
I NEVER THOUGHT I’D lay eyes on a creature as beautiful as Silas again, but now that I see the Lord Protector I’m stunned. I smooth my hand over my hair, wondering if I should have let my red locks tumble free down my back instead of restraining them in a high ponytail. The Lord Protector is waiting at the other end of the richly laid table, standing, while the unfriendly butler holds the chair on my end for me to sit.
“Please, Miss Reid,” the Lord Protector invites, his voice deep, and so sexy my lower belly quivers. He stands there in his sleek dark suit like a prince. The Lord of Death.
He moves with elegance as he takes a seat. I can’t take my eyes off of him, thinking how much he resembles a deadly weapon disguised as a handsome aristocrat. The crossed swords hanging above the mantelpiece behind his chair reinforce that feeling.
“Hors d’oeuvres go well with red wine,” the butler says through his teeth while he pours wine in my glass without asking for my opinion. Surely he imagines I’m too simple to know these things, and quite frankly, I am.
“I thought some fancy food would do you good after everything you’ve been through,” the Lord Protector says from the other side of the table. I’m surprised I can hear him so well despite the distance. “The wine is vintage, too.”
My stomach grumbles, even though my throat is too tight for me to swallow down any food. But the wine does tempt me. Being face to face with this man that exudes pure power makes my blood bubble up.
The first sip travels quickly to my empty stomach, and by the time I set the glass back down I’m already light-headed. Almost twenty-four hours have passed since I first discovered that other dimensions existed, and that demons were real. And that creatures as beautiful as Silas and the Lord Protector existed, too.
“Lord Protector,” I start, my tongue now disentangled. “I, ahem. Silas told me what, err, who you are, sort of. But, if I may ask—besides seeing souls out of the mortal realm, what exactly do you protect?”
His gaze deepens, like the gaze of a predator stalking its prey. I squirm under the table, adrenaline rising.
“It’s clear to you by now that the world you considered ‘real’ is but a flimsy layer over other worlds, other dimensions. Dimensions far more complex than the mortal realm.”
“Oh, it’s definitely clear to me that I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole.”
“The mortal world is not a place for supernaturals, as other realms are no place for mortals. It’s my job to make sure that everybody stays where they belong. But then there are those special situations in which humans do something supernatural, like you did last night. In such situations I must intervene and extract the mortal from what you call ‘the real world’. Guardian Angels like Silas take form on the spot when a portal is opened, and fights back the creatures trying to claw their way into the mortal realm, closing the portal—at least temporarily.”
We lock eyes, and I swear it’s the most gut-twisting experience, as strong as meeting Silas.
“Your case is very special. You’re no witch, and yet you managed to rip the membrane between the mortal realm and Hell, creating a portal, something even the most powerful wielders of black magic have a hard time doing. How do you think you were able to do that?”
“I was hoping you would have some answers for me.”
“Mortals have a powerful tool to get answers, and that is their gut feeling. Do you have a hunch what it might have been?”
“Last night was emotionally challenging to say the least,” I mutter. “Maybe that’s what triggered, I don’t know, some kind of power, maybe? A bully was trying to rape me when the membrane started to fray. But something had happened before that. I’d had a vision of him, of the guy who tried to—Blade was his name.” A knot forms in my throat as I remember it all. “I saw him hanging from a tree, the landscape burning behind him.”
“Did it feel like a vision of the future? I mean, did you feel like it was his future you were seeing?”
“I think so, but then the demon arms basically tore him apart, and that’s how he died. So my vision wasn’t correct.” My words fade. I look down at my now empty glass of wine. I’ve had little to eat, and I’m already growing dizzy from the drink. “If I am supposed to be a fortune teller, I’m afraid I’m not a very good one.”
“Well, you are something.” The Lord Protector stands to his full height, walking to me. I can’t take my eyes off of him as he prowls over, taking in his face. Seeing this man up close puts butterflies in my stomach. He is power turned flesh, power embodied as a beautiful man with hazel eyes that give me the chills. The eyes of death.
“We need to find out exactly what you are.” He leans back on the table in front of me, looking down at my face. My pulse races as I stare into the deadly depths of those hazel irises.
He bends just a little, and takes my hand. I force myself not to swallow audibly. I can’t let him see how the touch of his skin sends prickles through me, right down to my core. I’m a virgin, but I can imagine giving in to dirty fantasies with this powerful man. I imagine him scooping me up and bending me over the table, lifting the folds of my dress, ripping my panties, and then pushing his fingers into my—No, don’t go there, he’ll know.
“I hope this isn’t awfully uncomfortable to you, but in order to dive into the essence of your being and identify your power, I need to touch you. Tell me to stop if it becomes too much.”
His bright hazel eyes have a jaw-dropping effect from under his black eyebrows. His fingers graze my forearm, his fingertips raising goose bumps in their wake. can’t help but chuckle.
“I’m sorry, but you’re tickling me.” It’s a lie to save face, but it makes him smile.
“Don’t worry. Just imagine I’m your doctor.”
