by Tarah Scott
I trace a finger across the page, then snatch my hand back. Had Grams hated me so much that she couldn’t bear to enter the room long enough to clear out my things? Tears sting the corners of my eyes. I swipe at one eye. No way am I going to cry. I’m done crying over a woman who didn’t want me. I whirl to leave, but halt at the unexpected surge of magic emanating from the book.
I take a faltering step back. What the fuck? I stare for a long moment. Then, slowly, I reach out with my magic. The sigil on my hand flares with a fierce heat. I snap my eyes onto the sigil. My heart begins to pound. The sigil didn’t heat that quickly even when I called forth those weird shadow balls to battle the green demon.
I look back at the chemistry book, take a careful step closer and ease two fingers back onto the open page. A tingle races up my arm. I tense, but nothing bad happens. Careful to keep the book open, I lift it from the desk and examine the covers. Nothing strange there, despite the pulse of magic still emanating from the book.
Damnit, I wish Stony were here. I lower myself onto the desk chair, set the book down, then turn the next page, then the next and the next before I realize the magic is waning. Waning, but still present. I flip back to the previous page and the one before that. Yes, there’s no doubt, the magic is increasing as I turn toward the front of the book.
I slip a finger between half the pages and lay them on the right side of the book. Magic fairly leaps off the page. My stomach roils. Something is wrong, very, very wrong. With shaking hands, I flip the remainder of the pages to the right so that I’m looking at the title page. Magic dances across the page in thin, translucent ribbons of black energy.
What in God’s name is this?
I lift a trembling hand and tap my fingertips to the page. A shock rips through me. A shriek rends the silence and I leap to my feet, knocking the chair over. The book spins and I cry out when the textbook morphs into a leather-bound journal much like—
I gasp. It can’t be. Grams kept a journal like the one now lying on my desk in place of the chem textbook. This one appears worn, but not as worn as the one Grams kept.
I force my legs to move, right the chair and, once again, sit down at the desk. I no longer sense the enchantment that had cloaked my chemistry textbook. This has to be a spell book, right? But why would Grams hide a spell book in such an elaborate fashion? She guarded her potion recipes, as they were her largest source of income, but, at the same time, she often shared her recipes with people she felt would use them wisely. I’d never known her to go to such great lengths to hide, well, anything.
My heart takes a dive. I guess Detective Mills was right. People change.
I open the book and find the words written in an ancient language I don’t recognize. Disappointment stabs. I flip through the book. A quarter of the book is filled, all written in that strange language. No doubt, not a real language, but a code created by a spell. Fuck. I glance over my shoulder at the window. Orange and grey clouds streak the sky. Dusk is falling. It’ll be dark soon. I took a risk coming here after I left the police station, but I had wanted badly to see Stony.
Stony.
Where the hell is that pig? I snatch up the book and head for Grams’ bedroom. If Stony were here, she would have sensed what happened in my room and come running.
As suspected, she’s not in Grams’ room or the guest bedroom. Fear tightens my stomach. Easy, I tell myself. Stony is anything but helpless. She can shift at will, and she’s a ferocious warrior. My heart warms when I recall how she took on the Thol’guk. She really is my best friend.
I hurry back to the kitchen and pull open the drawer where Grams always kept paper and pencil. I ignore the surge of loneliness the familiar sight elicits and pull out one of the small pads and a pencil. I jot a quick note to Stony, telling her I had been by and promising to return as soon as possible, then attach the note to the fridge with a refrigerator magnet.
Chapter Thirty-Two
LEILAH
Intruder Alert
Forty minutes later, I direct my Lyft driver to pull off the road a quarter mile from The Academy. The driver does as I ask, but gives me a doubtful look as I pay him and get out in what he clearly thinks is the middle of nowhere in the dark. He pulls away and I head toward The Academy, Grams’ spell book safely tucked into my jeans’ waistband at my back.
I reach The Academy wall in five minutes and drop noiselessly onto the other side. It’s dinnertime, so most students are in the dining hall. That’s not to my advantage. The Academy doesn’t treat the kids quite like public high school students, but it’s far easier to pass unnoticed in a crowd. It would be just my luck to get spotted by one of The Three or by a damned Watchman.
I scurry through the trees, then break out onto the walkway when no one is in sight. On the walkway, I slow to a stroll. Better to appear casual than like a person trying to hide something. If I’m stopped, the worst I’ll be accused of is taking a walk—well, that and breaking out of a spell-bound room.
I reach the dorm and slip inside my darkened room. If I play my cards right, I can come and go as I please and no one will be the wiser. I turn, lean against the door, and release a breath. The aroma of food wafts to me. My jailer must’ve left dinner on my desk and then left, thinking I was sleeping beneath the covers where I’d stuffed the pillows. I’m a little surprised that he didn’t notice the spell no longer surrounds my room. Maybe Raith sent a minion to deliver the food. This arrangement might work out.
My stomach growls. The food at The Academy is excellent and I’m hungry. I push away from the door and pull my t-shirt over my head as I head for the desk. I toss the shirt onto the chair to the right of the desk as I reach for the cover of the food, then freeze.
