Reckless Witch: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Illumina Academy Book 1)

by Tarah Scott

  “What really happened with my grandmother?” I hope to surprise one of them into an answer.

  No one replies.

  “Don’t play coy,” I say.

  “Miriam died while practicing Shadow magic,” Raith says.

  I hate that overconfident voice. Worse, I hate how it glides over my flesh like velvet, leaving a trail of gooseflesh, even when he says things I despise.

  “Sounds cut and dried,” I say.

  “It is,” he replies.

  “Why allow Zadkeil to be a part of an Illumina investigation?”

  “It’s not the first time the Illumina has worked with angels,” Ethan says.

  I grunt. “Then the Illumina hasn’t learned its lesson. Angels can’t be trusted.”

  “They have a vested interest in keeping the Hell Gates sealed,” Ethan says.

  Hell Gates?

  “None of this is your concern,” Raith says.

  I hit the brakes and veer off onto the shoulder, then shove the car into park and face him. “She was my grandmother.”

  “Your duty—”

  “My duty? Don’t you fucking lecture me about duty,” I snap.

  Raith’s brows shoot up.

  “My duty is to my family. Everything else is secondary.” It’s bullshit. I have no family—blood family, that is. But I’m not letting them in on that juicy secret.

  No one answers.

  “Grams was no black witch. She would never summon Shadows.”

  Ariel’s words blare in memory, “You know where they got those Shadows Miss Mack showed in class, don’t you?”

  “We all know,” Thomas had said. “They came from Crowe Potionary.”

  “You can’t say she summoned Shadows,” I say with a jab of my finger in Raith’s chest, but their silence tells me they can and do.

  I put the car in drive and pull off the shoulder. “Is it true that the Shadow husks Miss Mack showed us are from Grams’ house?”

  “Yes,” Blade says without hesitation.

  The words are laced with kindness and I detect no deceit. Oh God, I might embarrass myself and cry. “Who told you that?” I whisper.

  “Leilah…” he begins.

  “No,” I cut in. “Answer the question.”

  A moment of silence passes, then he says, “The Illumina watched her for a year.”

  “A year?” I blurt. My heart pounds.

  “The Watchmen detected dark magic,” he said. “It wasn’t consistent. They weren’t a hundred percent certain. Then came an explosion in the basement. They immediately detected dark magic and…Shadows. They investigated and found a hole in the floor.”

  “Her body?” I whisper.

  I discern the shake of his head in the mirror.

  “Who the hell is buried in that grave at Westwood?”

  “No one,” Raith says.

  I grip the wheel tighter and force myself not to slam my foot down on the accelerator. “So, you don’t really know what happened.”

  Another heartbeat of silence passes and I know I’m wrong—again.

  “The three of us dealt with The Shadows in Miriam’s house,” Raith says.

  Liar! my mind screams. Grams stood for everything the opposite of darkness. My mind races. I have a thousand questions.

  How can you tell such terrible lies?

  Why would you tell such terrible lies?

  Angels teaming up with the Illumina? Are you crazy?

  Shadow husks in her—my—home?

  You don’t know my grandmother.

  Fucking Shadows. If they didn’t exist, Margidda wouldn’t have been nearly annihilated, magic wouldn’t be regulated, and we wouldn’t be in this fucking situation.

  We drive in silence for a long moment, then I say to Raith, “You defeated The Shadows in the final battle.”

  He doesn’t reply. I look at Ethan in the rearview mirror. “You were there, too. The two of you together.” Before he can answer, a thought strikes, and I add, “You too, Blade. Miss Mack called you Commander, but I didn’t know you were there. Why?”

  “Because my part was more…covert,” he replies.

  “What did you do?”

  Ethan’s gaze snaps onto Blade, and Blade says, “It’s best you don’t know.”

  “How did The Shadow war begin?” I ask.

  “People began to disappear,” Ethan says. “When they returned, they were…different. But not all who changed left. We don’t know where those that left went to.” He pauses. “None of them are alive to tell us.”

