Chapter Eight

Farren

“W hat are you guys muttering about?” Loki asks curiously.

“Crypt. As I said, I run it. I can’t do it from here, but my second in command can take over in my absence. I’ll still have to return occasionally though. The assassin that came after Farren was one of mine, but I didn’t issue the order. So, I need to go back and see how that happened and if there are more that we need to be aware of.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Mayhem asks, a concerned frown on his face.

“Just be on the lookout, and I’d suggest keeping some weapons up here. The people after me are extremely well trained. They managed to get through the so-called stellar security here at the academy.” I point out.

Storm snorts, and everyone ignores him.

“We can do that,” Reaper readily agrees before he narrows his eyes at Killian, “are you sure you want to enrol here? It seems like Crypt needs you. We all know that it’s not a small group of assassins you’re running.”

The others shoot him warning looks, but Reaper just keeps his gaze steadfastly on Killian.

Killian sighs heavily, and I see disappointment cross the other men’s features. “As much as a part of me would like to stay in the shadows and run Crypt, it’s out of my control, and this is where I need to be for now. This is how it was always meant to be,” he finishes cryptic as always.

“Even with the trouble it will cause with your father?” Mayhem asks.

“It’ll be worth it,” Killian replies with finality, his eyes on me.

“Right, that settles it then. Let’s go and get you enrolled, let the spear choose who your team is and then get on with the day.” Storm orders.

“Er mate, all lessons are over for the day,” Rival calls after him, and he pauses his hand on the door. He shakes his head and then pulls it open, stomping through it and expecting us to follow.

“I knew you were going to be fucking trouble,” I hear him mutter and raise my eyebrow.

“How in the fuck is this my fault?”

“Well, the guy was here to kill you,” Loki points out with a shrug.

“Well, cheers, dude,” I grumble, and he grins, swinging an arm around my shoulders as we follow a still cursing Storm.

“You know I’m only joking,” he replies.

“I know, and it is true, so I can’t really get mad.”

“Where does Poca go when he’s not here?” Rival suddenly asks.

“I don’t actually know. He just shows up when he feels like it and then disappears when he gets bored. He’s always there when I need him though.”

“Huh, that’s interesting. Have you asked him?”

“I used to bug him about it all the time, but he never gave me an answer, so I stopped asking,” I reply as we get to the Headmaster's office and Storm pushes his way inside without knocking.

“Storm, I’m surprised to see you here. I’m afraid I haven’t had any of my contacts get back to me about breaking the bond yet,” the Headmaster apologises and all of the men surrounding me tense.

When it comes to the others, I’d like to think that it’s because they don’t want the bond broken, at least not anymore, but I know for sure that Storm’s tense shoulders are because he wants me gone as soon as fucking possible.

“You want to break the warrior bond?” Killian growls as he moves from the back of our group and out of sight of the Headmaster to confront his brother, his tail whipping out and smacking Storm.

“Killian?” The Headmaster exclaims, his tone shocked.

Killian completely ignores him as he crosses his arms over his broad chest and stares down at his brother. Who surprisingly looks slightly uncomfortable as he rubs the spot on his stomach where Kill’s tail got him, before the sneer I’m used to seeing when he talks about me darkens his features.

“She’s a liability,” he growls, knowing full well that he can’t exactly call me inexperienced anymore.

Not after he’s seen me fight and behead someone.

“You are so wrong, brother,” Killian shakes his head, looking disappointed, and Storm inflates, getting ready to retort as his horns start to spark with his emotions. Well, the only emotion he shows anyway, anger.

“Enough,” Reaper growls, and surprisingly they both back off as the Headmaster just looks on curiously and somewhat shocked.

“We’re here to get Killian enrolled,” Loki grins happily, flashing fang and completely unaffected by the little showdown the brothers just had.

“Of course,” the Headmaster grins, gesturing for us to go into his office. “As requested, we kept his space open.”

“Thank you,” Killian replies with an easy-going grin on his face, a stark contrast to Storm’s scowling one.

“My pleasure. For what it’s worth, I do think that your brother is right. She’s untrained, spoiled and not worthy of a team such as theirs.” The Headmaster warns him.

My heart sinks to the soles of my feet. It’s starting to get really fucking hard, hearing that all the damn time. Killian’s face turns cold as his eyes flash with deadly intent. His fingers start to spark, and I know he’s seconds away from brutally murdering the Headmaster.

“Kill,” Reaper mutters, a warning in his tone.

I dart forward and grasp his arm just as he starts towards the entirely oblivious Headmaster. His dark and penetrating gaze snaps down to me.

“As much as I have fantasised about killing the bastard myself, you really can’t. It’s okay Kill, we know differently.” I try to get him to stand down.

“Fine,” he growls, a distinctive darkness to it that has the Headmaster finally glancing up.

