Claimed by the Assassins (An Academy of Assassins Novel Book 3)

by Stacey Brutger

  A second later, his chest stilled.

  Ryder lifted his great head, giving a mournful howl, and tears froze as they trickled down her face. Ryder began stalking the draugr when a whole pack of wolves flooded the area. One by one they darted forward, and slowly, piece by piece, ripped the Viking apart one bite and claw at a time.

  When she glanced around the battlefield, she saw the rest of her team were struggling just as much.

  Despite the help of the huntsmen systematically picking off the Vikings, they were still losing.

  A large shadow drifted overhead, then wobbled precariously, and she saw Mal was being dragged down and overpowered by a draugr that had somehow latched onto his leg. Then he, too, was gone as he crashed to the earth, plowing up dirt as he tumbled to a halt and more draugr swarmed over him.

  Draven looked directly at her, sadness and desperation in his eyes when he took a running leap at a Viking sneaking up on Kincade. The Viking was lean, over seven feet tall, like he’d been stretched and stuck that way. The Viking calmly reached out, catching him by the neck, and pulled him close with a might roar.

  Though Draven hacked at the arm holding him, nearly severing it, the beast didn’t release him. Instead, he lifted Draven higher, then flung him to the ground.

  Draven hit so hard he actually bounced.

  When the siren turned and tried to crawl away, the Viking scowled and lifted his foot to stomp on him. Atlas whirled into view, slicing at the creature. His armor was ripped away, his perfect clothing torn. He was bruised and bloody, his movements slower and clumsier than normal.

  Kincade lifted a spear, reached back and launched it through the air like a javelin, piercing the creature through the chest.

  With a roar, the Viking turned and charged toward Kincade.

  Instead of fleeing, the gargoyle held his ground, a stubborn look of determination on his face.

  Pure fear tore the breath from her body.

  Kincade grabbed the spear, his body being pushed back, the tip of the weapon slowly sinking into his chest, a trickle of blood spilling from the wound. Then he dropped and twisted, flinging the Viking over his head. His chest was heaving as he struggled to his feet.

  Something inside her cracked. Power swirled to life, and she yanked the sword out of the ground. She was barely aware of the rest of the fighting around her, only conscious that her mates were hurt…dying.

  To protect her.

  Morgan lifted her hand and began tracing a rune in the air, letting instinct guide her, each stroke leaving behind a wisp of smoke, like the magic was scorching the air. Once complete, the symbol shimmered with little bits of lights, snapping and crackling along the lines.

  She lifted her sword, placing the blade in the palm of her hand, but she knew her blood wouldn’t be enough to save everyone. Small stars twinkled in the obsidian depths of the sword, and she realized if it could be used as a conduit to breach the veil, she should be able to use it to conduct her magic.

  Lifting the sword, she thrust it into the center of the symbol. The marks on her back that hadn’t responded in months burned back to life as if someone was carving them back into her flesh. The sigils wiggled under her skin, almost like they were rearranging themselves into a stamp of possession.

  The magic in her bones tore through her in response, both joining the dark universe at her core until everything thundered out of her in a wave of power, stealing her breath and shredding her soul. The world around her dimmed and tilted, her vision doubling, and she dropped to her knees.

  Magic slammed into the symbol with a level of power that made the air shiver.

  Instead of catching fire, the symbol basically imploded for a single heartbeat, then exploded outward in a swirling black mass, specks of metallic green glinting in the darkness. The tiny specks then blinked into life, lighting up like fireflies, glowing an ominous red.

  There were thousands of them, each dot seeming to split off into more. They shot right through the ghost that got a little too close, like they didn’t even register him. They twisted around the supernaturals, but when they encountered the living dead, the dark green metallic creatures landed, and immediately began to burrow into the flesh like scarabs.

  No matter how the Viking tried to scrape them off, it was like they’d become part of his flesh. They poured into his mouth and nose, crawled into his eyes and ears, so many that they actually seemed to light him up from within.

