by Tarah Scott
Through the trees beyond, I see the field where we are to begin. Raith is standing with three of our generals. Seton Alexander is there. Adrenaline pumps through me. I am going to enjoy kicking his arse this year.
We reach Raith’s group and Alexander angles his head toward me. “Blade.”
“Seton,” I reply.
Raith’s eyes shift past me and his pupils dilate. I turn and my breath catches in unison with Ethan’s audible intake of air. Leilah’s dressed in brown leather with a brown quilted waistcoat. A short sword is strapped to her belt along with Japanese curved blades. She’s even braided her hair…a hairstyle she wore in the late fourteenth century when Pope John XXII issued his super illius specula authorizing the use of inquisitorial procedure against witches.
I’ve never forgotten how magnificent she was, a sword in each hand, wisps of escaped hair whipping around her face in the gale-force wind, as if the gods themselves had joined the fight. Of course, Ciarah had called that wind. She and a dozen women accused of witchcraft stood against fifty soldiers sent by the church to arrest them for heresy. The soldiers were fortunate that Ciarah was the only true witch among the accused that day.
“Fuck,” Raith says under his breath, and I know even he is remembering that day.
Leilah stares, eyes wide. Then she breaks into a run. She passes Ethan and I, and we spin as she throws herself into Alexander’s arms.
Chapter Forty-Six
ETHAN
And so it begins…
My dragon roars to life. I take a step toward Leilah.
A hand clamps down on my shoulder and I spin toward Blade. He gives a tiny shake of his head and slants his eyes toward the small stage at the far side of the field where Olympia sits on the stage overseeing the assembly.
“Not this time,” I hiss with enough heat that fire flashes from my palms.
“Look at her,” he whispers.
I hesitate. Can I bear to see Ciarah in the arms of another man, yet again?
“Look,” the Fae says in a gentle voice, and I force myself to turn.
Leilah has buried her face in Alexander’s chest. He’s stroking her hair and making soft shushing noises. This isn’t the embrace of lovers, but of sister and brother. I send a questioning look to Blade.
He shrugs. “I guess they know each other.”
“Good guess,” I say with asperity.
I look at Raith, but he just gives a tiny shake of his head.
“Anyone want to tell us what’s going on?” Blade asks in a conversational tone.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Leilah says, her face still buried in Alexander’s chest, “but I grew up with Seton.”
A sliver of relief eases the tension in my shoulders, but only a sliver. She’s not the fifteen-year-old girl who ran away. She’s a woman, and Alexander could easily fall in love with her.
She draws back and looks up at him. “What are you doing here?”
He winks. “You didn’t think you were the only High Potential in our neighborhood, did you?”
“You attend The Academy? Why didn’t you tell me? That would have made being here so much better.”
He laughs. “I graduated four years ago. Still, I didn’t know you were here until just now. I think I could bring you to task for going MIA for seven years,” his tone is airy, but I detect deep curiosity.
She gives him another tight hug, then releases him and steps back. “You’re one of the alumni here to take part in the War Games?”
He grins. “That’s right, and you’d better hope you’re on my team.”
Leilah arches a brow. “I’m a lot tougher than I was when you last saw me.”
His expression softens. “Not too tough, I hope.”
“Tough enough to kick your ass.”
Alexander looks at Raith. “I think that’s a challenge.”
“I’d say everyone is here,” Raith replies. His eyes shift past me and I turn slightly as Gabriel Carter halts beside me. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it,” Raith says.
“Traffic from Jersey was a bitch.” His gaze shifts to Leilah. “Well, who do we have here?”
“A student who needs to assemble with the rest of the students,” Raith says.
She scowls at him, then says to Alexander, “If you’re placing bets, my team’s a sure winner.”
He laughs as she starts toward a cluster of students who are unabashedly watching.
“I think I should be assigned to her team,” Carter says. “You know, in case anyone needs CPR.”