I’m not alone.
My heart pounds. Blade’s magic is supposed to keep me from leaving and prevent others—my would-be killer, for instance—from entering.
I grit my teeth and throw out my senses in an effort to draw a bead on the intruder’s whereabouts. The sigil heats with unexpected intensity, but not before I realize he’s to my left. I whirl, throwing my leg high for a roundhouse kick. Strong fingers seize my ankle and yank. I topple backwards onto the bed, yank my legs up, and encircle my assailant’s waist. When I tighten my legs with all my might, he gives an audible woof as air rushes from his lungs.
Gotcha! I think, and twist.
He grunts and goes down, but not as I expect. His heavy body falls on me the way a one-ton bull crashes to the ground. The breath rushes out of me and I wheeze while reaching for my magic. The sigil heats to singe level and I can’t halt a cry.
“If you think distracting me with your body will keep you out of trouble…”
I recognize Blade’s voice and freeze.
“Well, you might distract me,” he continues. “But trouble will still follow.”
I’m suddenly aware of every hard plane of his muscled chest against my nearly bare torso. Then there’s the erection that’s digging into my abdomen.
“What the fuck?” My protest comes out a hoarse whisper that sounds sexy.
“My sentiments exactly,” he says, though his voice doesn’t hold the sensual note it usually does.
“What are you doing creeping into my room?” I demand.
“You’re the one who snuck out,” he replies.
I try to draw a deep breath, but he’s damned heavy and is making no effort to lift his body off mine.
“You locked me in my room like a child,” I growl.
“Because you refuse to act like an adult. Bloody hell, Leilah, just two days ago someone tried to kill you. If you won’t take the threat seriously, I will lock you in a cage that you—or Jonas—can’t escape.”
“It’s not his fault,” I blurt.
“I have already dealt with the boy.”
“Dealt with him? How?” I demand.
“That is none of your concern.”
“I tricked him,” I say.
“That’s not his story.”
“H
e’s a good kid. He doesn’t want to see me get into trouble.”
“Trouble?” Blade says in a dark voice that freezes the blood in my veins. “You have no comprehension of the trouble you’re in. Have you any idea how I felt when I found your room empty?”
I roll my eyes. “Sorry I pissed you off. I imagine you told Raith.”
“And Ethan,” he says. “We aren’t playing games, Leilah.”
The heat of anger flashes. “You think I’m playing games?”
“You bloody well don’t understand the stakes.”
“The stakes are your, Ethan’s and Raith’s pride,” I snap.
“Foolish girl,” he mutters.
In the dark, I can’t discern his expression, and I’m damn glad he can’t see mine, which is hot with embarrassment, but his gaze burns into me. To my knowledge, the Fae, unlike vampires, don’t have a particular ability to see in the dark. I don’t need eyes to see the erection that grows harder by the minute. I wonder if I might distract him. I wiggle suggestively.
“Lie still, Leilah,” he growls.
I wiggle again. He sucks in a harsh breath and I know I have him. I arch my hips and grind against his hard cock. My clit tightens almost painfully. God have mercy.
“Bloody wench,” Blade mutters, and pushes off me.
I lever myself onto my elbows. “I thought you were more fun than this, Blade.”
“This time, the spell around your room will be invincible,” he says.
I jump to my feet. “I have the right to help search for the person who tried to kill me.”
He gives a low laugh that makes my stomach do somersaults. “Sorry, love, but you don’t.”
“I didn’t come here to be locked up in a fucking room.” I grab his arm. “You can bet your ass I’ll find a way out.”
He grabs my shoulders and shakes me—hard. “We’re not going to lose you, you understand?” He adds something under his breath that sounds like, “It’s too soon.”
Now, I’m going crazy.
He shoves me toward the bed and says, “The last thing you want to do is to piss off Raith. You think being confined to this room is harsh… You truly get Raith’s ire up and you’ll wish the only thing we had done was lock you in this room.”
“You’re crazy,” I whisper.
He snorts. “In that, we are agreed. I must let Ethan know you’re home.”
“Home?” I scoff, and ignore the longing the word elicits. “You call being locked in a room home?”
“I call being surrounded by people who love you ‘home.’” The words are spoken in a level tone, but naked fear drips from his voice.
Then I understand.
“Who was she?” I ask.
“She?” he repeats.
“The woman you lost.”
A heavy silence follows. Yeah, I hit pay dirt. I remind Blade of someone he loved—and lost.
“Whatever happened, this isn’t the same,” I say. “I can take care of myself.”
“The way you took care of yourself when you nearly bled to death on Raith’s couch?”
I shrug. “Everyone has a bad day.”
“We will not risk you being harmed,” Blade says.
“You can’t keep me here indefinitely.”
“Don’t be too sure of that.”
I let a moment of silence pass, then say, “I’m hampered by this damn sigil, and you know it.”
He releases a breath. “Without it, you won’t return.”
“I returned today.”
“Don’t insult my intelligence,” he says in a weary voice. “We both know that the sigil would have forced you back.”
So that’s how it works.
“Exactly where were you?” he asks.
“What if I promise not to run away?” I say, instead of answering his question.
