by Tarah Scott
Chapter Forty-Eight
RAITH
Taken
I’m assigned to the southeast corner of the virtual world and to Team Four, but am watching Team Three on the tablet the surveillance cameras feed into. Leilah flanks Mason up the stairs of the crime lord’s mansion, with Chelsea Nightlow in the rear. Thus far, Leilah has followed orders.
The first students reach the second floor of the mansion and Blade’s voice announces over the radio Velcroed to my belt, “They’re doing great.”
Except Chelsea, I think, but grab the radio, depress the talk button, and say, “You’re supposed to be watching Team Two.”
“I assigned Carter to Team Two,” he replies.
I start to reply.
A lightning bolt illuminates the stairs.
Students drop to the hallway floor—except Leilah, who is hit by the bolt in a blast of light that fills the screen like the detonation of an atomic bomb.
“What the fuck?” Blade shouts over the radio.
“Chelsea,” Ethan growls over the channel. “She—”
“Was aiming for Leilah,” I cut in.
I’m running before I shout, “Get in there!” and slap the radio onto the Velcro.
The VR world is a fraction of the size it seems, and I reach the kitchen in seconds. An emerald green dragon hovers between Leilah and Chelsea. Fire billows from its mouth.
I can’t stop the games. Even I don’t have that much power. But I can stop Chelsea.
I lunge toward her. My fingers close around a slim arm, then around thin air. I stumble forward.
“Raith!” someone shouts.
I whirl, dragging in huge breaths. Chelsea is gone. Leilah—
I look wildly about the room. The dragon bellows. I seize the creature’s neck and tear the left wing from its body. The dragon screams. I sink my fangs into its thick neck. Bones crunch in unison with my snarl. Blood fills my mouth. I throw the lifeless dragon onto the tiled floor. A large hand seizes my shoulder. I spin to face Ethan. He stumbles back two steps into Blade.
“Where the fuck is she?” I demand, but the stark fear on his and Blade’s faces answers my question. “No,” I whisper.
My heart thunders.
A Reaping. Impossible.
And Leilah was taken.
Along with her would-be killer.
###
Rogue Witch
An Illumina Academy Reverse Harem Novel
Book Two
She sold her soul and now she wants it back…
Condemned by her peers for her grandmother’s crime of treason, street witch Leilah Crowe’s very identity is brought into question, as well as exactly who holds the pink slip to her soul.
Her world further spirals when wolf Caleb Dakota and gargoyle Matthias James enter her life. Her love-hate attraction to vampire Raith Vanderkoff, dragon Ethan Bordeau and Fae Blade Tyrion were confusing enough. How is it possible to love five men—men who are willing to share her…men who would go to Hell and back for her?
But it may be Leilah who must find a way into Hell to reclaim her own soul and save them, along with the Academy that has branded her a murderer and a traitor.
Chapter One
LELIAH
The Reaping?
Sunlight blinds me. I jam my eyes shut and I stumble forward three steps before catching myself. Heart pounding, I blink my surroundings into focus. What the hell? Gone is the kitchen, the fire dragon I’d conjured—and Raith. I whirl. I-I’m standing on the side of a road in a rural countryside that looks… God, it looks like upper Westchester County, New York, where I grew up. What the fuck? Did the virtual magic Shadow world created by Illumina Academy malfunction? Is this a trick of The Shadows? Am I hallucinating?
The Shadows feed on our fears. Some people simply can’t find their way out of the darkness The Shadows create and psychosis consumes them. If we’re lucky—if being driven insane with fear can be called luck—the infected only take down themselves. If we’re unlucky, we start killing each other like we did in the recent Shadow War.
If they did infect me, it would have been only seconds ago. No way I can go from rational thought to insanity in seconds. Is this a part of the War Games we weren’t told about? Would The Academy do that to us? Would the Grand Witch do that to us? Raith sure as hell would. That fucking vampire threatened to expel me from The Academy. He would love to see me fail and get kicked out. If that’s what this is, I—
My thoughts halt. Oh God, what if I’m not still in the magical virtual Shadow world? What if…
I turn in another circle, slower this time, while trying to force down rising panic. Across the street, a large stone house sits twenty feet off the road. To my left, beyond the open field, sits a two-story stone home that’s at least forty-five hundred square feet. The road winds around a curve and disappears into trees. All as perfectly normal as any rural street in upper Westchester County.
