Demon War: Shadowguard Academy Book 4

by Samantha Britt

Fabian steps farther into the room, eyeing the leak in the ceiling with a frown. “I apologize for your less than welcoming accommodations, but it’s the best I could do given the fact you did not come to us willingly.”

  I scowl, unable to hold my tongue. “In what world did you think I would ever come willingly?” He’s got to be out of his mind.

  He waves a dismissive hand, not providing an answer.

  “How could you do this?” I whisper. The reality of my predicament steals the strength from my voice.

  “I’ve done nothing.”

  “You ambushed me.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You’re working with the enemy.”

  “A necessary evil, I assure you.” The calm look on his face reveals he means everything he says.

  It’s official: my grandfather is delusional.

  “You said you wanted my blood.” I throw out an arm with a snarl. “Take it. Then let me go.”

  “I’ve already retrieved my first sample while you slept.” He looks pointedly at my offered arm.

  I look down and gasp. There are two puncture marks on my elbow. For a moment, I think a vampire has fed from me, but then I realize the marks are too close together to have come from a vampire bite.

  I lower my arm. “If you wanted my blood so badly, you could’ve just asked.”

  “Belial would’ve never allowed it.”

  I see red. “So you betrayed me? You betrayed the alliance—everything they’ve been working for—just to get ahold of my blood.”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “Why?” I press. Rage flows through me, making me shake.

  “My son is dead.”

  Weeks ago, his words would’ve destroyed me. I’ll always carry the burden of what happened with me, but I know, now, I am not the one to blame.

  “That’s what all this is about?” I exhale. “You think I’m the one responsible, but Azazel is the one who ripped his heart out.” I’ll never forget the way it kept beating, even after being torn from his chest. Just thinking about it makes bile rise in my throat.

  Fabian acts as if I didn’t speak. “Antonio is dead. The Shadowguard is weak. My clan needs allies—strong ones. I’ve done what I needed to do to ensure Blackstone’s survival.”

  “You’ve gotten into bed with your enemy!” I shout. The noise makes my head throb, but I don’t stop. “You are working with the original who killed your son. How can you rationalize this in your mind?”

  “As I’ve said, I’m doing what I must.”

  This conversation is going nowhere. It’s clear I can’t rely on my grandfather to get me out of here. I need to rely on myself.

  Focusing inward, I begin searching for the tingling sensation of my power traveling under my skin. I reach for warmth, but I am greeted by cold emptiness.

  My pulse pounds in my ears. Frantic, I try again and again to call forth my holy fire.

  But time and time again, I fail.

  “Is there a problem?” Fabian asks, no doubt seeing panic in my expression.

  “What—” My throat threatens to close. I choke out, “What have you done to me?” I stare down at my hands in disbelief and sorrow.

  “Ah.” Understanding lights his wrinkled gaze. “You are concerned about your gifts. Don’t worry. Their absence isn’t permanent.”

  I slap my hands down at my sides and glare. “What did you do to me?”

  “I did nothing. You are experiencing a side effect of the Naamah’s injection.”

  “What injection?”

  “The compound she used to subdue you,” he elaborates easily, as if he’s discussing something as ordinary as the weather. “I have to admit, I was surprised the injection worked. Then again, I suppose it makes sense. After all, Guardians and Originals are the antithesis of one another. It makes sense the essence of one neutralizes the other.”

  His vague ramble spikes my irritation.

  “What are you talking about?” I snap, so close to losing control and launching myself at him. If I didn’t think he had a wealth of defensive magic to use against me, I probably already would have given it a shot. “What was in the injection?”

  Fabian looks at the ceiling and seems to speak to himself when he says, “I’ve been conducting research for years now, experimenting with compounds to neutralize powers for demons and Guardians alike. I never thought to incorporate the last ingredient until Naamah made the suggestion. It’s truly remarkable.”

  I lose it. “WHAT WAS IN THE INJECTION?”