  Underneath his skin, his flesh rippled, and an anguished howl of pure torment escaped him. Spots of leathery skin began to dissolve like they’d been dipped in acid, and great gobbets of flesh and blood liquefied and began to plop off his bones in great blobs. In a matter of seconds, the only thing that remained was a pile of goo and an almost indistinguishable ghost.

  When he turned tail to flee, the huntsmen surged forward and tore him apart.

  A glance over the battlefield showed that all the draugr were being destroyed.

  “Morgan…” Ascher limped toward her, cradling his arm, half his face covered by a giant bruise, and she flinched to see the damage. He carefully stopped at her side, but refrained from touching her…as if he knew what she had done and was now afraid of her.

  And her heart broke.

  “…your hands.”

  Morgan blinked at him in surprise and automatically dropped her gaze.

  It looked like her fingers had been dipped in pure blackness so deep her hands seemed to vanish. As she stared, tiny specks from the void flickered into life, but when she gazed more deeply, she saw the universe and nebulas spin into existence.

  They matched the sword perfectly…the power seeming to cling to them both.

  When she glanced up, Kincade, Atlas and Draven were crouched in front of her. She couldn’t look at them, unable to bear their judgment without shattering. But she didn’t see…

  “Where’s Ryder?”

  She stumbled to her feet, frantically searching the area, unaware that she was backing up until she slammed into an immovable object. Before she could turn, warm stone wrapped around her, the arms more of a prison than comfort—Kincade.

  “Release me.”

  Terrified that she would accidently harm him, she let go of the sword, almost flinching when the metal snaked back up along her arms

  Instead of obeying, he picked her up, practically tossing her over his shoulder. She curled her hands into fists, terrified of him touching the deadly magic. When she wiggled in protest, his hand came to rest on her ass in warning. “You move, and I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

  Morgan was too stunned to argue. From her position, she saw Draven and Atlas were following close behind. They didn’t go more than a few yards before she found herself dropped roughly on her ass, the shock of it snapping her out of her funk.

  “What the hell?” She rubbed her hip and glared at Kincade.

  Then she saw Ryder lying stretched out next to Kaleb. He immediately edged toward her and hunkered down, pressing his head against her shoulder, and her heart hurt as she saw the playful kid lying so still. She rested her cheek against the top of Ryder’s head. “I’m sorry.”

  She gently reached out to touch Kaleb’s still form, hesitantly sinking her fingers into his shaggy fur. “I’m sorry.”

  To her shock, a wisp of smoke rose from his body, slowly forming into a ghostly shape of a wolf. “Kaleb?”

  The dog turned toward her, his tongue lolling out, and he bounded toward them. He skipped and jumped playfully, his tail wagging madly. Such innocence shone in his eyes, she swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it impossible to breathe. At first, she didn’t think that he was aware that he was dead, but then he yipped and turned, racing through his own body on his way to heckle the other wolves.

  “He’ll be fine.” Ryder had shifted into his human form, startling her so badly she flinched. “The pack will take care of him.”

  “What have I done?” Morgan stared at him blankly, not understanding how it was possible f
or her to call forth Kaleb’s spirit. She carefully inched away from the guys, unable to stop staring at the magic staining her fingers.

  “I warned you about using magic.” Ward scolded as he strolled toward them out of the gloom, as if Vikings and huntsmen were an everyday occurrence for him. The guys scowled at him, but he didn’t even bat an eyelash.

  He looked like he had the shit beat out of him, his berserker rage now exhausted and subdued, no doubt the only thing that helped keep him alive. “You’re in shock. You’re leaking magic. It’s tied to your emotions. You have to let go of the rage and fear. If you don’t, it will eat you alive.”

  Haunted eyes met hers, and she finally understood why he’d been stuck in the void—he had never been a prisoner. He walked into it trying to outrun his past.

  But there was no running.