As soon as his eyes land on Killian, he pales at his evident anger, which is made more terrifying by the grin Killian gives him. Even the guys start to look wary.

“I would suggest that you refrain from insulting Farren. It would also be in your best interest to put a stop to any of your enquiries regarding severing their bond. They won’t be needing it.” Killian threatens.

The Headmaster’s eyes flash with anger, “Now listen here, boy, your father may be the king, but in this academy, I rule. Don’t forget that I am more experienced than you are and could take you out in an instant.”

Killian’s responding chuckle is low and dark, one I recognise all too well.

“Ah fuck,” I mutter, and the others shoot me worried looks.

It takes seconds for Killian to have the Headmaster pinned to the wall, a menacing smile on his face and the sharp point of his tail to the Headmaster’s neck.

“How in the hell,” Reaper starts.

“Shouldn’t someone stop him?” Loki asks although mischievous amusement is still dancing in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, he won’t kill him; he’s just got a point to make,” I mutter, my eyes on Killian so that I can intervene the second that changes.

“And you’d know that how?” Storm sneers.

“That’s not his killing smile,” I reply snarkily. I’m done with his fucking attitude.

Storm opens his mouth to retort, but Killian starts to speak, and we all focus on that instead.

“Make no mistake, Sir,” he spits, “I could take you out before you even realised what was happening. I asked nicely, and now I’m telling you, or as Farren said, next time I’ll be wearing my killing smile.”

He waits until the Headmaster nods his agreement, awkwardly since he’s still got Kill’s tail to his throat and the angry demon towering over him, and then Killian unceremoniously lets go, letting the Headmaster fall to the floor in a heap.

Killian stands there, waiting for him to get up. As the other men just watch him cautiously, slightly on edge. I’m guessing Killian wasn’t quite as trigger-happy when they knew him.

When the Headmaster is standing again, Killian’s whole posture switches back to deceptively easy going, and he eyes him warily.

“Right, now that’s sorted, let’s get me enrolled.” He grins, and I smirk as the guy’s mouth drops open at the change in Kill.

“If you think I’m going to enrol you after that, you are deluded.” He croaks, trying to regain some of his composure.

“Huh, well. I’m already enrolled, and as far as a team goes,” he looks back at me and motions to the spelled display case that holds the spear, “Farren, Darlin’, would you mind?”

I sigh heavily and flick my hand, dissipating the spell and unlocking the case. I told the Headteacher only two of my gifts. The other two I decided to keep to myself for obvious reasons, they’re rare, and I shouldn’t have more than two gifts. My Void gift is fairly self-explanatory, but my other gift is even rarer. I’ve only found the term in a few ancient textbooks. I’m what’s known as a weaver. It was my last gift to show up and my most complicated, I have barely scratched the surface of how it works, but from the textbooks, it seems that I can create and blend my own spells, hence the weaver part. Which probably explains why I can cast spells without the help of words. I haven’t explored that side of the gift, but I have explored the reverse. I can also pull the complex threads of a spell apart and dissipate it. Some are too strong for me, like the spell my father used to make my wounds last, but the spell guarding the case was surprisingly easy to dissipate, almost as if it wanted Killian to take the spear. It wouldn’t surprise me; the fates are clearly at play here, especially if Kill’s been given a vision.

“Thank you,” he smiles, knowing full well that he’s dropped me in hot water as everyone stares at me in shock, including the Headmaster.

Killian strides over to the case and opens it up, reaching in and grasping a hold of the spear. As it did with me, it instantly glows brightly before it dims as it reveals a name.

“So?” Storm asks, apprehension flashing in his eyes briefly.

“Looks like I’m on your team, brother,” Killian replies, turning the spear to show the Headmaster and the rest of us.

I never really doubted that he would be, if I’m honest.

The Headmaster starts to stutter but panics when Killian just grins and throws the spear at him to catch. It's an ancient and priceless artefact, and even I hold my breath as I wait for him to catch it. He smirks as the Headmaster fumbles with the spear and then turns on his heel and leaves, all of us following him, not wanting to stick around for the explosive rant that’s likely to come out of the Headmaster’s mouth next.

We are soon clear of the room and walking the hallways, passing a few students who study us all curiously until their eyes land on Kill and then the rest of us are promptly forgotten. The son of the king reappearing after an apparently long disappearance is a big deal. At least, I imagine it is for some of the students. For the rest, they’re probably just as enthralled by his rugged looks as I am.

“What the hell was that?” Rival asks, his gaze moving to me.

Before I can answer though, Kill interrupts.

“He shouldn’t have insulted her,” he answers with a shrug, deliberately misunderstanding that the question was for him.

“Not that. I was seconds away from doing it myself,” Rival replies, shocking the hell out of me.

It was only yesterday that they all wanted me gone.

“I was talking about what Farren did,” he continues.