  Slowly, his gaze drops down and meets mine. His eyes are empty of any semblance of emotion when he finally reveals, “The active ingredient is Original blood. Your powers are neutralized by the blood of none other than Naamah, herself.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It’s been two and a half days since I woke up in the cell and my holy fire is still out of reach. I can feel hints of the power calling to me with longing, but no matter how hard I try, I cannot bring it forth.

  This feeling of emptiness is worse than before I faced the wyvern. Heck, I’d even say it’s worse than when I had a mental block preventing me from accessing the power at all. At least I didn’t know what I was missing back then. Now, the absence of my power makes me feel naked and vulnerable.

  I hate it.

  Fabian checks on me once a day to assess the state of my power. Other than him, I haven’t seen a soul. I keep waiting for Naamah, or even Azazel, to make an appearance. But the originals apparently have better things to do than taunt their prisoner. I’m not sure if that makes me nervous or relieved. There’s no way they are up to anything good. I kind of wish one of them would show their perfect immortal faces, if only so I can try to figure out what, exactly, is going on.

  I sit in the center of the stone room with my legs stretched out in front of me. I reach forward and touch my toes, trying to alleviate the dull ache in my lower back and limbs. My cell is too small for adequate exercise, and my body protests against my lack of movement. Fabian used magic to construct a metal toilet and flimsy shower stall in the corner of the room, further diminishing the space I have to work with.

  I only use the restroom when absolutely necessary. I’m convinced there is some sort of camera or magical surveillance monitoring this room, and the thought of anyone seeing me conduct personal business is mortifying. But there’s only so much stubbornness can achieve. Eventually, nature calls, and I am forced to suck up my embarrassment, latching onto the promise of retribution for those who put me in this situation. Belial will lose it when he figures out what’s happened to me.

  Belial.

  Just his name triggers familiar sparks over my skin.

  I haven’t let myself think about Belial these past days. The fact he hasn’t found me makes me fear something bad has happened to him, and my soul coils into an agonized heap at the mere thought.

  I can’t myself to dwell on my fear. Belial wouldn’t want that. He’d want me to focus on finding a way out of this cell. Which would be much easier, if my powers would decide to wake from their induced slumber.

  Metal screeches on the other side of the door as the security bar is lifted. I bring my legs to my body and cross them underneath me, settling in to welcome my daily visitor.

  The short, hunched man I first met at his home in Blackstone territory shuffles into the room. The door closes behind him, and the metal bar settles back in place. That’s the only evidence I have that someone else is aware of my location.

  “Good morning, Aspen.”

  It’s morning?

  That means I’m on day three of my abduction. It’s easy to lose sense of time in this depressing prison.

  I don’t return his greeting. My green eyes—the same hue as his—glare from underneath a head of disheveled hair. Fabian hasn’t bothered to provide me a brush, and I refuse to ask him for anything. The only reason I got the makeshift bathroom was, no doubt, because whoever monitors the room saw me doing the pot
ty dance on my first day here.

  “No snappy greeting today?” He asks, dropping a black medicine bag at his feet. He crouches down and begins rummaging through the bag. “What a pity.”

  I take in his vulnerable position. Now would be the perfect time to land a few good blows if I wanted, but I have no idea how long it would take him to retaliate with magic. Not to mention, it’s not like attacking him will allow me to escape. We’re both locked in here.

  No… I need to be patient.

  The only thing getting me through this imprisonment is the knowledge that my powers will eventually come back and I will have a chance to escape. If I do something foolish now, Fabian could dose me with another bout of magic and further delay the return of my holy fire.

  So, I sit and wait. I let the full weight of my hateful stare land on Fabian as he continues to search his bag, smiling inside when he throws an uneasy glance my way.

  Seconds pass.

  I’m fighting the urge to fidget when Fabian finally pulls something out of his seemingly bottomless bag.

