by Tiegan Clyne
The girl nicks him and Cassim hisses, seizing her hand in a punishing grip. She whimpers as he forces her to her knees and twists her wrist, his fangs extending as she cowers. He pierces her flesh as cruelly as possible, ripping into the tender skin, then he drinks deeply from her until she’s wavering.
He abruptly releases the girl. “There. Blood for blood. Now get out, you clumsy cow.”
She hurries out as fast as she can, pale as a sheet of parchment.
“Women,” he sniffs. “They have uses but they are so few.”
I try again. “I come to you to ask for a boon.”
Cassim laughs, rubbing where the girl had cut him. “You are in no position to ask for anything, Blackstone, but I’m willing to be entertained. Tell me what you want.”
“I would ask you to delay Ravyn’s punishment until after the Festival.”
“Why should I? Perhaps her punishment would be a fitting centerpiece to the Samhain Masque.”
It would be just like the sadistic fuck to do that to her with all of the Everafter idiots watching. It would destroy all of our plans, and even if he doesn’t know the details of what we’re doing, he knows he’s throwing a gigantic wrench into the works.
“Everafter is not the place for the sort of punishments that Clan She’ol administers,” I say carefully. “They will be convinced that all Darkbloods are vicious and need to be destroyed. They can’t handle the horrors.”
Cassim chuckles like I just complimented him. By Lilith, I hate him.
“I agree that to do so would cast a pall over this ridiculous holiday,” he admits. “I will consider your request. Will that be all?”
It’s a fool’s errand, and I know it, but I say, “When she is punished, I beg you to consider that the fault for her actions lies with me.”
His eyes narrow. “She chose to act on her own volition to abandon our faith. She was the one who called our Lord and made her ridiculous declaration. She was the one who removed all protections from her family when she knew that witch hunters were near.”
“She didn’t know they were near,” I object. “I didn’t tell her.”
Cassim laces his fingers over his stomach and glares at me. “Why?”
It sounds so stupid. “I was going to lead them away, and I trusted the protections to prevent them from finding the cottage.”
“As they would have done, if Ravyn hadn’t denounced our Lord. All of the actions she took were her own. How do you have any culpability?”
I take a deep breath and try to explain, but I already know that he’s not going to hear me. “I gave her the idea, and I didn’t watch her. I should have known that she would do something rash to prevent herself from being separated from Redera. I should have…”
“Should have, could have, would have,” he drawls, waving his hand dismissively. “Excuses. You have culpability in this but she bears the brunt of the blame, as she will bear the brunt of the punishment. You will be punished, too, and you already know what that will be.”
“I have to stand by and watch while you torture her.”
He smiles, the sight chilling. “Torture is such a harsh word. I prefer discipline. Are you finished now? You’re wasting my time.”
The realization that I can’t protect my girl from this is gut-wrenching. I was a fool to think I could stand against Cassim. Even a punch to his smug face would only work poorly in our favor. I’m just the outcast they wanted to execute. Regardless of how powerful of a druid I am, I’m as good as filth to the clan.
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“Good. Now go.”
When we get to our room after dinner, there’s a gold parchment sitting on each of our beds. Broin is nowhere to be seen. I wonder where he’s gone to.
“What’s this?” Sirena holds up her parchment with a frown.
“Orders for summary execution,” Alice guesses, shrugging nonchalantly.
“We’re not that lucky.” I open the folded note and read it. “We’re being assigned places in the competitions for the Festival.”
There are three days of competitions and every student is supposed to be in at least one event. My assignment is the first-year illusions competition. The idea is that I’ll go head to head with one of the Nevermore students, also a first year, and we’ll try to out-cast each other.
There’s an audience that will applaud for their favorite illusions, and whoever gets the loudest applause wins. I know for a fact the noise won’t be based on the illusion I create. I could conjure the image of a steaming pile of shit, and the Everafter students in the audience will still bellow their lungs out. It’s about the school, not the spell. As long as the Everafter student wins, that’s all that matters. To them, anyway.
