No amount of encouragement or hype could prepare me for the feel of the spellbook room. I inhaled the comforting smell of leather, old paper, sandalwood, and hints of lavender that lingered in the air of the main library before stepping into the spellbook room. The feel and smell of it served its purpose as a staunch reminder of the dark and portentous world—and my new role in it.
As I dropped my bag on a chair, I took in the new changes: shorter bookcases, a juniper-scented candle on a warmer, a clock on the wall, and a bowl of fruit, individually packaged nuts, and chips in a bowl. The juniper couldn’t overshadow the scent of potent magic that thickened the air. Or the nudge of reproach it inflicted on me. I was an interloper. Definitely someone who didn’t belong, and the room made sure to remind me of that. The markings on my finger didn’t seem to be enough grounds for entry. Despite that, I removed the ring.
Taking a seat, I pulled out the notepad and looked at the notes I’d scribbled last night once I realized insomnia had won. Seven spells from the markings needed to be disengaged. Dominic hadn’t given me specifics, but I assumed they were spells that stopped shifters shifting, prevented vampires zoning, nullified magic abilities, inhibited preternatural strength, and bound prisoners to the cell. Two spells were missing; I wasn’t sure what they were needed for. Examining the markings on my finger again, I wondered if the other two were overlapping spells. Or I might not know what the hell I was doing, which was likely the most accurate possibility. I was still examining the markings when Dominic walked in.
“I would consider it a work of beauty if I didn’t know its purpose,” he said.
I wouldn’t go that far. It was unique and definitely a conversation starter, but not a work of beauty. Obviously, my views were biased.
Dominic looked at the notepad on the table with curiosity. My scribblings of words were in languages I wasn’t familiar with, and I had spread books out on the table.
“I got started,” I told him, keeping my eyes on my work. If I’d looked at him, it would reignite my anger that he might be the person who tampered with Reginald’s memories. That anger would just distract me. Stay focused and don’t deviate.
“As I expected you would,” he provided in a crisp voice. Feeling the weight of his eyes on me, I flicked a look at him and returned to sorting the spells from the book I was working on. His baleful indomitable presence added a heaviness to the room that poked at my flight response. Working and shooting him furtive glances made productive work impossible. Even when he’d moved to the other side of the table, his presence couldn’t be ignored.
“Luna.” Command rasped in his voice.
I ignored him. He called me again; it demanded compliance. Something I wouldn’t give. The stony silence continued, until I finally succumbed to it. My eyes locked with his.
“What the fuck did you do to Reginald!”
I was the only one surprised by my outburst. We watched each other with mutual skepticism.
“It needed to be done,” he said, his tone cool and his expression flat.
Did it? It wasn’t for Reginald’s safety; it was for theirs. “Did you compel him to forget, like vampires, or manipulate his memories?”
He nodded. “I can’t compel people, only vampires can. Manipulating memories is close.”
“Can you do it from just a look, like the vampires?”
His head barely moved into the nod but his eyes showed knowledge. I was sure Anand had told him about my run-in with Kane.
“Anand said I should gouge a vampire’s eyes out if they try to get me to look them in the eyes. What should I do to you?”
Moistening his lips, he fixed me with a roguish smile. “What would you like to do to me, Luna?” There was nothing innocent about his insinuating words or the look he gave me.
Heat ran up my neck and over my cheeks. I dropped my head to look at my book and hopefully hide my flush. If the warmth radiating on my face was any indicator, I wouldn’t be able to hide the strawberry coloring.
His eyes were heavy and inquiring, making it difficult to return to the work in front of me. Redirect. Discover what is necessary to survive in this world. I got this. I repeated it over and over with no success because I was drowning and there wasn’t anyone to throw me a lifeline.
“What do you think is happening?” Dominic’s grave voice splintered the silence.
I didn’t have an answer.
“Supernaturals have been living among humans for as long as humans have existed. But they do so with the agreement to stay hidden. It works to the benefit of all involved, but know that not everyone is happy about it. There are supernaturals who want to awaken the world to all that exists. They want to be known, to eventually have power. There aren’t many and they are so inconsequential, they were regarded as just a fringe group. An insipid cult.”
“The markings on the book,” I guessed.
He nodded. “That’s their mark. Fifty years ago, some supernaturals wanted the Awakening. Everything that is hidden to be brought into plain sight. The Conventicle is the ruling body of the supernaturals and represents the supernatural community. Staying hidden was decided upon. What is best? The Conventicle and I work together to make it so. You met the representatives, but the Conventicle comprises one hundred and twenty members. Awakeners are dissenters, believers of the Awakening. In the past they were a simple nuisance and were managed rather easily. Once in a while, there’s a revival when new, ambitious members join.”
Annoyance showed on his face. “The Conventicle is efficient and ruthless about maintaining their anonymity and dealing with the Awakeners. I assure you, manipulating Reginald’s and his coven’s memories was the most humane thing. It wasn’t what the Conventicle wanted for them… for you. They wanted a permanent solution for all involved.” He’d halted at the word ‘coven.” Accustomed to dealing with actual witches and covens, it had to seem blasphemous putting Reginald and his friends in the same category.
