Chapter twenty-one

I stop dead in my fucking tracks in the empty hallway. The only students that were in this part of the school were the ones that were in Fitz's class, and we were the last ones out. I look around, probably looking like a fucking crazy person, but in all honesty, I fucking feel like one.

“Farren, are you okay?” Loki asks cautiously.

“Do you sense something?” Mayhem asks as they all immediately go on guard.

“At the risk of sounding like a fucking looney, please tell me you guys heard that voice?”

They all share a look, and I groan, covering my face with my hands. It was definitely only me that heard that. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“What did it say?” Loki asks, curious and not judging me in the slightest, and I could honestly kiss him because of it.

“Maybe we should discuss this back in our room, just in case we’re being listened to?” Storm suggests, and everyone nods.

When I don’t move straight away, Loki threads his fingers through one of my hands, and Reaper surprisingly does the same on the other side. When we get up to the room, Rival makes everyone their favourite drinks, and then they all sit there and stare at me expectantly.

“Well?” Storm asks somewhat impatiently.

“Erm, I was worried about Zev. I don’t like many people, and those I do, I become protective of, and I don’t like that he’s going to go through the games alone, so I prayed to the fates to keep him safe and then a woman’s voice filled with awe-inspiring power said, I hear you daughter, he will remain safe. Beware, everything is about to change. That’s when I freaked out.”

I lean back and sip my coffee as I watch the array of expressions go across their faces as they stare at me in silence, and I try not to fidget under their scrutiny.

“Let me get this straight you prayed to the Fates, and one fucking answered you?” Loki exclaims.

“Well, I don’t know about it being one of the Fates, but something answered me. For all I know, it could be the god of death or something.”

“I’m not even sure what to fucking reply to that. I mean, that’s nuts.” Mayhem answers.

“At least we know Zev is somehow going to be safe during the games.” Loki shrugs, looking on the bright side of the situation.

“Yes, somehow, even though he’s going to be alone with no backup, and there’s a reason why warriors have teams and don’t go in alone.” Storm says dryly.

In response, I just glare at him because, unsurprisingly, his attitude is starting to dip now. I suppose so long as we remain civil on jobs, it doesn’t really matter the rest of the time, except I’d kind of like to have the same relationship with him as I have with the others. I also feel like most of it is put on, like he’s playing a part and doesn’t want me to get too close to him, so he treats me like this. I like our sparring; it amuses me if I’m honest, but I would like to get to know him better and see the actual expressions on his face.

The conversation is dropped after Storm’s sarcastic reply, and everyone orders food up to the room and then gets on with their own things. I end up snuggling between Loki and Reaper, and I’ve stuffed myself full of food and enjoyed being surrounded by them. I must’ve fallen asleep at some point because I’m vaguely aware of being carried to bed. Halfway through the night, I feel the comforting warmth of Poca getting onto the bed, and I wrap my arms around him.

“Missed you,” I mutter sleepily and receive a scorching hot lick on my cheek in response.

With Poca next to me, my nightmares don’t affect me like they usually would, it’s almost like there’s a layer of protection between them and me, so I’m just witnessing them rather than experiencing them as I normally would.

*********

“Morning, Farren,” Mayhem greets far too cheerfully when I emerge from my room the following day.

I grunt my reply, not awake yet and slightly sore from riding so hard yesterday. He smiles at me like he’s amused and then holds out a cup of coffee for me.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

“Aw, hey Poca, where have you been?” Rival asks the hellhound, who is excitedly jumping up and down and saying hello to everyone. He even gets a slight smile out of Storm.

“He’s like a giant puppy,” Loki grins, his vampire teeth on full display and doing something to me, which I am going to ignore this early in the morning. More coffee, that’s what I need, not to be thinking about sexy vampire bites.

“Did we get our new schedules?” Killian asks, making a beeline for me and kissing me on the forehead as he goes past, his tail stroking my butt.

“Yeah, they’re on the coffee table,” Storm replies, frowning at Killian and me.

Of course, I ignore him, rather than engage, and grab a schedule, looking over it. I’m glad that we still have Professor Fitz since, out of all of the teachers, he seems to be one of the only ones who is genuinely invested in helping the students. I suppose the other teachers could have still been in shock and trying to get their own heads around the implications before they dealt with students. I hope that is the case and they all step up their game today and actually help us properly. After all, it’s our lives on the line, and we’re all woefully unprepared. At least I’m fortunate enough to have my training behind me. As I look over it, trying to memorise the room numbers and incredibly grateful that now all the guys are in my classes, I can follow them to the right one; as I look it over, I notice that they’ve combined combat and weapons together and made it an hour longer so instead of finishing at five our school day ends at six.

