by A. K. Koonce
A fist connects with the side of my face, blinding me briefly with a flash of white across my vision. I gasp.
Anger.
Rage.
A coiling combination of both rises up fully inside of me.
It claws through me with unforgiving hands. I feel it inside and out like an answer to everything I’ve asked for. I have the brief sensation of deja vu, of warm phantom hands caressing my cheeks and whispering, I will protect you now…
And then something in me snaps right down the middle.
Twenty-Seven
Saint
She’s made of stars and fire. It shines in the profound depths of her eyes like the pits of hell and the cosmos beyond heaven itself. She’s ephemeral. Iridescent.
And she’s fucking beautiful.
The force of her power is the torrent of storms. It’s destructive and the impact hurdles towards us like a crashing wave. I fall to my back, the shock ricocheting through my every nerve until I gasp for breath. Bones inside my body crack as quickly as they start to heal and even then it’s agony. The pain screams through me entirely but I ignore it as I pull myself up. I think of nothing. Not of the screeching torment of each step or the force of her power ripping through my skin.
I think of nothing but Izara.
The light surrounding her body is blinding, a war of fire and darkness circling her in powerful wisps.
They say the most deadly creatures are often the most alluring.
Her, this woman right now, she could draw the whole world into her lair and consume the poor souls in a single bite. And more would line up in front of her in their absence.
I’ve never witnessed anything quite like the Prod that rips out of her. She’s no feck. She’s something else entirely. Something I’ve never heard of before.
Her arms rise at her sides and she lifts towards the skies like an avenging goddess. Shadows pulsate around her, shooting from her back to form the image of phantasmal wings that flap with powerful strokes. Her palms glow, golden threads of liquid fire flowing through her veins. Her power shoots out from her body like fireworks and the black trees ignite and crumble into ash with a single kiss of her magic.
The entire ground below my feet shakes and splits down the center, It’s a jagged line that splinters across the earth and shudders towards Dormitory J. A loud crack pierces the air like raging thunder and the whole dorm shudders just before disaster strikes and the building explodes into showering brick and dust. Debris rains down on me, touching my parted lips as I try to just breathe it all in and understand what’s happening around me.
“Izara!” I try to run towards her but my knees shake and give in. I’m still healing, still too fucking weak to get to her. Wind and dust slap against me in one giant wave. I drag myself across the ground to reach her, my nails cracking as I dig them into the ground to crawl closer to the deadly goddess of a woman. “Izara!”
Rocks strike against my temple, something falls with earth quaking impact. And then after a moment, everything goes still.
I cough and grit my teeth as I stand. My mouth is heavy with ash and the sulfur of deadly magic. My dark lashes lift. Izara slowly drifts down as softly and as gently as the fall of a snowflake. She lands divinely like a heaven-sent angel.
And then her knees give out and she’s sprawled on the ground in a matter of seconds.
I can’t seem to get to her fast enough.
“Izara?” I slam to my knees and I pull her into my arms, holding her there against me. She’s limp and cold to the touch but I can hear the thunderous pumping of her heart, the flowing of her blood, the delicious rapid beating of her pulse.
She’s alive.
Jesus Christ, she’s alive.
Her dark hair is splayed against her skin in sticky strands. I push them away with gentle, trembling fingers.
“Wake up, baby.” I cradle her cheek, thumb tracing over the curve. “Please…”
Pain sinks through my quiet chest.
Seeing her like this… it causes something to break inside me. I had one task. One fucking task. To watch her, to protect her with my life and I couldn’t do that. I failed her. I failed Phoenix.
I fucking failed myself.
I hold her closer to my chest, her small body feeling fragile against mine.
I couldn’t even protect her from herself.
With visceral slowness, her eyes blink open. Beautiful deep brown eyes peer up at me through thick black lashes.
Relief pressurizes my chest as I take in gasp after gasp of air. Her eyelids flutter and I can’t help but think she looks like sleeping beauty awakening after the chaos.
Beautiful and tragic.
“Saint…” Her voice is a weak rasp that shivers through me, her expression drawn with confusion. She twists her head to the side just slightly, eyes widening at the sight of the destruction. Her destruction. “What happened?” Her eyes flick back to mine and there’s so much fucking trust in her gaze that it damn near cleaves me in two. She shouldn't look at me like that. I don’t deserve her trust. I don’t deserve her anything.
Why would I, when I couldn’t even keep her safe from this?
Fuck.
The aftermath is not going to be good.
I don’t want to fucking lose her. It’s pathetic how I realize my feelings once everything has gone to shit.
Just as I always do.
“You don’t remember?”
She was always so careful with her Prod.
And now I know why.
Her nose scrunches and I’d find the image too damn cute if I wasn’t so worried.
“I—I—” her breath shudders past her cracked and bleeding lips.
“She’s not a feck. She’s a fucking monster.” The guttural voice makes me realize that we aren’t alone. That the shifters who attacked us broke and healed just like I did. And the one who hurt Izara is looking down at her like she’s a beast, like she’s a demon.
My earlier rage consumes me all over again. I can feel my fangs lengthening, begging to tear through this fucker’s throat.