Raith surprises me by saying, “No one is going to need CPR.”
Carter’s eyebrows shoot up. “Do I detect a note of ownership?”
“What you detect is the reminder that these War Games are a helluva lot more than games,” Raith replies.
Carter’s eyes light with his signature mischief. “Of course, my lord.”
Raith openly ignores him and starts toward the eighty-plus students. I can’t take my eyes off Leilah. She looks so much like Brin as she stood against the knights sent to arrest the witches. My fire ignites and I have to will my cock not to respond. We five had been there to protect the women. To protect her. But she’d protected the women, and the air had crackled with electricity as the warriors ran for the woods, followed by nightmares that, I’m sure, haunted them to their dying days.
Raith’s voice projects over the wireless PA system as he instructs the students to open their envelopes. The tearing of paper fills the air for a long moment, then a murmur washes over the students.
“Team One, to the left,” Raith orders. “Team Two, to the right. Team Three, opposite Team One, and Team Four, opposite Team Two.”
The students shuffle until everyone is standing in the correct locations with their assigned teams. As planned, Leilah is on Team Three with Darryl Jones, a young mage with experience in our war games. It is hard knowing we’re here as observers and can’t accompany Leilah into the virtual Shadow world.
“Ethan, Blade and I will monitor your progress through the virtual Shadow world. Seton Alexander and Gabriel Carter are standing by in case of a medical emergency.”
Whoops and shouts go up. Alexander bows to the crowd. As he passes Leilah on his way toward Carter and the waiting medical kits, he waggles his eyebrows. She shakes her head but laughs.
“Our battlefield is there.” Raith points to the right of the field where a subtle shimmer is visible against the trees. “This year, we have created a virtual world that reflects a city like New York or Chicago during the Shadow War.”
A loud murmur ripples through the students. Even Carter’s brows rise in surprise. I don’t blame them. I’m still uncertain about the safety of a virtual Shadow world.
“You have each been assigned to a team that we believe will best utilize your abilities and training,” Raith says. “You are allowed to use magic when needed. But part of this training is to teach you to differentiate when you should and shouldn’t use magic. Be prepared for a Shadow attack if you do use magic.” He turns to face Team One. “Team One will guard the streets against roaming demons. Anyone in Team One know how to kill a demon?”
“You can’t kill demons,” a student, Jonathan Bennet, calls out. Jonathan lifts a silver talisman hanging from a cord around his neck. “You have to trap them in an enchanted object.”
“Very good,” Raith says.
I hear pride in his voice.
Raith shifts again. “Team Two will aid humans and Margiddians infected by The Shadows.” He pauses. “Can anyone in Team Two describe the best way to deal with humans infected by Shadows?”
“Soft earth magic,” Maggie, a young siren, calls. “Harmony, peace. Get them some place safe.”
Raith nods slowly, then faces Teams Three and Four. “Teams Three and Four will infiltrate the home of the crime lord, whose house is protected by Shadow magic. You will capture him, then break the spell he cast on his human bodyguards. Remember, it is forbidden to kill humans who are und
er a spell. Your team leaders will identify the officers in your teams and will instruct you. As each team is ready, your team leader will lead you into the war zone.”
Whoops and shouts go up—mostly from students who have been at The Academy for a year or longer. Some of the newer students turn their heads toward the shimmer, brows drawn in apprehension.
“Unlike the real world, no one can be killed in our virtual Shadow world,” Raith goes on. “At least, not by virtual inhabitants, so don’t aim at any of your fellow students.”
Laughter ripples through the students and a few “Better watch your back” and “Ooohs” filter through the murmur.
“As instructed, newer students are to stick close to their team leaders and tell them if you start feeling overwhelmed. Watchmen are stationed inside the virtual world to help keep everyone safe. We will also be watching.”
I force my attention away from Leilah and remind myself she is in no real danger.