A knock on the door interrupts my study of the classes, and since I’m closest, I put it back down and open the door, surprised to see a harried looking Magnus on the other side.

“Magnus, are you okay?” I ask.

“Yes, yes. Well, is anyone really okay at the moment? Can I come in?”

“Of course,” I frown, stepping back and letting him into the room.

“Hey Magnus, how’re you?” Rival asks.

“We have a problem,” Magnus says in reply.

“Of course we do. What now?” Reaper sighs heavily.

I can’t blame him at all. We seem to constantly have problems or things that aren’t going quite right; at this point, what’s one more problem?

“Coffee?” Kill asks Magnus.

“Yes, please, a bit of something strong mixed in if you have it.”

I raise my eyebrow. Exactly what has gone fucking wrong now that means Magnus is drinking in the morning and before classes? Surely it can’t be just because of the games?

“Sure, I can do that.” Kill grins, seemingly unperturbed, he quickly makes up Magnus’s drink and then hands it to him.

“Thanks.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and Reaper is clearly feeling impatient as he asks again, “What’s gone wrong now?”

“I’m sure that you’re aware by now that the Headmaster is up to something?” we all nod, “well, he tried to send you out again this morning. Fortunately, I caught wind of it and managed to convince him to put it off for two days. I have no idea what he’s hoping to achieve by sending you out this regularly.”

“Do you know where we’re being sent to?” Storm asks, arms crossed over his chest.

Magnus’s worried look becomes severe, “He’s sending you to the Shadowlands.”

“What?” Loki yells, shocking me with the sudden outburst. “The Shadowlands are practically a death sentence for anyone who enters them. Only the senior enforcers go in if they have to, and even then, they rarely come back out again.”

“They’re a barren land, shrouded in darkness and fog permanently, where the worst of us live. Criminals escape there rather than being caught, I know there are a couple of towns further in, but the stories that have come out of them are truly horrific. There’s an unspoken rule, they leave us alone, and we leave them alone.” Reaper adds.

“Those towns aren’t quite as bad as they make out, but they do run on an entirely different and more bloody code of conduct than we do, and there are rules and traditions that, if you don’t follow precisely, will end in you being eaten.” I decide to add my opinion because the Shadowlands are actually something I feel protective of.

Everyone falls silent and turns to stare at me in horror.

“Farren, you’ve been to the Shadowlands?” Magnus asks.

I shrug, dropping my hand to run through Poca’s fur, “A few times, yeah. I should be able to get us there easily enough, depending on what entrance we’ve been told to use and what the job is?”

“Why were you in the Shadowlands?” Storm’s icy voice snaps out at me.

“That is none of your concern. What is of your concern is that I’m in a position where I have knowledge of the place that could help you.”

Anger lights his face. Clearly, he doesn’t like that I won’t answer him, “I don’t trust you. You’ve already had one assassin after you, and the Headmaster has a problem with you particularly. You are a hazard to have around my team, and I will not have them put in danger because you don’t want to share something uncomfortable.”

The guys bristle at his words as Magnus raises his eyebrows at his outburst, his eyes on me as he realises that I haven’t shared anything about what my father made me do. It surprises me when it’s Rival that comes to my defence, not because I didn’t think he would but because out of them all, Mayhem and Rival are the ones I’m not quite as close to.

“Hey!” Rival growls, “that was uncalled for, and you know it. There are plenty of things in our own past that we are not comfortable with sharing with Farren yet. Forcing her to do so would not help matters and would build even more tension between you two and possibly us. We can’t afford that right now.” Storm glowers at his words and clenches his hands by his sides but keeps his mouth shut under the dark stares he’s receiving from everyone in the room. Rival turns his attention to me, “Farren, is your connection to the Shadowlands going to put any of us in danger?”

“No, and if it were, I would’ve told you my connection with it no matter how uncomfortable it was,” I reply firmly.

Rival nods and looks back at Storm as if to say, see, I told you. Somehow Storm’s face darkens even further, and if looks could kill, I’d most likely be dead.

“Can we refuse?” Loki asks and then adds, “even with Farren’s connection which I’m certain the Headmaster doesn’t know about, it is still a massive risk, especially since we know he’s out to get her.”

Magnus sighs heavily, “This is the problem. If you don’t go, he has made it perfectly clear that he will send another team. You are the best team currently in residence at the academy. Whereas you all have a chance of being successful or, at the very least, surviving, it’s pretty much a certainty that any other team would fail and lose their lives. Yes, you all get taught the same, but it’s more than obvious that some people take it more seriously than others. You all also have a background and skills, which means you are far more qualified to do this job than anyone else. I can guarantee that if you refuse, he will pick the least qualified team so that when they inevitably die, he can put the blame on you.”

“Well fuck, I guess we don’t have a choice then.” Mayhem sighs heavily.