  A chill slides down my spine. “Miss Mack says you beat The Shadows with trust and love projected through a lucid dream.”

  The same embarrassment that washed over me in class does so now. Love and trust? From birth, we’re taught meditation and earth magic as protection against The Shadows. I hadn’t thought of it before, but I now wonder why we weren’t taught exactly how The Commanders beat The Shadows. Shouldn’t that knowledge be standard teaching, as well?

  “How can you defeat pure evil with trust and love? I mean, that part about meditating to center yourself. Sure, we’re taught that from childhood—we’re taught almost everything Miss Mack shared in Reaping Preparedness from the time we’re babies. But killing while inside a dream? That’s science fiction.”

  A look passes between Blade and Ethan.

  My third chakra tightens in my solar plexus. Raith has a secret. I glance at him. He’s not telling me everything that happened when they defeated the Shadows. But that’s not his only secret—not his big secret—I realize.

  I slow for a stop sign, glance both ways, then accelerate through the intersection. “I know there’s more to the story than the drivel Miss Mack taught us in class.”

  “That drivel may save your life one day,” Raith says.

  I cast him a sideways glare as I maneuver another curve. “How did you drive them away?”

  “We put a stop to all magic,” Raith says.

  “Buffalo chips,” I mutter.

  A weird silence descends.

  “Buffalo chips?” Blade repeats.

  I wince. I’ve probably just lost any ground I might have made in convincing them I’m a no-nonsense badass.

  “There’s no fucking way you eradicated all magic,” I say. “That’s simply impossible. Hell, the crime bosses’ use of black magic would have fed The Shadows’ hunger.”

  Raith turns his steely gaze onto me. “You know nothing.”

  “I know that, at four, my magic had a life of its own.” Which is likely why Grams sent me away from the age of two to four. She didn’t want me near the big city where The Shadows ran rampant. Many in the bigger cities sent their young away.

  Raith stares through the windshield. “That flow of magic fed The Shadows.”

  I blink. “Are you saying I’m responsible for The Shadows’ attack?”

  “He’s saying that even innocent magic fuels The Shadows,” Ethan says.

  I shake my head. “Uh uh. He said that I contributed to The Shadows’ reign of death. I assume, then, that you stifled your own magic. How very clever of you to have saved Margidda without magic.” The Academy’s turrets come into view above distant trees. “Magic is practiced every day. What’s stopping The Shadows from returning?” I ask.

  “Enough,” Raith growls. “You’re too young and inexperienced to have an opinion on how to deal with The Shadows.”

  “Isn’t that why I’m here?”

  “You’re here to learn what we teach you.”

  “Blade and Ethan don’t agree with you.”

  “Raith is right,” Blade says, and I’m disconcerted by a wave of betrayal.

  “I assume when you spoke with Headmaster Domini, he didn’t explain that breaking curfew means you aren’t allowed to leave school grounds without permission,” Raith says.

  “This isn’t high school and I’m not a prisoner,” I snap.

  “Then why did you sneak out?” his tone remains steady.

  “To avoid a conflict like
this. What the hell is really going on?” I demand. Everyone knows that once a High Potential is drafted into The Academy, their lives aren’t their own, but I had never given that much thought. “Are we prisoners?”

  “You are aware that everyone in Margidda has to attend magic school. High Potentials attend an Academy. It’s the law.”

  “Sure,” I say. “But—”

  “But nothing,” he cuts in. “You think anyone can be trained without rules? You think people learn discipline when discipline isn’t imposed or enforced? Do you think untrained High Potentials are ready for a Shadow attack?”

  “There are over two thousand years between Shadow Wars. I think—”

  “You don’t think,” he cut in.

  “Fuck you,” I mutter, then clamp my mouth shut.

  Thankfully, we reach The Academy, and I’ll soon be freed from the prison of this car. The gates swing open as they did that first day. Two minutes later, I park behind Penncarrow Hall, cut the engine and bolt from the McLaren. I reach my room, probably before the last man has time to leave the car and slam his door.