  Between his fingers, I see a syringe.

  I leap to my feet and scramble back until I hit the stone wall. I press my palms into the sturdy surface and snarl, “Don’t you dare come near me with that thing.”

  Fabian’s bones crack as he stands. He lowers his arm and states, “I need more blood.”

  “Screw you.” My voice sounds braver than I feel. Inside, I’m a mess. My heart is racing, and terror drips in my veins.

  “I do not want to detain you, Aspen,” he says, “but I will.” He mutters under his breath. A black cloud of smoke gathers over his head. It hangs ominously, waiting for its master to tell it to act.

  My lungs seize as I remember how it felt to be suffocated by his magic.

  “You wouldn’t.” I press as close as the wall as my body will allow.

  “I would,” Fabian contradicts. “I do not want to drug you to get what I need. This will be easier for us if you comply and let me take a blood sample.”

  Everything within me screams at the thought of letting the sharp instrument anywhere near me, but I know he will get what he wants eventually. This is simply a matter of if he will incapacitate me or not.

  With dread heavy in my throat, I give a jerky nod. “Fine.” I shove off the wall, walk to the thin mattress, and sit. “Do it.”

  Fabian nods and shuffles to my side. He leans forward. “Hold out your arm.”

  I fling out my limb, barely missing his face. Fabian takes a strip of colored rubber and wraps it around my bicep. His knees creak as he bends down, taking my wrist and lowering it to rest on the mattress.

  He taps the veins at my elbow, testing which one he should draw from. When he uncaps the syringe, I have to look away.

  The prick is painful—more painful than it would be if I weren’t so tense. I count to seven before he withdraws the stinging instrument.

  “All done.” Fabian unlaces the rubber around my arm, rips open an alcohol swab, and rubs the inside of my elbow. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  I snatch the swab from his fingers and scoot back on the mattress, getting as far away as possible.

  He sighs, then holds out a sterile cotton cloth. “Apply pressure to the area for at least ten minutes.”

  “Fine.”

  He remains kneeling, watching me. For a moment, it looks as if he wants to say something, but then he thinks better of it. With a shake of his head, he stands and pockets my blood in his cloak pocket.

  “Why do you need my blood?”

  Fabian stills when he hears my whispered words. “Pardon?”

  I clench my free hand into a fist. “Why do you need my blood?”

  It’s a question that’s bothered me since I woke up and realized he’d taken a sample of my blood. The powerful warlock had used Naamah’s blood to create a medication to subdue my holy fire, but what is he doing with mine?

  “I use your blood in my experiments.”

  I grit my teeth. I’ve heard that before, but it doesn’t explain anything.

  “What experiments?”

  He doesn’t speak.

  “Is this about Azazel? Are you really giving him my blood so he can open more portals to bring demons from Hell?” I don’t understand how Fabian could stomach doing so, but then again, it turns out I know absolutely nothing about my paternal grandfather or his loyalties.

  “Not quite,” he replies, scuffling across the room and picking up his medicine bag.

  Alarm strikes me. I don’t want him to leave without giving me answers.

  I decide a different tactic. “You’ve turned your back on the alliance, and you’ve sided with an original demon who wants nothing more than to take over the world and rule it under his evil thumb. The least you could do is explain to your granddaughter why you are doing this.”

  I try not to look surprised when my words actually make him pause.

  Fabian looks over his shoulder. “I’m doing this for the good of my clan.”

  I don’t see how the two can possibly be related.

  “Would your clan approve of what you’re doing?” Fabian is one of the elders in his clan—a de facto leader—but he’s not the only one. Does this betrayal end with him, or does it extend into the rest of his clan’s leadership?

  “My clan will forgive any reservations they have once I am successful.”

  That’s a no…

  “How can you be sure?”

  He turns back towards the door. “Because, if I’m successful, my clan will reap the rewards.” He lifts his hand to knock on the metal door—the signal indicating whoever waits on the other side to let him out.