I halt and look down at my clothes. I’m still wearing the skin-tight, dark brown pants, leather bustier and calf length, quilted, dark brown waistcoat. Even the burn mark from Chelsea’s lightning bolt is still on my right sleeve. I clap a hand over the Celtic short sword strapped to my belt on the left and the other hand over two Japanese curved blades on the right. I release a shaky breath. Still there. Thank God for small favors.
Everything is just as real as the virtual magic Shadow world. Only that world took place at night, near a large city, on the grounds of a crime lord’s estate. Is it possible this isn’t the War Games’ virtual world gone wonky but—I can barely conceive of the idea—that I’ve been taken in a Reaping?
No way. No-fucking-way.
I shake my head almost violently. What are the chances that Illumina Academy students could be swept into a Reaping—a magical reality that tests our skills against our mortal enemies, The Shadows—while engaged in the school’s War Games—a magical virtual reality designed to test our skills against The Shadows? That is too fantastical to believes. Another Reaping isn’t due for another twenty years. The universe can’t be this perverse a bitch.
Are any of the other students here? Is Chelsea here? When last I saw the teenager, she was fleeing with a Shadow on her tail from the house of the crime lord we were sent to capture. I conjured a dragon in an effort to get The Shadow to chase me, instead. Raith arrived an instant before—whatever this is.
His arrival surprised me. Instructors aren’t supposed to interfere with the games. But then, Commander Raith Vanderkoff, Mr. Vampire Asshole, does exactly as he pleases. No way Raith was worried about Chelsea. Fae Blade Tyrion or dragon Ethan Bordeau, maybe. But Raith doesn’t worry about anyone except himself.
A tremor ripples through my stomach. Are the teachers still observing us?
I look skyward and raise the middle fingers of both hands. “If you’re fucking with us—”
Fear whips through me. Something is very wrong.
Stony.
I draw a sharp breath and stuff a hand into the inside pocket of my jacket where Stony had been hiding in the form of a mouse. My fingers encounter the lining. I search left, then right. Nothing.
No. No. No.
I choke back a sob. I just got my familiar back two days ago. To have her ripped from me again so soon is…cruel. I slap my thigh. Ethan said if I give up my magic, I won’t have a familiar anymore. This sorrow that’s strangling my heart is what giving her up will feel like. Can I live with that? If I don’t give up my magic, can I live with the possibility that I might one day follow in my grandmother’s footsteps and succumb to Shadow magic? What if I’m already infected and this…place is the first step toward insanity? I take a deep breath and force my riotous thoughts to settle. Maybe it’s better Stony isn’t here. Whatever’s going on, she doesn’t need to go down with me.
A bitter wind whips my hair. I shiver. Clouds scuttle across the sun and the wind turns colder. I smell the coming snow in the too-crisp air. Under normal circumstances, I would flee to my grandmother’s ho
use and wait out the storm—the home that should be mine, now that she’s dead. But these aren’t normal circumstances—no matter how much like home this place looks. A burst of laughter breaks from my lips. These sure as fuck aren’t normal circumstances. I’m dressed like a medieval warrior. I have my fellow Illumina Academy student Fran Shelton to thank for the funky outfit. I hope wherever this is, she isn’t.
I glance left that right on the road. Does this reality comes complete with cars whizzing by too fast on these narrow roads. In the real upper Westchester County, it’s dangerous to walk on the roads, which doesn’t stop fools from doing so. There are no sidewalks and the wooded terrain leaves no place to walk except the shoulder of the road. I take a deep breath and, like every other fool, start walking.
Is anyone at The Academy worried about me? Blade, maybe, although he betrayed me. He’s the one investigating my grandmother and claims she killed herself while using Shadow magic. Blade, Raith, Ethan…they all betrayed me by not telling me the truth. Maybe Raith didn’t betray me, but only because he never liked me.