  Morgan curled her hands into fists, never one to run from a fight. “What do I need to do?”

  “Trust them.” Ward glanced at the guys with a nod. “They know what to do.”

  With that, he strode away. She could tell the moment he spotted Breanna surrounded by her huntsmen. There was a slight hitch in his stride, a hesitation, then he took his own advice and strode toward her. Shade was already standing next to the banshee, no doubt telling her what she was doing wrong—if the way they were arguing was any indication. Ambrose lingered nearby, glowering at Shade, distractedly running his thumb across the sharp edge of the axe in his hand.

  It would be interesting to see the dynamics when they all realized they were mated.

  The students and teachers were milling through the crowd, tending to the injured and dead, already working on repairing the damage. Many cast glances at them, but thankfully kept their distance. Mal was crouched on the balcony, surveying everyone protectively with sharp eyes, his stone form a little more battered. When she couldn’t avoid them any longer, not able to stand the silence, Morgan turned to face her mates.

  “How do I get rid of the magic?”

  “You don’t.” Atlas glared at her, the burnt umber nearly overtaking his emerald eyes. “It’s a part of you. You accepted each of us without question, never asking us to change. You never flinched when you discovered our secrets, exposed our greatest fears, and accepted us—accepted me—even though most people would think it a mercy to put me out of my misery. You love my dark side as well as my light side. Why would you think we will be any less understanding?”

  Ryder nudged her gently. “Despite being mostly a dangerous beast trapped in human form, you never shied away from me. You spend as much time with my beast as you do my human side, accepting us both without question. You showed us that we were equal and worthy of your love.”

  Ascher gestured toward his singed shirt, the threads barely hanging together. “I was sent to kill you, my very presence strikes terror into the hearts of people, yet you saw something in me worth saving. You never once hesitated or flinched away from me, even though you know it would only take one touch for you to literally get burned. You never once gave up on me. Your love gave me enough courage to fight for a future with you by my side. I won’t give it up now. For me, there is only you, any way that I can have you.”

  “I’m both feared and revered for my touch. Yet you never once flinched away from getting to know the real me, seeing past all the bullshite.” Instead of jokes or teasing, Draven met her gaze directly, his eyes so deep and stormy she could practically see the ocean swelling in them. “Hell, even when I pushed you away, you fought for me…me! Not my powers, not what I could make you feel. You fought for me, the orphan with nothing to his name, by starting a freakin’ war. How can I not love you? I don’t care about your magic or lack of it. It’s what’s underneath everything that I will adore and worship until my dying breath. Mating marks or not, you are mine.”

  Kincade held out his hand to her, patiently waiting when she flinched, but he didn’t show even a flicker of fear. “I lost everything before you. My reality was one of duty, where I would eventually turn to stone and serve as a guardian. I didn’t realize how much I had already given up on life until you came along. I can’t go back. I won’t. You stole my heart. It’s much too late to give it back now.”

  Morgan could barely breathe as emotions stormed through her. “I never expected to find love or family. Most of the time, I couldn’t even trust anyone but myself. Nothing could’ve prepared me for meeting any of you, and the way you each have changed my life. It was like finding pieces of my soul.

  “I’m terrified of losing you and going back to that barren existence. You see my failings as gifts. You’ve seen me at my worst and think I’m beautiful. I think you’re all crazy, but I wouldn’t trade any of you for this world or the next.”

  Taking a deep breath, she took a leap of faith and placed her hand in Kincade’s.

  When he didn’t die a horrible death, the starch went out of her spine, a sob catching in the back of her throat. One by one the guys gathered close, each of them touching her, holding her, until it felt like part of her soul finally settled.

  “Look.” Draven bent his head to study her hands, and she watched in amazement as the dark magic receded, until only her fingernails remained stained black as proof of her power. Different solar systems and nebulas seemed to twist and spin in each one, the effect both stunning and creepy.