It’s the same way in all of the subjective competitions: wins are awarded by acclamation, and at the end of the Festival, there’s some sort of prize for the winning school. I have no idea what those prizes might be, but they’re awarded by the Royal House of Fantasia. Since we have two members of that Royal House in our first year class, I figure the competition between first years is a lock, whether we deserve it or not.
Wait a minute. Since when does fairness matter anything to me?
Alice glances at me. “Well?”
“Illusions. You?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Spelling bee.”
“What the hell?” Sirena exclaims. “Spelling bee?”
“Some spell ingredients have very difficult-to-spell names, I guess.” She shrugs, still wrinkling her nose as if she can smell them. “I don’t know. At least I’m not in the self-defense competitions.”
Sirena sits down. “If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll be in a swimming race.”
“Unlikely,” Alice advises. “That would be cheating.”
“I know, but a girl can hope.” She unfolds her note and rolls her eyes. “You have got to be kidding.”
“What?” I ask.
“Alchemy experiments.”
Sirena hates alchemy. The compounds and solutions almost always stink like crazy, and they can be extremely dangerous and acidic. Some of them have a really drying smoke, which would be beyond uncomfortable for someone from Poseida.
Alice walks over and trades papers with her. “Here. Your spelling is better than mine, anyway.”
I remember Redera begging Broin to be the judge in impromptu spelling bees between us. I never cared about such things, and I’d usually misspell words just to make it end. Redera was very serious about getting things exactly right. She was detail-oriented and hated making mistakes.
Ironic that she died because I made the biggest mistake of my life.
I look at my Daddy’s empty cage and wonder again where he went. I need to find him. I stand up and tell the girls, “I’m going for a walk.”
“Watch the time,” Sirena warns. “With the Nevermorians here, they’re going to be manic about curfew.”
“I’ll be careful.”
I grab my cloak and head down the steps, intent on going out to get some fresh air. I’ve almost made it around the last coil in the circular stairs when someone reaches out of the shadows and grabs me. A strong arm wraps around my waist and a hand clamps down over my mouth. I’m dragged into an alcove hidden behind a tapestry. I go for the weapon on my thigh, but a familiar voice in my ear makes me hesitate.
“Is that any way to say hello, Ravyn?”
The hands gripping me let loose, and I turn around to see Damien Salvador. He smiles at me, the smile growing from a smirk to spread over his handsome face. He’s always been gorgeous, and the trouble is that he knows it.
“Don’t call me that,” I say. “That’s not who I am.”
“Why not? It is your name, isn’t it?” He snaps his fingers. “Oh, that’s right. You’re lying to everyone and claiming to be your sister. Is that why you got her killed? So you could assume her identity?”
I narrow my eyes and try to choose between a throat punch and a kick to the gonads. “Shut up, Damien. You don’t know
anything.”
“I know that Redera and Elnora would still be alive if you hadn’t pulled that little stunt at the altar. By now, everybody in the clan knows what you did. Heaven, everybody in Draoich knows. You’re infamous, and not for any good reason.” He gives me that smirk again. “But maybe that was the point, after all.’
“I don’t want to be infamous,” I snarl at him. He’s got a talent for saying things that cut to the quick and I hate him for it. “I never wanted any of this to happen.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Of course I do!”
He steps closer, and I back up. My hand goes into the pocket of my skirt, and I reach through to grasp my knife. He’s getting right up in my personal space, and given my choice, I would be happy to gut him like a trout.
Damien chuckles. “You don’t regret it half as much as you will once my father gets hold of you. He’s having a special rig built just for the occasion.”
I pull the knife and press the point against his abdomen, right between the ridges of his infuriatingly well-defined abs.
“Why all the fuss?” I ask, as if I didn’t know. My bravado feels shaky.