“I’m not having another team's deaths on my conscience.” Kill adds, his horns sparking.

“When do we get the files?” Storm asks, his voice sullen with a note of anger, and I have a feeling that he’s going to be an absolute arse for the rest of the day.

“I will make sure that you get them by this evening. I have no idea what this job entails and what it could entail; with it being in the Shadowlands, we usually leave them to police their own.” Magnus frowns and then stands up, draining his cup, “you better all get to class. If I find out anything else, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks,” I reply.

We all follow him out of the door to get to our first class on time which is the one focused on different supernaturals, their abilities, weaknesses and everything in between.

I have to say that now the classes are focused just on the games and everything they entail; I’m finding them a lot more interesting. The intensity the teachers are giving off is helping those students who have so far slacked in their classes pay more attention and take it seriously. Storm has been on at me all fucking day, with little digs, sarcastic comments, and generally being an arse. I’m giving as good as I get, but it’s starting to wear fucking thin now, and I’m kind of hoping that we get put against each other in sparring because I think we both fucking need it.

As we walk to combat and weapons, we get stuck behind a small group who, just from looking at them and watching how they look down on everyone around them, I can tell are the rich fuckers.

“Daddy’s going to get me out of it. He said he wouldn’t stand for me to be fighting in some games for the realms,” one of the girls announces proudly and flicks her hair over her shoulder. I roll my eyes.

“This is a combat school; surely he expected this at some point? Anyway, there is no getting out of it.” One of the guy's replies, not looking too bothered at the prospect.

The rest of them scoff at him as if he’s said something truly stupid, and money is enough to go up against an ancient realm that has the ability to do with us what she pleases.

I’m so amused by the conversation that I don’t realise we’re late, and when I get into the changing rooms, it’s to find them empty. I’m also suddenly aware that someone has followed me into the room. I spin on my heel, ready to defend myself and instantly relax when I see it’s Storm, I cross my arms over my chest leaning back against my locker and tapping my foot because I know it’ll piss him off.

“Go on then, get on with verbal barbs you want to throw at me now. We’re late,” I demand, and I get slightly nervous when he smirks, anger flashing in his eyes as he stalks towards me.

Now logically, I know that he would never truly hurt me. Still, as he stalks towards me, his wings flick out behind him, making an appearance for the first time since the level one fight and, with his aggressive stance, it starts to remind me of an entirely different demon. He places both hands on either side of my head, and that, coupled with his wings, starts to trigger a memory from the past one that I’d rather forget and the focus of most of my nightmares. He’s so much bigger than I am, and thanks to the memories pushing their way forward, I feel completely helpless against him, even though logically, I know I’m not. I feel like I did back then.

The panic attack hits me hard and fast, spearing me with its claws and relentlessly dragging me down into that horrific memory, back to that place of hurt, torment, helplessness and unimaginable pain. Unable to stop it, I scream at the top of my lungs, and I’m vaguely aware of Storm staring at me in shock as tears start to stream down my face. He’s talking to me, his mouth is moving, but I can’t hear him, I can’t breathe, and I’m in another time and place entirely. A small part of me is aware of him, but most of me is stuck in the torment.

He moves his arm by my head, and I flinch hard, dropping to the floor in a bid to escape what I know happens next. I bury my head in my knees, wrap my arms around them and start rocking back and forth.

“No, no, no, no, no,” I beg, “please, no.” Sobs are clawing their way from my too tight chest, and I couldn’t control any of it if I fucking wanted to. I have well and truly been triggered.

Burying my head may not have been the best idea because now that I’m completely in the dark, the memories seem to gain more purchase. I find myself sitting on the dusty red floor as a grotesque demon towers over me. None of them seems to wear clothes, at least not in this dungeon, but this one is worse. He gets off on my terror, as evidenced by his hard dick. I will not let myself be abused by him like I’ve seen him do to the others. I know he’s strong enough to take what he so clearly wants from me, but for some reason, he doesn’t. I’m hoping it's an order, and he just enjoys my prolonged terror, but I can’t bank on that. I’m getting tired, my strength is starting to wane, and I know this time it’s going to take all I have to fight him off. He pulls me up off the floor by my hair and shakes me, plunging his claws into my stomach and grinning at my scream as he lifts his bloody claws to his mouth and licks them clean, his eyes practically rolling back in his head.

Whilst he’s distracted, I try to summon my magic, willing a spark or something to come to my aid, somehow Father has stopped my magic from manifesting, he called it a training exercise, and I highly doubt he expected me to end up here after all I’m his best assassin.

Done with his snack, the demon turns his attention back to me; I strike out, grateful for my enhanced strength. He grins, grabs my arm and snaps it like a twig.

I scream.