  “I hate to interrupt.” The headmistress stood a few feet away from them, a small smile playing about her lips. “But the king will be returning in a few hours. We need all the help we can get to put this place back to rights.”

  Morgan reluctantly got to her feet, not sure if she was ready to face another day yet. But when the guys rose with her, she knew that whatever came their way, it was worth it. Whatever the future held, they would face it together.

  The guys wandered off to give a helping hand to the injured, but never went far. Instead of being annoyed, she found their nearness reassuring. She’d come too close to losing everything to take their presence in her life for granted. She was sure the fear would fade over time, that they would soon begin to irritate the shit out of her, but for now she was content to have them all safe and within touching distance.

  “I’m sorry if I overstepped and stomped on your toes when speaking to the king about the Academy.” Morgan eyed the tiny woman next to her, uncertain if the headmistress would smile or try to rip her arm off and beat her with it.

  “The Academy has always been at the mercy of others. As the administrator, I’m helpless to do anything but steer it the best I can.” The headmistress shrugged, almost seeming pleased. “Your claim changes things. You’ve proven tonight, once again, that you’re strong enough to hold this place.”

  “But you will stay on as administrator, right?” Morgan shuddered at the thought of being forced to actually run the school. “You can remain on as head of the students and faculty, while MacGregor, the guys, and I will deal with the hunters and assignments.”

  The headmistress appeared both surprised and pleased, color rising into her face, until she looked almost pretty…for a fairy with black eyes that were a little too large for her face and teeth that practically dripped venom when she smiled. She straightened her stained suit jacket and nodded. “I would enjoy the responsibility.”

  Then, without hesitation, she stomped on a large bug that was trying to escape the Academy, giving a vicious twist of her boot for extra measure. The crackle and crunch made Morgan cringe. Green guts squished out in every direction, remnants of a draugr no doubt.

  It was a sharp reminder that some days you were the bug, while other days you were the boot. Most days she felt a little bit of both, but with the help of the guys, she was learning how to deal with both.

  With a sigh of pleasure, the headmistress trotted off toward a group of nearby students. MacGregor and Mistress McKay stood off to the side, standing close, their heads bent together, and her heart warmed at the sight of them.

  Morgan came to a stop next to Mal, leaning against the railing where he w
as perched. Her necklace warmed gently, the metal twisting and spinning, until a delicate Celtic knot with dozens of lines seemed to move and flow into one another in a never-ending circuit.

  Morgan turned and surveyed the chaos around the Academy, smiling to see the wolves, witches, hunters and the huntsmen working together as equals—it gave her hope for the future.

  Draven watched Morgan run with Ryder and his wolves, Loki and Kaleb’s ghostly form nipping playfully at their heels, her laughter bringing a genuine smile to his face. Awe still held him captive every time he remembered that he was finally free…thanks to her.

  He was only starting to believe it was real.

  That she loved him enough to risk everything for someone like him.

  He nervously touched the spell in his pocket. He wanted to show her how much she meant to him, but was worried about what she’d think of his gift. “Is it too much?”

  Kincade, Atlas and Ascher were standing next to him, all three of them more relaxed than he’d ever seen them. It was only an hour after sunset, two days after the attack, and none of them were comfortable letting her out of their sight yet. Maybe they’d never grow out of it, but Draven was fine with that.

  “She’ll love it,” Kincade assured him.

  Overhead Mal and his mate flew over the grounds in their gargoyle forms, swooping and diving in an intricate dance of love. They could go anywhere, but it didn’t surprise him that they wanted to remain with the Academy and Morgan.

  Early that morning, Morgan had brought the female gargoyle up to the rooftop. It had taken only one touch for the hardened gargoyle to waken. He took one look at his love, then swept her up in his arms and leapt over the side of the building. They hadn’t left each other’s sides since.

  Not that he could blame them.

  If he had a chance to kidnap Morgan and keep her to himself for a few hours, he would do it in a heartbeat.