“You’re special, my dear intended,” he says, pressing in despite the blade. The point penetrates his skin, and he hisses with pleasure. He grabs my hand and holds the knife in place. “It’s been generations since a witch renounced Lucifer, and even longer since a witch was responsible for getting her entire family killed. You’re fortunate that the revocation of our unholy lord’s protections didn’t extend to the rest of the clan, or worse, the coven. Then nothing would make my father hesitate to pull all the skin off your pretty face.”
He steps closer, his pupils blown with lust. I can feel his erection pressing into my hip. The knife in my hand slides in a hair further, and I smell blood. Nobody’s blood smells quite like Damien’s. I suppose it’s because he and his father are vampires and so little of the blood in their veins is actually their own.
“I know I made a mistake,” I tell him, “and I know I deserve to be punished. But that’s between me and your father and it has nothing to do with you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He rubs the tip of his cock against me, and I push him back. “This time, what you did was so bad that Father is going to let other members of the coven take a turn at you, too… starting with me.”
I go cold inside. I’ve heard stories of other covens that punished their condemned witches by raping them to death. I like pain, but I don’t want that sort of agony.
Damien smiles and steps back, releasing me. “It’s good to see you again, Ravyn. I’ll be honest, I was glad that it was Redera the witch hunters caught. I’ve got no use for a white witch. But for you? I can think of so many.”
“Well, enjoy your fantasies, because that’s all you’re going to have.”
“For now.”
I can feel Broin coming, flying like a black-feathered missile toward the tower. He knows I’m upset, and he’s coming to protect me, just like always. I don’t always need protecting, but I always appreciate that he wants to do it.
Damien pushes the tapestry out of the way, and he stops short, because Broin is standing there in man form, his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched.
“Blackstone,” he greets. “I was just leaving.”
“Yes. You were.”
“You know, very soon, you’re not going to be able to ride to the rescue anymore. She’s going to have to answer for her crimes on her own someday.”
I hate being talked about like I’m not here. Broin steps in between me and Damien.
“Perhaps, but that day is not today,” he grits out.
The coldness in my daddy’s voice is a threat that the high priest’s son is wise enough to heed. He looks at me and smiles.
“Good night… Redera.”
He walks away, leaving Broin and me behind the tapestry and out of sight. I wipe Damien’s blood on my cloak, then place the knife back in its sheath.
Wordlessly, Broin gathers me into his arms and holds me close. Through our bond, I can feel his anxiety making him almost sick with worry. No, not worry—it’s dread.
—What do you know that I don’t?—I wonder, afraid of the answer.
—Nothing you need to know right now.—
That pisses me off, and I pull away. I don’t want him to keep secrets from me. He can feel my anger, and he frowns.
—I know what’s best for you, Little Red. Trust me on this.—
I’ve always trusted him before and I know he’d never do anything to hurt me. If there’s something he’s keeping from me, I suppose it must be for a good reason, even if I don’t like it. I sigh.
—Yes, Daddy.—
He puts his hand over the corner of my jaw, his fingers in my hair and his thumb gently stroking my cheek. His eyes are intense as he gazes deeply into mine.
—I talked to him.—
—And?—
—He’ll delay your punishment until after the Festival. I don’t think I can hold him off any longer than that, though.—He sighs. —I tried, but…—-
—You tried. That’s all that matters.—
I put my arms around his neck and pull him closer. He comes willingly, his other hand landing at my waist. I kiss him, and when I pull back, I look into his eyes.
—Whatever it is, we’ll be okay.—
I don’t think he believes me.
I’m not sure I believe myself at this rate.
I smell brimstone. The air is hot, and in the distance I can hear someone wailing. The sound is comforting. It sounds like… home.
My unholy lord’s voice whispers in my ear. “We’re so close. The plan is working to perfection. Soon everything will be in place, and I’ll be able to close the last loop in this delicious knot…”
I see Lucifer in his beautiful angel form, seated on a throne of obsidian and bone. He’s smiling, very pleased, and he looks up. His eyes meet mine, and I can feel the weight of his stare. It’s entrancing. I feel like I’ve been enspelled.