  Again, I spend a sleepless night. Images of Grams’ house keep replaying in my head. What happened that I can now see it? Who was the man inside her house? Was the demon part of his act or was it after him? Few are strong enough to conjure a demon.

  How did Stony find Grams’ house? That pig—

  “Howler night pig,” I murmur.

  I should have argued harder and stayed at the house.

  I groan and flip from my left to my right side. Why did The Three—as I’ve come to call them—drag me back to school? The biggest question of all: what do The Three know about Grams’ death that they’re not telling me?

  It isn’t possible that Shadow husks were found in her house.

  Just like it wasn’t possible for a demon to enter that house?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ETHAN

  Death, you bitch

  I didn’t sleep well after getting Leilah back to The Academy.

  I haven’t slept well since she reentered our lives. I won’t sleep well until she’s lying in bed beside me, or, at least, beside Raith or Blade.

  Thunderous clouds blanket the early afternoon sky. I leave Raith’s office, stuff my hands into the pockets of my hoodie and dash along the walkway toward the east sparring gym. I want to get back to Miriam Crowe’s house and nose around. That Thol’guk didn’t arrive there by accident. No one lives in the house, and no one could have known Leilah was going there. Yet, she’s the most likely target. Which means someone is watching her. Raith and Blade agree, and we would all like to know who that someone is.

  I arrive at the sparring gym ten minutes later to find a dozen students paired up, sparring, while another six take turns with the Teacher’s Assistant. The clash of steel and the thud of hardwood bo staffs fill the air. Martial arts is the only subject I teach and, I must admit, I love seeing the students grow in patience and skill.

  I pull off my hoodie, toss it onto the floor near the wall, then motion the TA off the mat. Billy Mills, a young shifter with great promise, takes the mat. He’s talented and, once he matures, he’ll go far. Like many males his age, his biggest vulnerability is the belief that he’s indestructible.

  In the corner of my eye, I glimpse Leilah enter the far door. Billy rushes me. I nimbly step aside and whirl to face him. What’s Leilah doing here? She wasn’t assigned this class. Billy spins. I recognize embarrassment in his eyes.

  “Remember,” I tell him, “emotions have no place in battle.”

  He circles me, embarrassment still swirling in his eyes.

  “Come on, Billy,” Preston Phillips calls, “show Teach what you’re made of.”

  I don’t reply. The students know better than to heckle or encourage their fellow classmates during sparring. I’ll deal with Preston when his turn comes. This is hand to hand combat, but I’m tempted to pull one of the bo staffs from the wall and give Preston’s butt a memorable whack.

  Leilah leans against the wall, eyes glued to me, and I wonder whether Blade or Raith made the change in her classes. Billy rushes me and, though he knows better, I suspect he’s going to shift into wolf form. If the boy wants to play with the big dogs, I will oblige. I summon fire. My palms heat and—

  A lance spear is yanked from its wall mounting, controlled by an invisible hand. Even before the point turns toward its intended victim, I know.

  “Leilah!” I shout.

  My armor warms my flesh and my shirt rends. The silver tattoos across my body morph into hardened silver. Students shout. Billy spins toward Leilah.

  Leilah throws up her right hand, palm out, and shouts, “Deflect!”

  My sigil on her hand glows. The spear merely wobbles. Billy shifts as fire bursts from my palms. I race toward her, heart hammering. Billy passes me, his wolf form faster than my human form. Leilah lunges left.

  “Deflecto,” someone shouts.

  The spear veers right, then whips back on course toward Leilah. I throw a fireball into the spear’s path. The wood sails through a flame hot enough to melt steel. My heart thunders. Billy leaps and snaps at the spear, but his powerful jaws close around air.

  I speed past as he lands in a crouch and throw another, then another fireball, to no effect. An eopy materializes in the spear’s path. The giant ape bellows as it swipes at the spear. The point passes through its hand, then through its massive chest and the creature falls.