Chapter Forty-Seven
LEILAH
Plans of mice and men…
My heart pounds as I wait in the rear of Team Three, as Team Four enters the virtual war zone ahead of us.
Seton is here. He was a student at The Academy. If ever the fates decided to bless and curse me, it’s now. I want to cry and scream at the same time. Seton, of all people, has the ability to know something is wrong in my life. If he figures out that I intend to give up magic, he will fight me tooth and nail. I must speak with Raith immediately, once the games are finished, and get my magic stripped.
The guy ahead of me disappears through the opening into the virtual world. I take a deep breath and step inside after him. The late morning sunshine cuts off behind me and I enter misty darkness. I guess the hour to be approximately two o’clock in the morning. In the distance, skyscrapers, slim and sleek, rise into a thick fog that the full moon barely penetrates. Even insects and night creatures are silent.
Ahead of us, members of Team Four melt into the darkness that surrounds the estate we’re to infiltrate. Five feet to my left, I discern the small form of Chelsea Nightlow alongside a tall boy who’s part of our team.
Darkness, the kind not seen with the eyes, presses close around me. I shiver and resist the urge to hug myself. I hadn’t thought I would see a single Shadow in my lifetime. The wisps of fear that probe my consciousness tell me this world is filled with damn good imitations of the real thing. My pulse jumps. The feeling reminds me of what I experienced when I read the words in Grams’ spell book.
I suddenly wish I was buried under my bedcovers, Stony and I watching reruns of The Big Bang Theory. I lift a hand to pat the pocket where Stony remains suspiciously quiet but stop myself. I can’t risk her being taken away. Not yet.
Darryl, our team leader, motions us forward. I wish Fran was on our team, but she’d been assigned to the demon hunting team. Our trek through the trees is almost noiseless. The rustle of leaves underfoot comes from Chelsea’s vicinity.
We reach the estate’s eight-foot-high wall, and the wards intended to keep out intruders pushes against my senses. I concentrate on light and murmur the spell created during the Shadow War to penetrate wards: “Light and love, surround me in your peace.”
Embarrassment ripples through me, but I will my pulse to remain slow and steady. Much as I want to believe this is all BS, there’s no doubt that our warriors managed to stop The Shadows from annihilating us, and I must admit to a little curiosity at trying out these easy spells even on virtual Shadows.
I twirl the index finger of my right hand in a circle and am rewarded with a subtle but strong sense of peace. I breathe deeply and ask the nature fae to lift me with their wind. I crouch and leap, landing with the barest snick of my boots on the top of the wall.
Thank you, I telepath to the unseen nature spirits, then drop to the ground on the other side.
Darryl and two other students land soundlessly to my right. To my surprise, Chelsea follows next. Darryl crouches and motions us to follow, then starts forward. I fall in behind Chelsea, who glances over her shoulder at me before she hurries ahead.
We reach a large elm and halt as two other students catch up with us. An image flashes of us walking through the door and getting mowed down by machine gun fire. My heart leaps and I realize fear is pressing against my chest like an unseen hand. Fuck. Is this Shadow fear? I shiver. Does Stony feel the darkness? I touch the pocket where she’s hiding and am comforted when my fingers discern the slight bulge.
I release a breath. Team Four will do their job and all will be well. They have to enter the mansion through a skylight on the east side of the house, then disable the security system located in the security office on the ground floor.
Half a dozen students catch up with us and Darryl leads us across a darkened expanse of lawn to a large oak close to the circle of light cast by night lamps that illuminate the house.
A minute later, the last two of our team arrive. We drop flat to the grass and I hold my breath as two guards approach along a walkway that skirts the house. They wear body armor and carry AR-15 assault rifles in addition to sidearms. Fuck, did Elijah Walker’s guards carry AR-15 assault rifles? My mouth goes dry. What if the instructors are wrong and we can be killed?
No one twitches so much as a muscle as the guards near. My heart pounds so loudly I’m sure everyone can hear. The guards are almost past us when one abruptly stops. The other swings around as the first one turns in our direction. He reaches for the small flashlight on his belt.