I extricate myself from Izzy’s soft curves slowly and prowl towards the mutt. In barely more than half a blink I’m in front of him, my hand wraps around his throat right over his pulse.
I am going to kill him, drain him of every ounce of his blood.
Fuck the consequences.
“You fucking bastard.” I lift his brawny body off the ground, muscles rippling in my biceps. He gasps for breath, claws digging several inches into my arm. His pathetic attempts to fight me off only fuel the beast inside myself.
I’ve never killed before.
Not fully.
But I’m going to start with him.
And maybe I’ll finish with his friends.
Before I can rip out his throat with my fangs, a voice cuts through the haze of my blind rage. “Mr. Von Hunter, please set him down. Now.”
Professor Shade suddenly blinks into existence. His eyes barely take in the aftermath of the shit storm around him but I know he’s aware. He’s glancing at my fingers that are sunk deeply into the shifter’s throat and then shifting a watchful look to Izara who stands on shaking knees behind me.
“He hurt her.” And he deserves to die.
“Let him go.”
I can’t. Don’t want to.
Reckless rage burns through every inch of my body.
But then Izzy’s hand’s on my arm. Her touch is gentle. Kind. No trace is left of her violent Prod that tore down our dorm, but I know it clings tightly inside her. It’s there. And I understand why she hasn’t let it out before now.
“Saint.”
The broken sound of her voice is the only reason I toss his worthless body near the Professor’s feet. The wolf sprawls and scrambles up quickly.
“I didn’t do it, Professor!” The fucker looks ready to piss his gym pants as he takes Izara in. Like she’s going to kill him with a single look.
Maybe my goddess can.
Izara
Castillo is a fucking goddess. And I’ve never wanted to worship so badly in my life.
The shifter is lucky.
She should have torn him apart. I don’t think her conscience could have taken it though. I know she lives in fear of the thing inside her. Of knowing. Of not knowing. Of hurting. But fuck, I want him to suffer for what he did to her.
“It was the feck. She—she ripped everything apart.”
Izzy’s hand on my arm tightens. Her gaze swoops around the destroyed space. The despair is there. Every painful inch of it marrs her beautiful features when she first lays eyes on what she’s done.
“I did this?” Her words are barely a weak whisper. Shock tremors through her and I have nothing to offer but the comfort of my hand wrapping around her waist and pulling her close.
“It’s alright,” I whisper against her temple.
“B—but I couldn’t have—I mean—I’m so careful.” Panic sets over her. The sentiment is vicious. This whole thing is a clusterfuck. She could get expelled. The raw power inside her… it’s too much. Uncontrollable Prods are feared. She can be killed for that alone.
Suddenly, one by one, professors and guards blink into the scene, guided by the Headmaster.
I hate that prick and I barely know him.
He takes one look at the demolished building and sucks in a breath. Izzy clings to me. I won’t let her go. Not when this is my fault. If I would have protected her better, none of this shit would have happened.
“Who has done this?” the Headmaster demands, his gaze closing in on Izzy. She subtly steps back from his watchful gaze, slipping deeper into my arms.
“Headmaster Willms, this Prod attacked his fellow students.” Professor Shade shoves the fucking shifter forward.
I watch the wolf and his friends pass. I memorize every single face of the Prods I am going to kill.
“As you’re aware, attacking, maiming and killing is against the rules. The four of you broke the rules and therefore are disqualified from the game, have failed the exam, and are hereby placed under arrest.” The Professor is cold and unforgiving to the other team in a way I’ve never seen him be all semester.
The shifter staggers a bit and whirls on the Professor, a look of pure betrayal on his face. "But I—You—You said—"
Professor Shade snaps his fingers with magic stinging the air. The shifter’s mouth moves but no words come out, silenced by a form of simple power.
“Take this disgrace of a Prod away.” Professor Shade waves a hand toward our attacker.
The guards are immediately there and between one rapid blink of the eye and the next, they’re gone, leaving tendrils of smoke in their wake.
Then the Headmaster turns to us.
“And who destroyed our school? Confess and perhaps the punishment will be more lenient.”
I know better. There’s no leniency here. The term doesn’t exist. There’s nothing but pain and tears, blood and suffering.
Izara wouldn’t survive their punishment. Her deadly Prod wouldn’t let her.
She squares her shoulders and steps forward. But I can’t bear it. They’ll fucking destroy her if I let her go.
I was supposed to protect her.
And protect her I will.
“I did it, Headmaster.” My voice rings out into the night like a call to the wild.
Headmaster Willms blinks, shakes his head back and forth and stares at me like I’ve lost my damn mind.
It’s never been clearer.
“I don’t think I heard you correctly, Mr. Von Hunter. You did all of this? A vampire?" He motions to the wrecked building behind him.
Wow, talk about bigot. I’m a vampire not a bunny, asshole.
My fingers dig into Izzy’s waist in warning before I let my hand drop and step forward. “Yes, Sir. I—I get kind of wound up when I drink too much Type O positive.” A smile twists at my lips. Perfect arrogance right in place. It’s the look I use when I disappoint my father. With twenty-one years of experience, I’ve got it down to an art form.