Lucky me.
I round the curve in the road. A large red barn borders the road up ahead to my left. Through the trees, I glimpse a massive house about eighty feet behind the barn. Up ahead on the right, is a two-story home painted mustard yellow with a stone wall in front. Houses in this part of Westchester County tend to be the four-plus bedroom size with acres of woodland surrounding them. When I was young, Grams and sometimes took drives to see the gorgeous houses.
I shiver with cold and stuff my hands in my jacket pockets. Memory wanders back in time and I smell the cinnamon rolls Grams baked on cold winter days like today. My mouth salivates in anticipation of the hot chocolate she served with the rolls. No one makes hot chocolate like Grams. I release a fog-filled breath and the sense of well-being increases. I haven’t felt this good since…since the last time Grams made cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate.
I’m startled to realize that the last time Grams served cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate was the day before she kicked me out of the house. I was fifteen. An unexpected sob escapes me. My God, I had forgotten that. All these years, I’d focused on the day she kicked me out. Why am I remembering this now? My breath steams. The sense of well-being vanishes and the sweet memory of Grams’ cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate collides with the memory of her shoving me out the door.
My attention snaps to rapid movement in the trees ahead. I halt. A figure is racing deeper into the trees. I break into a run across the road and past the stone house to my left. I enter the trees beyond the house and am forced to slow.
“Hey,” I shout. I’ve lost sight of the person, but they can’t be far ahead. “Hey!”
I continue at a fast walk and scan my surroundings but find no sign of human life. I turn and catch sight of a fist hurtling toward my face an instant before pain splinters through my cheek. All goes black.
I swim upward through murk toward consciousness. Cold seeps through my bones. A throbbing in my head thrums in rhythm with the beat of my heart. Dim light filters into my brain and I blink my surroundings into focus. I’m lying on the forest floor. Light snow filters down through the bare tree branches. My hands are tied behind my back. Grit scratches my eyes. I blink and try to brush my eyes against my shoulder but can’t reach it with my hands tied behind my back.
I force my shoulders to relax and close my eyes to allow the scant snow to land on my face. After several heartbeats, the small flakes melt and I blink repeatedly until the grit clears. I struggle upright and eventually manage a sitting position, then scan my surroundings. I’m alone and—my heart takes a dive—someone has taken my weapons and coat.
If this is a Reaping—which can’t be!—what the hell is wrong with these Academy students? The one instruction our teachers stressed was to trust each other. I, of all people, know how hard that’s going to be. If Thomas and his sidekick Ariel were taken in the Reaping, I’m going to have a helluva time trusting them. They not only fed the rumors about me being a traitor, following in my grandmother’s footsteps, they accused me of using Shadow magic to get a teacher kicked out of The Academy.
Distrust is the fodder that fed the Shadows in the last Shadow War. Most of us are too young to remember the carnage, but every last one of us lost someone in the war that took eighty percent of Margidda.
Who am I kidding? Thomas and Ariel would gleefully risk the Commander’s anger and leave me trussed up like a roasted turkey for the duration of the Reaping. Anger lashes through me. I’m sick of these jerks treating me as if I’m some sort of disease they have to eradicate. My grandmother died practicing Shadow magic, but that doesn’t make me a traitor. It’s not my fault she chose that path.
The Three—Raith, Ethan and Blade—aren’t here to protect us from The Shadows or from each other. It’s time these students got a dose of reality and I’m just the one to dish out the lesson. I hope those privileged brats beg to be saved while I’m escaping the Reaping.
I turn my attention to my ankle bindings. Which—well fuck a duck—are shoelaces. Oh, this piece of bullshit is going to cost whoever tied me up and took my coat and blades.
Determination to find my attacker bolsters me. Everyone needs goals.
I maneuver my arms down past my butt and shimmy them along my legs. My belly is flat, but I still have to hold my breath in order to stretch my arms far enough to get my hands past my feet. The asshole who tied me up tied my wrists so tight as to make escape hugely uncomfortable. Plus, my fingers are numb.