Movement snaps my attention right. Chelsea pushes up onto her knees and hurls two curved throwing knives so fast that the blades blur before they hit their marks. The two guards fall to the ground with so little noise it’s eerie. My heartrate jumps to a gallop.
Darryl surges to his feet and whispers, “Everyone up.”
We stand.
Darryl faces Chelsea. “Give me your remaining weapons.”
She hesitates.
“Now,” he orders.
“But the men were evil,” she whispers. “They liked being under the influence of The Shadows.”
“What?”
“I felt their love of The Shadows.”
Darryl extends a hand. Chelsea’s lips thin in rebellion, but she pulls two more throwing knives from her belt and lays them in his hand. He slides them into his knife sheathe, then motions us to follow as he hurries toward the house. The others crouch and follow Darryl. Chelsea falls in line behind me. I can’t tear my gaze from the two men and their weapons as I hurry past them. How could the authorities have allowed anyone to walk around with assault rifles? Had Elijah Walker’s men murdered Margiddians?
We reach the house and press against its stone wall. Darryl glances at his radio watch and gives a tiny nod that I hope means that Team Four has disabled the alarm system. He edges toward the side yard, peers around the corner of the house, then motions for everyone to follow and darts around the corner.
I edge around the house behind a tall guy and catch sight of Darryl at a side door, picking the lock. A wolf howls in the distance. I slow and scan the darkened lawn, searching for the source. The Academy really went all out to make this experience spooky.
I reach the other students as Darryl eases the door open. He peeks inside, then twists and motions us to follow. I enter behind the tall guy. Chelsea takes up the rear. We creep through a pantry, cross a kitchen, and enter dimly lit servants’ stairs. As I sidle past a sharp corner in the stairs, darkness, hatred and fear thicken. I recall a beautiful glade drenched in sunshine, with blue skies that go on forever. That is the place I will visit when we leave here.
Until then…
The tall guy ahead of me reaches the second floor and disappears to the right. I step from the stairs into a hallway softly lit by crystal wall sconces. I tense, startled by an unexpected intrusion of magic.
Lightning shoots up the stairwell behind me. I jerk aside as students drop to the carpet. The blinding white bolt shoots past me and ignites the wall opposit
e the stairwell. I grunt and blink my gaze into focus on my left arm. A singed black line mars my armor.
Footsteps clattering down the stairs cause me to whirl in time to see Chelsea disappear around the turn in the stairway. Shit, the kid must have gotten scared when the lightning bolt—
My thoughts shift with a horrifying realization. That lighting was conjured by magic, not the dark magic that protects this place. Chelsea’s magic.
Darryl jumps to his feet and is saying something, but the deafening hum in my ears drowns him out. I draw a sharp breath and throw out my senses, searching for The Shadows we were warned would attack if we used magic.
I lunge down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Seconds later, I leap the remaining two steps and burst into the kitchen in time to see Chelsea halfway to the pantry. In the corner of my eye, movement causes me to snap my head in that direction. A long, black ribbon of energy tangling with itself is streaming after Chelsea.
Time seems to stop. The Shadow is so damned beautiful.
The wisp shifts as if looking in my direction. I reach out a hand—
And crash into something hard—the middle island, I vaguely realize as I hit the floor shoulder first. Pain shoots down my arm. I roll and leap to my feet, panting. Chelsea has reached the pantry. I don’t see The Shadow. Oh God, has it reached her?
“You want magic, mother fucker?” I growl. “Come get me. Dragon!” I shout, and throw out a spell strong enough to choke the fucking Shadow.
A dragon half the size of a refrigerator appears. Chelsea whirls, wide eyes on the beast. Her head swings in my direction. Our eyes lock.
A blur snaps my attention left. Raith appears just as the dragon howls and exhales fire.
A wolf howls.
A flash of light blinds me.