I squirm, and his eyes pan back up to my face, though he seems focused on whatever it is he’s doing.
His hands move to my shoulders, then glide to the back of my head. He focuses harder, his eyes appear empty, like he’s not even fully here anymore.
Bearing his closeness is more difficult by the second. His scent envelops me and goes to my head, making me blush so hard it’s exhausting. If Silas smelled green, fresh, the Lord Protector smells of pure power. It’s spice and citrus. I totally see how women would lose their minds for this man. I force myself to remember—he is not a man, he is Death turned flesh. And Death is now really close to me, breathing in my scent, his nose close to the crown of my head.
“Hmmm, interesting,” he says. I squeeze my eyes shut to fight off the sensation his voice gives me. He could enslave me with that voice, anesthetize me to take my life.
“You are a supernatural, and yet you’re fully human. I can sense a trace of witch DNA, but it’s so faint it might as well not be there. It could be just an inclination to fortune t
elling, many humans have it. Usually the gypsies, but it happens in other races, too.”
“But I didn’t tell Blade’s fate,” I protest. “He died differently, not the way I saw.”
He steps back, but the intensity is still there, in the way he looks down at me. We regard each other for a few moments before he speaks again.
“One way or the other, there is a faint trace of witch DNA in you. It’s not a big deal, actually. It’s not unheard of to find ‘new talent’ in the mortal world. And even though only a small fraction of the world population ever turns out to have supernatural aptitudes, imagine that’s a small fraction of the world population of all time.”
“But that would mean...”
“Hundreds of millions of supernaturals.” He smiles, aware this is blowing my mind.
He helps me up from my chair and wraps my hand around his arm, keeping his palm over it. He leads me out of the majestic room into the hallway, down the gallery.
“Now, before throwing the new supernaturals into other dimensions where they belong,” he explains, “we have to train them. Just think of your situation now. If I just assessed your aptitudes like the sorting hat in Harry Potter, and then kicked you through some portal into a new dimension, how long do you think you would survive there? Just think of the demons you have on your trail. The fact that you know things wouldn’t be of any help if you don’t know how to use that knowledge.”
“So you prepare the supernaturals to take care of themselves?”
“Basically.” He pushes a set of doors open, and a whole universe opens up in front of me.
“Oh. My. God.” I swear this looks just like the library from Beauty and the Beast. Grand, with a vaulted ceiling and endless shelves, beautiful ladders making even the highest corners accessible without crowding the decorum.
“I must have died and gone to book heaven.” I spin around, my feet in pumps tripping on the luscious floor, but the Lord Protector catches me. I can feel his power run through my body, and it makes my finest hairs stand on end. Sure as hell—in his human form, Death is irresistible. Probably his way of luring the more reluctant personalities?
“A heaven full of vital information.” The Lord Protector heads elegantly to one of the bookcases that houses scrolls and what looks like ancient books with covers that seem made of tree bark. “You lived in the age of information in the mortal world, and yet very little of that information was ever worth anything.” He opens a book that seems to have suffered the effects of a flood at some point in its long life. “This library, on the other hand, contains things that matter. One day, Lucia, you will grasp the universe of magic out there, the intricate design of the universe. But it will take study and practice that you can only learn at the Academy. The Major Arcana Academy that molds and grows new talent like yours.”
“An Academy?”
“An Academy of supernaturals, on the very Flipside or the University of Silverdale.”
“You mean—”
“You will see it with your own eyes soon enough. But you would need to be prepared for the Academy. You have no foreknowledge of magic, no experience, and that is indeed unusual. The small percentage of humans who ever showed supernatural powers usually come from families with a tradition of working with the lesser versions of black magic at least, like voodoo. The other students are born supernaturals with centuries of knowledge and experience running through their DNA. You need to be prepared when you enroll.”
He hands me the book, but I’m afraid to touch the fragile pages. They’re smudged and precariously bound to the spine.
“This is the first book of the Academy. Written in ink made of the sap of plants, tens of thousands of years ago. The knowledge that supernaturals needed to wield was already too vast and complex to be transmitted orally, therefore the supernaturals of old found a way to convey it—in secret—to the coming generations.”
“Wicked.” I touch the symbols with my fingertips. Intricate patterns, like those of snowflakes seen under a microscope.
He pulls out another book, a much newer one, but I still place it somewhere in the Middle Ages. He takes a seat on the reading nook by the high window, taking up space like a boss. “The Academy is old, older than you can imagine. Just think about all the wealth of knowledge it has gathered, all the knowledge you’ll have unrestricted access to.”
I plop on the nook opposite from him, completely mesmerized. “How old are you?”
He smiles, and in it I glimpse ancient wisdom. “As old as time. But we digress. We were talking about the Academy—and the place you should assume in it.”
“It feels like I’ve woken up in some dream world. Only that it feels too real for a dream.”