“Not here,” Kill replies, seriously looking around at all the other students in the halls and making the others frown.

“Good point,” Rival reluctantly replies as he speeds up, trying to get to our room quicker.

“You know the news of your return will have made it to father by dinner time,” Storm points out, glancing at Killian.

He tenses at the mention of his father, and I fucking hate it. His father may be the king, but he rivals my own in his cruelty. At least there was always some tiny shred of hope that I could get out, Killian and I guess Storm, too, had no fucking chance. No one would be willing to go against the king. Except for me, of course, but I’m biding my time, and that’s just a vague notion at the moment, not even an idea. It’s there though, hovering in the back of my mind, ready to turn into a possibility as soon as I give it enough attention. For now, it can stay where it is.

“I know, but we can do nothing about it.” His face is stern as he looks at Storm, “unlike when I left, he will find me incredibly difficult to control. I have no problem using my unique set of skills to defend those I care about or myself.”

“Careful brother, it only takes one wrong person to hear you speak like that,” Storm cautions, worry coating his every word.

“I am aware,” Kill replies simply.

We unlock the door to our rooms and all spread out around the living room. Rival is practically bouncing in his seat, and I raise my eyebrow at him in curiosity.

“I can’t hold it in any longer. What the hell was that, Farren?”

I grin at his complete lack of patience before deciding to put him out of his misery, “I’m a Weaver.”

“No fucking way!” He exclaims while the others look between us, confused.

“Never heard of it,” Storm grumbles, crossing his tattooed arms over his barrel chest and staring at me unwaveringly.

“Me neither,” Loki adds.

“Why wasn’t it listed as one of your gifts?” Mayhem asks before his eyes widen as he realises something, and he continues without giving me the chance to answer, “wait, you have four gifts?”

“Erm yeah,” I reply somewhat meekly. I’m not used to admitting it out loud.

“I imagine that was one of the reasons she didn’t have it listed,” Rival starts moving to the edge of his seat, as something like excitement dances in his bright orange eyes. “The other reason, of course, is that Weavers are extremely rare. There hasn’t been one for centuries. They died out a few decades before all of the Soulmate Bonds started disappearing.”

“Wow,” Loki mutters, looking at me with something akin to shocked awe, before he wrinkles his nose in confusion, “wait, what’s a Weaver?”

“I actually don’t know much about them,” I admit, “I could only find a few brief mentions of the power in the books that my father had, and he has quite an extensive collection.”

“Did he tell you what your gift was called then?” Loki asks.

“It’s always surprised me that your father knows of your Weaver gift and hasn’t tried to exploit it.” Kill mentions casually, and I frown, “what?”

“He didn’t tell me. He doesn’t know about my Void or Weaver gifts.”

“Well, how did you know what your gift was then?” Mayhem asks.

“The same way I always know, the voice tells me when it emerges.”

“The what?” Rival frowns.

“I told you she was fucking batshit crazy.” Storm grins.

I frown heavily. I don’t get what the problem is here. “I don’t understand?”

They all share a look, and Rival sighs taking the lead, “Just to clarify, every time one of your gifts has emerged, you’ve heard a voice that tells you what your gift is called?” I nod, and he continues, “what does it sound like?”

“A female voice. I have never got a bad feeling from it. Why, what do your voices sound like?”

“We haven’t heard voices, Darlin’. When we got a gift, we had to ask our parents or tutors what they were. As does everyone else,” Kill says carefully, watching me closely.

I pause as I take that in and study their expression to ensure they aren’t just trying to mess with me. They all look deadly serious, and I begin to wish I kept my mouth shut. The problem is that I am very isolated despite my father being a man in power. I didn’t know it wasn’t normal.

Storm’s snigger only makes my sinking feeling grow worse, and I start to contemplate keeping everything to myself in the future, just in case I prove to be even more weird than I know myself to be already. Loki reaches behind Mayhem and smacks Storm on the back of the head, responding to his glare with one of his own.

“Don’t shut down.” Killian orders, and I narrow my eyes at him.

“He’s right. Please don’t pull away from us now. I’m sure there’s a reason for it. I’ve only known you for two days, and I can already see that there’s something special about you.” Rival replies sweetly, and Loki preemptively smacks Storm before he can say anything to spoil the moment.

I snort out a very unflattering laugh, “There’s nothing special about me, but I appreciate the sentiment. The truth is it’s probably some sort of trauma response.”

A resounding and combined growl echoes throughout the room, the ferocity and inhuman nature of it sending a shot of adrenaline through my veins and making me grin. God, I love that sound. I probably shouldn’t, it should probably scare me, but my flight or fight responses have always been a bit iffy.

Killian smirks, as he recognises my response to their combined growl and shakes his head, amusement dancing in the depths of his burgundy eyes. He knows me too well; I wink at him as the guys get themselves under control and Rival turns the conversation back to me and my weird voice.