It takes time, but I finally work the knot loose from the shoestring around my ankles. I push up onto my feet and stumble. My left leg is partially asleep. I can’t catch myself and hit the cold ground. Goddammit, why did this alternative reality have to take place in winter?
I massage my sleeping leg until the pins and needles disappear, then stand. Now, I have to find a way to get the shoestring off my wrists. I examine the knot. It’s just as big as the one that bound my ankles. Maybe I should have started with my wrists. But I have to admit, I’m glad to be standing instead of lying on the cold ground. Without my coat, I’m shivering pretty badly.
I consider biting my way through the shoestring, but I’ll likely end up with bloodied and chaffed wrists and an even tighter knot. Whoever tied me up knew exactly what they were doing. The knot is near my pinkies, which is much harder to reach than a knot near my thumbs. I remember as a kid, when my shoestrings knotted up, sometimes Grams had to cut the laces because the knot was simply too unmanageable. I scan the area, but an inch of snow blankets the ground and I see no rocks that might act as a knife.
“Fuckers,” I mutter. They couldn’t leave me at least one knife?
Awareness causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. I freeze. I’m not alone. Leaves rustle behind me. I whirl, then gasp. A wolf as high as my hips stands fifteen feet away. I’ve never seen a wolf this large. I don’t scare easily, but this brute has my heart thumping like a jackhammer. He’s got to be a shifter. I’ve never seen an earthly wolf this large. I’ve never seen a shifter this large, either, if I’m honest.
He stares through eyes the color of tanzanite crystal. So beautiful. Beautiful or not, if he attacks, I can’t climb a tree or effectively defend myself. Will my magic work here?
Fear, very different than that I feel toward the wolf, grips my heart with a hand as cold as iron.
The wolf growls.
Oh God.
“Easy,” I murmur.
If the animal attacks, I will have no choice but to use magic. I resist the urge to look around for the floating obsidian ribbons that are Shadows. Are they close? Will they attack right away if I use magic? Is Illumina telling the truth? Does out magic feed The Shadows? Damn the Illumina. They make us fear our natural state. I don’t even know if this is a Reaping or if The Academy is fucking with us. I want to cry. This is so unfair!
The wolf takes a step forward.
I retreat a pace.
He hal
ts.
“Why don’t you just move on?” I say.
He shakes his head.
I blink. Is he saying no?
A shiver races down my arms. We aren’t alone. Who else is here? One of my fellow students? Gooseflesh rises on my arms. No Academy student elicits this reaction. Beyond the wolf, I catch sight of a single ribbon of black on a slow course toward me.
Shadow.
These are what Grams was attempting to control when she died. Have they come for me as they came for her? My chest tightens. Oh God, this had to be a Reaping. But am I sure? I saw Shadows in the virtual magic Shadow world, too.
The wolf spins. Its lips pull back in a snarl. His growl vibrates my chest.
White light, my inner voice whispers. Now! White light.
My thoughts jumble. Grams is probably in Shadow Hell, paying the price for her betrayal. Must I pay, too?
White light.
I jam my eyes shut and try to envision white light. Darkness surrounds me. I snap my eyes open. The Shadow is closer. The wolf widens its stance and continues to growl.
“God, I can’t see the white light.”
“Sure you can, sweet pea,” comes Grams’ voice in memory. “Can you see a streetlamp?”
Yes, that I can see.
“Look at that light. That is the essence of protection. Spread the light out from the streetlamp. Let that light surround then fill you.”
I watch the bright white light spread from the streetlamp and cover me. The wolf growls, low and rumbling. Even if The Shadow leaves, that damn wolf can still kill me. The wolf looks over his shoulder at me, eyes intense. He’s standing between me and The Shadow. He’s protecting me.
What did Miss Mack say? Fear and doubt are the enemy. We must trust. Trust a big ass wolf? He returns his attention to The Shadow, lifts his head high, and howls. I tremble. White light floods me just as the wolf lunges for The Shadow.