  Leilah starts to turn as if to run, but my youngest student leaps between her and the spear and throws up both hands. Leilah shoves him aside as she spins, throwing a lightning fast roundhouse kick at the oncoming spear. I throw another ball of flame and want to cry out in relief when her foot makes contact with the spear. The wood splits in two with a crack. The point shoots through the blaze and buries itself in the right side of Leilah’s abdomen.

  She gasps and looks down at the broken spear protruding from her body. Blood spreads in a dark stain across the hem of her t-shirt. She crumbles and I catch her before she hits the floor, dropping to my knees.

  “Back,” I shout, as students rush us.

  My vision blurs. Fate can’t be so cruel as to take Ciarah away so soon. I haven’t had a chance to stroke her face, taste her lips, show her how much I love her.

  There is never enough time to show her how much I love her.

  Her eyelids flutter. She murmurs, “It isn’t your fault.”

  I shake my head. Anger rips through me. I won’t let her die. Not this time. I surge to my feet and race toward the door.

  “Someone open the door,” I shout.

  Billy speeds past me in human form, naked. He reaches the door seconds before me, pushes through and holds the door open as I burst into the rain. Wings burst from my shoulder blades and, in three running steps, I leave the ground, Ciarah a feather in my arms.

  “Don’t you dare die,” I hiss.

  In less than a minute, I reach the instructors’ offices and land at a run. My wings retract as I hit the front door with a shoulder. I take the stairs three at a time and burst into Raith’s office, breathing heavily. He’s not at his desk.

  He doesn’t have classes at this hour. Where is he?

  “What the hell?”

  I whirl.

  Raith’s standing in the doorway that connects to his private chambers.

  “Someone attacked Ciarah,” I pant.

  Her head lolls against my chest.

  God, don’t die.

  I rush to the leather couch and lay her on the cushions. Raith reaches my side.

  “She needs your blood,” I say.

  He stares at her.

  “Raith,” I growl.

  “Maybe it’s better this way,” he whispers.

  “What?” I shout. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Life with Ciarah never ends well.”

  “Life without her is hell.” I seize his collar. “Save her or I’ll put a stake through your frozen heart.”


  His eyes meet mine. “Too late. Ciarah cut out my heart forty years ago.”

  I drive him so hard against the bookshelf that several books hit the carpet. “Give her your blood or I’ll bury you so deep no one will find you for a millennium.”

  Leilah moans. Raith’s head snaps in her direction and his pupils dilate. His gaze fixes on the wound…on her blood. I pull him over to the couch and shove him onto his knees.

  “Don’t you think this is as hard on her as it is on us?” he asks.

  Fear twists through me as I grab the broken spear and yank it from her body. She convulses. I throw the spear to the carpet. As blood gushes, I rip her t-shirt and expose the wound. Raith draws a sharp breath. He starts to rise, but I shove his face into the blood. He throws his head back and I stumble two paces before catching myself. Raith shakes his head as if he’s been drugged.

  Good.

  I grab his head and force his face into the blood. Ciarah draws a stuttered breath. I hold Raith’s mouth in the pooling blood. He relaxes in my hold and grasps her waist. When he begins sucking the blood, I drop to my knees, breathing hard.

  Blade bursts into the room. I shake my head in warning, and say, “Hand me the letter opener on the desk.”

  Blade rushes to the desk. An instant later, he slaps the handle of the letter opener into my open palm. By now, Raith is sucking hard. Just as I thought, it’s been too long since he’s fed.

  I grab his right hand and cut the vein in his wrist. He grunts but doesn’t stop drinking. I press his bleeding wrist against Ciarah’s mouth. After a second, she thrashes her head aside and loses contact with Raith’s wrist.

  “Blade,” I call.

  Blade grabs her head and holds it still as I force the bleeding wrist against her blood-smeared lips. She grimaces, but closes her mouth around the wound. I shift my attention to Raith. He has sunk his fangs into her abdomen. The wound no longer gushes blood. I release Ciarah and straighten.

  Now we wait to see if Raith saves her…or kills her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  RAITH

  Blood