“It takes some getting used to, but you will grow into it. And you’ll have a mentor to help you. Someone who teaches at the Academy, and who will guide your steps. You’ll meet him soon, but you should probably know a thing or two about him by then.” He looks down at the medieval book still in my hands. “He’s descendant from a long line of warlocks. The descendant of Merlin.”
I burst into laughter—this just can’t be true. But the Lord Protector simply waits it out, giving me the time and space to deal with my nerves.
“So tell me if I’m getting this straight—you and your, I don’t know, minions, have been watching over the world since forever, and when a human showed supernatural abilities, you enrolled them into the Academy, instructed them in all things magic, then set them loose into other dimensions. The first man I met that works for you is a freaking demigod of war, and the next one I’m going to meet is the descendant of Merlin. Are all your people of such illustrious bloodlines?”
“Yes,” he replies calmly. “You’ll meet powerful creatures, Lucia, and you’ll have a lot to learn from each and every one of them. But be prepared.” His gaze darkens. “The Academy is a dangerous place. Supernaturals are aggressive, and a bully. You’ll have protection in the beginning, but not forever. You’ll have to learn how to take care of yourself.”
He stares hard into my eyes as if to brand that lesson into my brain.
“Here’s what I suggest,” he concludes, pushing himself off the cushioned nook. “Read that book on Maverick’s bloodline, since he’s going to be your first trainer. He’s rather dark and brooding, and he rarely gets a pupil outside of the Academy, usually against his will. But when he does, he expects people to have done at least a little bit of research on him. He considers it a matter of respect. Reading that book might get you in his good graces, while also teaching you a few basics on the world of magic,” he says while walking to the door, where he turns to look at me one more time out of those bright hazel eyes, the eyes of a killer. “Gordon will be around if you need anything.”
The Lord Protector
I CLOSE THE LIBRARY doors behind me, but I still feel a strange tug on my heart, as if the girl’s gaze is still clinging to me.
“Tell Silas to come see me,” I order a servant as I pass him by on my way to the study.
“At once, Lord Protector.”
There’s something about this girl that I enjoy in a way that’s completely new to me. Or a way that’s long forgotten. When you’ve been around since the beginning of time, few things still move you, about people at least, and when they do it’s a highlight.
Once in the study I pour myself a drink. I rarely take alcohol, except to make people a little more comfortable around me; they seem less afraid if I have a drink in my hand. But right now I’m drinking for myself. I need it to put down the emotions this girl sparked in me, if I am to understand them. I like to think I’m mature enough to not be afraid of my feelings, on the rare occasions that I have them, so I stand at the window and explore them mindfully with the drink in my hand.
Lucia Reid is pretty, that’s true, but so are millions of other women. Given, she’s a special kind of pretty with her natural red hair and the glint of mystery in her blue eyes, not to mention that little mole above her upper lip that makes her
sinfully sexy. I shouldn’t think this about a nineteen-year-old girl just out of her sophomore year; she’s a child, or that’s what she should be to me. But I can’t help it. I imagine having her restrained with her hands above her head, and filling her virgin pussy with my experienced cock.
No, I can’t indulge in the fantasy. I down my drink, forcing my mind elsewhere.
There’s a whole story that the girl’s appearance tells, more than enough to move me away from the idea of sex with her. She is small and so thin she’s almost skin and bones, but it’s the thinness specific for the emotionally deprived. Lucia Reid is a girl who’s never felt loved; it must have become a constant pain she’s learned to live with. Maybe it was this repressed pain that gave her the strength to rip the membrane between the mortal world and Hell?
There’s a knock on the door.
“You asked to see me?” Silas says.
“Yes, please, have a seat.”
“You assessed her powers?” Silas’ demigod face rarely expresses something as vulnerable as curiosity, but it does now. I nod, making myself comfortable in my big boss chair.
“You were right, her case is special. Somehow borderline. She succeeded in ripping the membrane, yet her witch powers are barely strong enough for a consistent fortune telling, let alone substantial prophecies.”
“And yet the vision she had of that boy hanging from a hell-tree was a powerful one. There must be something to it.”
“He died ripped apart by the demons, didn’t he? So she didn’t actually see his future.”
Silas casts his eyes down. He’s sensitive when it comes to humans dying at demons’ hands, no matter how much of a prick a particular human happened to be.
“It will take more than my assessment to discover exactly what her abilities are,” I say. “I understand you ran a background check? What can you tell me about her past, her family, where does she come from?”
Silas
“SHE’S AN ORPHAN, BUT she got adopted when she was a baby. I don’t expect her to have any memories of the orphanage, but her foster parents seem to be nice people.” I take out my phone, and lay the device with its big display on the desk for the Lord Protector to see. He scrolls down through the pictures as I explain, frowning at the big bearded guy and the voluptuous woman surrounded by reddish-haired toddlers. “John and Valerie Reid. They never had biological children, so they worked closely with orphanages. All the kids were home-schooled up to a certain point, but then all of them went to high school. Mrs. Reid found it significantly more difficult to deal with teenagers than small kids, so she decided not to spoil her relationship with them, and give them freedom from that point on.”