Swallowing, I got a handle on my agitation. Why were the options they chose permanent? Did death always have to be the answer?
“I suspect the Dark Caster is part of the Awakening movement or will eventually become part of it. There’s no doubt that the supernaturals you released will join as well. They were reckless for the sheer enjoyment of it, but it was also their unsubtle way of being discovered. If their existence becomes known, it will open up speculation that there are more out there. Although most supernaturals follow the way of the Conventicle, in any group there are those who are opportunistic or complicit. It’s the opportunists that concern me. They will latch on to whichever side they believe will be the victor. If the Awakeners are a viable movement, then this will be a problem. I’m not just trying to retrieve the prisoners and discover the Caster; I’m preventing a war.”
This wasn’t about altruism. If the supernaturals were discovered, he would be, too. There were benefits to anonymity.
“So, there’s an agreement between you and the Conventicle. That’s why you warned them about the prisoners, right?”
He didn’t respond. I looked up to find him scrutinizing me with suspicion.
There was honor among thieves, killers, or whatever the hell type of reprobates they were. It meant he honored agreements. Whatever oath bound him to the Conventicle, I needed that extended to my friends and family. Protect them the way he protected the Conventicle, despite them clearly loathing each other.
“We have a binding agreement.” Suspicion was heavy in his tone. “What is it you’re hinting at, Little Luna?” His full lips tightened into a rueful line. A stony expression and fierce intensity replaced his previously amiable demeanor. He relaxed back in the chair, his fingers clasped behind his head, causing his slim-cut hunter-green shirt to conform to the muscles of his chest and stomach. The folded sleeves revealed the taut muscles of his tattooed forearms. The muscles bulged and relaxed with the most minor movement.
“I want you to agree that my friends and family will be protected.”
&nb
sp; “Only Reginald and his coven were involved, correct?”
I nodded, happy that I hadn’t disclosed everything to Emoni. He was looking past me at the new bookcases with a look of contemplation.
“He won’t agree,” Helena provided as she entered the room. She leaned down, wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. Pressing her face against his, she gave me a full view of her cleavage in her slinky low-cut maxi dress. As it had before, her attire made everyone, including Dominic, look underdressed. Her presence unsettled the room. A shift that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was as if her presence caused the room to recoil.
Even if she wished to, I doubted she could go unnoticed. I considered Anand’s beauty quiet, whereas hers was flamboyant, intrusive. From the smoldering dark liner that highlighted her intense amber eyes, the bone structure that was carved to striking precision, the supple lips that formed a resting pout, to her wardrobe, everything demanded attention and required appreciation. I wasn’t in the mood for either.
“Eventually you will become collateral damage,” she cooed. Her tongue made a ticking sound like a clock counting down.
I held her gaze, refusing to let her rattle me. She peddled in fear and threats, and I wouldn’t give her that. Her taunting smile widened as she stood, keeping an attentive hand on Dominic’s shoulder.
“Perhaps it will be Dominic or someone in the Conventicle. Fear breeds betrayal. I wonder which one will sacrifice their life to take yours?” She looked delighted at the prospect.
The casualness of her words and her aloofness ignited a terror in me. But instead of prompting me to retreat, it triggered me to fend it off.
“Just what my day needed, commentary from Underworld Barbie complete with tacky Seductress of the Night wardrobe.”
Dominic fought against a smile.
Her sharp gaze was fixed on me as she spoke to Dominic. “You find her entertaining. That surely can’t be the reason she’s still alive. Is it, brother?”
“Helena,” he warned. “You are not part of this.”
“But I will be affected. I have just as much say in this as you do.”
“Perhaps, but you can’t get involved. Nor will you. This will serve as your last reminder.”
“It is part of your doing that I can’t be involved,” she pushed out through clenched teeth.
“I think you have yourself to blame for that. You were never able to abide by any established rules or basic tenets of diplomacy,” he chastised.
“Penalized for making those remorseful of their bad deeds.” She pulled her eyes from me and looked at him. With a dramatic flick of her hand, she waved his comment away as inconsequential. “How am I the villain in this story?” Her lips pushed out into a moue. “I’ve honed my skills whereas yours have become dull from disuse.”
Helena trapped me in her gaze, granite hard and hinting at unspeakable violence. “Disuse doesn’t make you strong, brother. It makes you vulnerable.”
Moving with the fluidity of water and the speed of striking lightning, she was behind me with a hand wrapped around my throat. Not in the gentle way she had before, as if lulling me into complacency about my death. This time it was an iron grip. Her face sidled up near mine, her breath warm against my skin.
“Dominic, I understand your desire to play the long game and to find the culprit responsible for the prisoners’ release. But the longer the prisoners are gone, the more havoc they will wreak. You believe diplomacy is the answer, but I can assure you the right choice is violence. Make it known that they cannot ignore us without consequences. Those who want the Awakening—we’ll find them. The two of us. Eliminate people even tangentially involved. Destroy the movement in a mighty show of violence. If anyone dares revive it, we destroy it in its infancy. Every. Time. We’ll make them fear the very word. Silence it and the movement.” The anticipation of violence put a musical note of excitement in her voice.