  “Wait!” I rush across the room and throw myself between him and the door. Fabian is forced to take a step back. “What do you mean? What reward?”

  I really don’t know why Fabian decides to humor me. Perhaps there’s a part of him that feels guilty for keeping me locked in this room day and night. Or perhaps he knows telling me will make no difference. I’m trapped here. There’s nothing I can do to impede him in any way.

  “If my experiments are successful, which I strongly believe they will be, my clan will have the ability to deactivate the powers of other demon races.”

  My mouth grows slack. He can’t be serious.

  “Once the compound is complete, witches and warlocks in my clan will no longer need to fear other demon races. We will have the upper hand. We will be on top.”

  “That’s what this is about?” I exhale with a whisper, hardly able to believe what I’m hearing. “Power? You would turn your back on the Shadowguard and your lesser demon allies for power?”

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” He states plainly.

  “But we were never your enemy!”

  Seriously. I don’t understand my grandfather’s motivations. They are so shortsighted and evil.

  “What makes you think he won’t use this compound against you?” Fabian can’t honestly be naïve enough to actually believe Azazel is his ally.

  “Because we have an agreement, and a demon can’t lie,” a new voice enters the conversation. I jolt, banging my head painfully against the metal door, when I see Azazel’s blond head and flawless physique materialize in the center of the cell.

  The original demon sneers at the makeshift bathroom before swinging his gaze to me. His eyes trail over me from my head to my toes. “Perhaps it’s time to show you what we’ve been working on.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I’m marched down a concrete corridor, flanked by Azazel on one side and my grandfather on the other. Whoever had been standing outside the cell’s door had disappeared the moment the door was open. I wonder if magic was involved, or if he or she is simply a demon with the power to transport from one location to another.

  I wait for the ground to slope up to bring us to the surface, or at least an area with some windows, but the stone floor is straight and flat. I don’t know what demonstration Azazel has in store, but I’
m wise enough to be afraid.

  “No questions for me, love?” I feel Azazel’s piercing eyes drill into the side of my face. I keep my head forward and continue walking. His presence triggers all of my fears, forcing me to relive those torturous moments in the warehouse, and the agonizing pain unlike anything else I’d ever experienced.

  Fortunate for me, the memories are no longer debilitating. In fact, they stir my hatred and fuel my anger. If I had access to my holy fire, I wouldn’t hesitate to light Azazel up like a Christmas tree.

  “You were much more talkative the last time we saw each other.”

  I grit my teeth. “The last time we saw each other, you killed my father and stabbed me in the chest. Forgive me if I don’t want to chit chat.” Maybe it’s because I’ve been trapped inside a cement block for days, but I feel like my sense of self-preservation is shot. I shouldn’t be provoking Azazel, but I can’t find it in me to care.

  “Surely you know it was nothing personal,” his voice slinks and slivers over me, chilling me to the bone. “I did what I had to do.”

  “You didn’t have to do anything,” I seethe. “You’re greedy. You wanted power. Nothing you did was necessary.”

  “I disagree, oh beloved of my brother.” I look up and see ire flash in Azazel’s eyes—the only sign my words get under his skin. “Your predecessor’s actions made my own absolutely necessary.”

  Before I can respond, we reach the end of the corridor. Another steel door stands in our path, but this one has a thick plexiglass window in the middle. Through it, I see evidence of more concrete walls and fluorescent lights. We must be in some sort of bunker. I wonder how much our location has played into the fact Belial hasn’t found me yet.

  Focus, Aspen. Don’t go there right now.

  I listen to the voice in my head and turn my attention to the situation at hand. Azazel said he wanted to show me something. Whatever it is, it’s behind that door. I need to be ready.

  Despite his advanced age, Fabian picks up the pace and reaches the door first. His fingers glow as he uses magic to unlock the door. Then, he pulls it open just as Azazel and I reach him.