Silence stretches out.
“A promise won’t stop you from pulling stunts like you did today,” he finally says.
“We can work something out,” I say. “One thing that will help is Stony. She can take any shape I need her to.” I don’t mention that she won’t like it.
“The howling night pig might be a good idea,” he says. “She would have to remain small. A mouse, perhaps.”
“And the sigil?” I wince at the hopeful note in my voice.
He starts for the door and my heart falls.
The doorknob jiggles and he says, “It would have to be a blood pact.”
Blood pact? I shiver. Blood packs are virtually invincible, and they bind the partners together for…well, life.
“That’s overkill, don’t you think?” I say.
“Overkill? You nearly died right in front of us.”
Fucking Fae. They’re too damn smart.
“Draw up the agreement,” I say. “Keep it simple. You three don’t own me.”
His low laugh drifts to me in the shadows. “There’s never been the slightest confusion on who owns who, love.”
Without another word, he leaves me wondering if he has a brain tumor or something. The guy is off his gourd.
Chapter Thirty-Three
BLADE
Reckless Witches
It is strange how one forgets pain. It’s been forty years since we lost Ciarah. Her near-death two days ago frightened me. Somehow, finding her room empty frightened me even more.
I draw in a deep breath of the cold winter night air and slow my walk across campus as I pull my cellphone from my back pocket. One tap unlocks the screen, a second strikes the number two. Ethan’s name appears on the screen and I press the phone to my ear.
He answers before the second ring and demands, “Have you found her?”
“She returned to her room,” I reply.
“It’s time we tell her the truth.”
“What?” I blurt, then smile at two passing male students. I wait until I’m out of earshot then say, “You’ve gone mad, Ethan.”
“No,” his reply is calm. “She’s different this time.”
“Did you expect her to stay the same?”
“You know what I mean.”
I do, and it frightens me. “She always dies young.” Pain flashes through me as I voice that truth and it takes all my willpower not to return to her room and make love to her until she swears not to leave again. I halt. Might that work? I picture her dark hair fanned out around her face, dark eyes locked with mine as I drive into her so deep I touch her soul.
Several beats of silence pass as I walk. Then Ethan says, “I’m afraid, too.”
I jar from the image, my cock so hard I have to grit my teeth. A moment passes before I can say, “We’re always afraid.”
“She barely knows us,” I say. “There’s not a chance in hell she’ll believe that we’ve known her for centuries. She hates Raith, and you’ve managed to piss her off by marking her with your sigil. As her jailer, I’m now on her shit list. We’re the last people she’ll believe are centuries-long lovers.”
“If we tell her, she might remember something that will help us understand why we need each other,” he says.
“Or we might lose her.”
He gives a low, joyless laugh. “It won’t be the first time.”
“We need to figure out who sent the Thol’guk to her grandmother’s house to kill her. That means the attack on her in your class was the second attempt on her life. Maybe the attacker isn’t a student. The magic that called forth the creature couldn’t have been more than minutes old when she arrived.”
“Someone followed her there?” he asks.
“Has to be.”
“We didn’t even know she’d left,” he says. “Who’s watching her? Someone was there with her. Any idea who?”
“Not a clue. Rebecca is back. I’m going to take the spear to her. Maybe she can glean something about the magic used on it. I couldn’t find any connection between the magic at Miriam’s house and the spear. The magic used to call forth the Thol’guk was less sophisticated. But then, I’m not the expert. Rebecca is.�
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“It’s not terribly hard to call forth a lower demon,” Ethan says. “Assign a permanent guard on Leilah’s room.”
The urgency in his voice is a sure indication that his armor is surfacing.
I halt. I told Leilah that my spell is invincible, but the girl has proven herself resourceful. I turn and head back toward her dorm.
“How soon can you get here?” I ask.
“Twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting in the hall outside her door.” I end the call and lock my gaze onto Leilah’s dormitory.
Bloody hell, what I can do to her body in twenty minutes.
Two hours later, I catch up with Raith on his walk from his afternoon class to his office. He’s looking far better than he’s looked in years. Leilah’s blood did him good. He gives me a sideways glance and keeps walking.
“I just came from Rebecca,” I say. “She said the magic used in the spear is elemental.”
He frowns. “That’s advanced magic.”
I nod. “Maybe a dozen people on campus are capable of casting such a spell. Off the top of my head, I can easily eliminate half of them.”
“Who are the remaining six?” he asks.
I rattle off a list of names—four teachers and two students.
Raith gives a single shake of his head. “What reason could any of them have for wanting to hurt Leilah?”
“I would like to say I don’t know, but it’s clear the students associate Leilah with her grandmother.”
“Not surprising,” he says. I start to reply, and he adds, “I’m not saying anyone has a right to kill her. I’m not sure that’s enough for any of these kids to commit murder. Is it possible someone breached The Academy wall?”
I want to reply with an emphatic no, but have to say, “I don’t know. The search Ethan and I made along the wall turned up no evidence that anyone—or anything—breached the wards. The attack with the Thol’guk and the spear make two attempts on her life. I have no real leads. I’ll take a look at our six obvious suspects.”