“Helena,” he cautioned in a low rumble. My breath caught as I watched his expression go flat. I wasn’t sure if this was a battle of wills or wit. Was it a zero-sum game?
“Not just a long game,” I said in a steady, even voice in an attempt to deescalate her anger. Her hold on my throat tightened and I eked my words out in a low whisper. “Violence won’t do you any good. If you don’t find the Caster, this will happen again. Violence can’t be the answer every time it happens.”
“Dominic,” she coaxed. “One act, and the prisoners will be returned. We can make better use of our time by finding this Caster. And then we will make them pay for forcing you to coddle this human.” Her voice hardened. “You are showing weakness now. Weakness that will not serve you well in the future.”
A medley of anger, frustration, and disgust replaced my calm. The callousness and arrogance of this woman to lament my life as being inconsequential while she attempted to convince him to kill me. The sheer disdain in her voice as she said the word “human.” Less than bugs, squashed under her feet at a whim. I hated the insufferable bitch.
My fist smashed into her nose.
She gasped, releasing me and stumbling back, covering her nose. Grabbing the thick magic book off the table, I smacked it across the left side of her face, then the right. Before she could recover, I drove it into her neck, pushing her back against the wall, where I pinned her. The pressure of the book against her throat was enough to make breathing difficult.
“This is the second fucking time you’ve threatened my life,” I ground out through clenched teeth. “This will be the last.”
Fire blazed in her amber eyes as she drew back her lips, baring her teeth like an animal prepared to fight to the death.
“Human girl,” she drawled in a low, oxygen-restricted husky voice. “Do you believe you are a match for me?” Pain shot into my stomach at her touch. The sharp retaliation of magic sent me flying across the room and slamming into the bookcase. I slumped against it as books rained down. Tears sprang to my eyes from the piercing pain. I fought them back, refusing to give her the satisfaction of me crying. I hoisted myself upright. She straightened. Golden light skated around her fingers.
Dominic’s flash of movement placed him directly in front of Helena, shielding me from her. He reached for her hand and his low voice carried throughout the room as he extinguished her magic.
“Helena.” The razor edge of his voice snapped her eyes from me to him. “You started it and are quite deserving of her retaliation.”
“Yes, I started it and I have every intention to finishing it, Dominic.” No more cloying affection in the way she addressed him. It held the sharpness of a machete. Anger pulsed in every syllable. “Don’t let her be an issue between us.”
“It is not one because I have spoken.” His tone was stern, his command absolute.
A slow, wintry smile curved her lips. “It seems that you believe your control as the guardian of the Perils extends to me. Brother, you are mistaken.”
He shook his head. “I believe no such thing, Helena. I know you well. Any attempt to control you is a foolish endeavor. I’m no fool nor do I waste my time with pointless tasks.”
That was a troubling thought. Not even he could stop her? He promised my safety but how effective would he be against his sister?
“I want her unharmed.” There was that unspoken “for now” that laced his words. “My objectives are no concern of yours. Stay out of this. Don’t force my hand and make you honor my request.” The threat lingered in the air.
Any sibling congeniality had been stripped away. Before me were just two magically powerful people grappling for dominance. I eased away from them, placing myself in a position where I could keep a careful eye on them both.
Helena’s cold smile turned warm and honey sweet. “I do hate when we fight.” She pressed her palm to Dominic’s face before turning for the door. Dagger-sharp claws formed on her fingers and before I could shriek out a warning, they slashed across his face. Other than the quick jerk of his head, there was no other reaction. If it hurt, he di
d a hell of a job hiding it.
“I’m sure you do as well,” she said tenderly before leaving the room.
If she’d do that to her brother, I had no intention of finding out what she’d do to me.
Rushing over to the table, I plopped my bag on it and started loading it, stuffing in as many of the books we hadn’t gone through that would fit.
“Take me home,” I demanded. “I’ll do the research there.” Fueled strictly by blinding anger, fear, and frustration, I didn’t wait for a response before heading for the door. If he didn’t follow, screw him. I’d track down Anand and ask him—plead, if necessary—to take me home.
I was met with a force so strong it rebounded me back several feet. I rushed to the door again, pushing into it with greater force, but it returned the favor, sending me sprawling to the floor.
“The books cannot leave this room,” Dominic said, his tone indifferent.
I whipped around to face him. “Find a way to make it so,” I demanded. “Because I can’t to stay here.”
He sighed. “You aren’t at any risk of harm.”
“Really!” I stood and jabbed my finger at his clawed face. The pads of his fingers ran lightly over the gashes, closing them and removing the crimson lines of blood. When the healing was complete, there was no sign that his sister had mauled him. How many times had he healed injuries inflicted by her?
I sagged against the wall. No matter how many slow, measured breaths I took, I couldn’t get a handle on the panic. Nailah easing into the room, breaking some of the tension, was the closest thing I was going to get to calm. At the sight of me, her violet eyes turned a gentle earthy brown that complemented her appearance. Watching someone’s eyes change in a matter of seconds paled in comparison to the unsettling things I’d already encountered.
A Touch of Brimstone (Magic of the Damned Book 1) Page 11