“And just wait until you see what I have planned for you, my dear.”
Someone screams in the courtyard, and I jolt awake. Broin squawks in his cage, and Sirena, who never wakes up for anything, jumps out of bed, her hands to her ears.
“Augh! What is that noise?”
Alice goes to the window while I struggle to get disentangled from my dream and my bedclothes. I’ve been sweating and I feel sticky and disgusting.
“It’s a bean sidhe,” I say.
Sirena frowns. “A what?”
Oh. Right.
“A banshee,” I explain. “They’re normally not out in daylight.”
Male voices in the boys’ tower are shouting abuse at her, but the Nevermorian student in the courtyard couldn’t care less what they’re on about. She pulls her cloak around herself again, and it looks like it’s made entirely out of shadows and mist. Her head tips back, her red curls tumbling out of her hood, and she screams again.
I hear Gideon’s voice as clear as day. “Good fucking morning to you, too! Now shut up!”
Cassim emerges from Lockwood’s tower and walks to the banshee, who curtsies deeply. He speaks to her, and she bows her head, then follows him back into the building.
“Good grief, what a racket,” Serina complains. “Do they do that every morning?”
Alice shakes her head and gets Jasper out of his cage. He jumps and kicks his back feet, happy to be free for a minute and stretching his legs. Poor creature. “They only scream when someone’s about to die. Most of the time they weep.”
“Well, that’s depressing.” She goes back to bed. “Ugh, it’s too early. Wake me up when it’s time for breakfast…”
Sirena buries her head under her covers and goes back to sleep almost immediately. Seriously, if she could challenge Nevermore in a competitive sleeping match, she’d beat the whole school.
Alice looks up at me and says, “You were dreaming again. You were tossing and turning s
o much I’m surprised you didn’t get your sheet tied into knots.”
“I almost did.” The sheets are still a snarled mess. I try to straighten them out, but they’re just a disaster. I end up having to pull them off the bed completely to get them untangled, and even then, I need Alice’s help.
Alice slants her head at me. “What were you dreaming about?”
I look at her wide, guileless eyes and lie. “I don’t remember.”
She doesn’t believe me, I don’t think, but she doesn’t say anything. I take a shower to get the sweat washed off and get dressed. I’m not looking forward to this illusion competition. I’m good at illusions, so that’s not the problem. I’m worried that my magic, which is based in darkness, will be too obvious to the Nevermorians who are watching. This could be a disaster.
Broin knows what I’m thinking. —You have white magic now as well. Use that.—
—I don’t know if I can,—I fret. —The dark kind is so instinctual. It’s stronger.—
He caws at me and it sounds like a challenge. —Are you giving up, young witch?—
I purse my lips. —No.—
—Good. Don’t ever forget who you are.—
Once the other girls are ready, we head out to the cafeteria to get breakfast. The place is crowded since the Nevermorians are here to eat, too. They’ve brought their own cooks and their own food, because a lot of these creatures eat things that Everafter’s student body wouldn’t dream of even in their worst nightmares. I’m talking worse than frog legs.
We walk past a table filled with trolls. The literal kind. They’re tucking into large bowls filled with maggoty, rotten meat, and the stench is appalling. No wonder they have such bad breath. That explains why most of the students here are steering well clear.
The banshee is sitting alone, not eating. She’s just watching everybody, her gaunt skin pulled tightly over her features. The look in her eyes is cold. It’s like she’s trying to decide whose death she’s there to herald. I try really hard not to make eye contact.
Deciding against the tense atmosphere inside here, we decide to grab our food and eat in the courtyard. It’s a beautiful autumn day and the sun is blinding in the sky. The wind is coming in off Lake Annan, and I can smell the water crisp in the air.