The Headmaster blinks again. “You’re a vampire.” He drags that term through the dirt once more.
My fangs flash. “Kind of you to notice.”
I can see the literal confusion swirling around him. He can’t make sense of this. He knows I’m lying, but I’d rather see myself dead and arrested before I let this fuckery of a place harm her.
“How did you cause all this destruction?”
My shoulder lifts in a careless shrug. “Homemade bomb. Found a tutorial on the internet, wanted to see if it would work. Looks like it did. The stuff fecks come up with, am I right?”
The Headmaster stutters, beady eyes drifting to Izzy behind me.
Don’t look at her, asshole. Look at me.
He clearly doesn’t believe me. He has to. He has to…
“It’s true, Headmaster.” Professor Shade steps forward in one form gliding movement. “I was in charge of watching over their section. I saw Mr. Von Hunter detonate it.”
“But Miss Castillo—”
“Izara Castillo has shown absolutely no promise or hint of powers since she arrived. You really think this feck had anything to do with this?” Professor Shade gestures to the girl he’s helped all semester. The feck. “Mr. Von Hunter, on the other hand, has done everything he possibly can to get thrown out of this academy.”
Yup. That’s me.
Finally, someone acknowledges my accomplishments.
I try not to narrow my eyes suspiciously at the Professor though. Why is he helping us? No one ever expects something for nothing. What’s his endgame?
The thoughts race through my mind and I have no time to warn Izzy, to question him before the Headmaster declares in a firm voice, “Then, Saint Von Hunter, you are hereby detained for the destruction of the Academy of Six and attacking your fellow classmates.”
Wow, he really played judge and jury a little fast there. I wasn’t expecting that.
A guard steps towards me with thundering steps and I turn on my heels to face Izara. To see her face one last time because I know what’s coming. I know what awaits me.
“Saint, no,” she whispers, barely getting the words past her lips.
My hands clasp her own. I relish in the feeling of her warm skin.
“Tell Phoenix I said bye.” And because I don’t want to spend my life wondering what it would have been like, I press my lips slowly against hers. It’s soft, firm, and she gasps against me.
I know I’ll remember that sensual sound while I’m rotting away in my cell. I’ll remember it even as they push me to madness. I’ll remember it even when they sentence me to death.
Her mouth tastes like ash and tears. Hers or mine, I don’t know, but I know I’ll remember the taste of our goodbye forever.
“Goodbye, Izara Castillo.”
“Don’t,” she whispers on a shaking breath against my mouth. She makes a move to grab me, to keep me tethered to her somehow, but the guard is faster.
A heavy hand clamps on my arm and everything else fades away like sand through a time turner.
I feel no regret as I fall into the void. If I couldn’t protect Izzy any other way, then I can do it like this. My final gift to her. If I can’t give her anything else, I can give her this.
My life.
My lost soul.
Every single broken piece of me belongs to her now.
Twenty-Eight
Izara
The moment I reach for Saint, my fingers clutch dark smoke instead. It slips through the spaces between my fingers, as empty as the burning holes inside my chest.
He’s gone.
And I can’t even remember why.
I should fucking remember but there are blank spots of nothing where memory should be. If there’s one inextricable truth among the chaos, it’s that I unleashed my Prod and Saint took the fall for me.
This shouldn’t be happening. How many people are going to get hurt because of me, because I can’t control what’s inside? And why
can’t I remember?
“Get your Prods together,” the Headmaster commands in a cold voice. I can barely hear him over the cacophony of my own distressed thoughts.
“Izara?” A hand touches my shoulder. I blink away tears, I didn’t realize I was crying, and find Professor Shade before me. His bicolored eyes are filled with sadness and worry and they flick over me with assessment and curiosity. “Are you alright?”
“He took the fall for me. Why would he do that? Why would he fucking do that?” I can feel myself falling apart into thousands of fragmented pieces. My fists slam into Professor Shade’s shoulders. My body reacts on a primitive instinct. I pound my anger into him and shout, dissolving into sobs that wrack painfully through my body.
Gentle hands settle against my back.
“Why would you let him lie for me?” I whisper on a gasping voice.
The reality is, I’m the one who should be arrested. I’m the one they should haul off to isolation or prison or whatever terrible fate they have waiting.
And now Saint will die for what I’ve done.
“What the fuck happened here?” Phoenix’s voice slices through me like a fresh wound. It makes me still in the Professor’s arms before I take in one shuddering breath and turn to face the demon’s wrath.
Black eyes gauge the chaotic mess my Prod created. They flick over every inch of debris and dust before settling on my face, on the blood trickling down my mouth as slow as the dribble of honey that tastes more vile than sweet. Like betrayal and death.
“What happened?” the incubus growls the question, barely concealing the thrum of absolute power radiating from his body, the hatred and the desire for something that surpasses sex. Vengeance. “Who did this to you?”
I step forward on shaking knees. I have to be strong, I have to push down the rage that blazes rampantly through my chest, ignore the despair and control the tremors of my voice. “W—we were attacked and…”
His eyes flare like black hellfire, the dark veins around his eyes pulsing. He growls, the sound more demon than human, and whirls around, stomping among broken bits of trees and building.