26. Bram

26

brAM

I pace the grounds of Thornfield, growing more agitated by the minute. Where the fuck are Torin and Tate? We were supposed to be searching for Poison, not gallivanting off on our own.

A twig snaps behind me, and I whirl around, magick crackling at my fingertips. The floating figure from before emerges from the shadows, his silver eyes gleaming in the darkness.

"Bram Sinclair," he intones, his voice like silk over gravel. "We meet again."

I lower my hands but don't relax my stance. "What do you want?"

The creature glides closer, his feet never touching the ground. "My employer was most impressed with your handling of the Winslow situation. But we believe the situation at Nox was out of your hands. He has another task for you."

My eyes narrow. "I'm listening. "

A wicked smile spreads across his face, revealing unnaturally sharp teeth. "There's a warlock causing trouble for some of our associates. We need him removed."

"And who exactly are your ‘associates'?" I press, growing tired of the cryptic bullshit.

The creature's smile only widens. "All in good time, Mr Sinclair. For now, let's focus on the task at hand."

He produces a small, ornate box from thin air and holds it out to me. I take it cautiously, feeling the thrum of dark magick all around it.

"Inside, you'll find everything you need to complete your assignment," he explains. "The target's name is Ezra Hornbeam. He's been meddling in affairs that don't concern him."

I raise an eyebrow. "Hornbeam? As in the Hornbeam Coven?"

The creature nods. "The very same. We have faith in your unique abilities."

I turn the box over in my hands, considering. Taking out a member of the Hornbeam Coven is no small feat. They're one of the most powerful magical families in Britain. But the challenge intrigues me, and I need a distraction from the Poison situation. It is driving me mad, and at this point, I want to tear the earth up looking for her. But something that Tate said resonates in my mind. He said she was a shifter. That much was evident from her little stunt earlier. So, I'm guessing that searching for Poison is a waste of time. I need to search for the real her. Whoever that is. But it will take time.

"What's the timeline?" I ask.

"You have forty-eight hours," the creature replies. "And Bram? We expect discretion. No one can know about our arrangement."

I nod curtly. "Understood."

The creature begins to fade into the shadows. "Oh, and one more thing," he adds, his voice growing distant. "Be careful of the little assassin you've been chasing. She's more dangerous than you realise."

Before I can demand more information, he's gone, leaving me alone with the box and a head full of questions.

I retreat to my room in the townhouse, locking the door behind me. Sitting on my bed, I carefully open the ornate box. Inside, I find a vial of shimmering black liquid, a small dagger with runes etched into the blade, and a folded piece of paper.

Unfolding the paper, I read the instructions written in an elegant, spidery script: "To locate Ezra Hornbeam, mix three drops of your blood with the contents of the vial. The resulting mist will guide you to his location. The dagger is infused with a poison that will negate a warlock's healing abilities. One cut is all it takes. Good hunting."

I set the paper aside and pick up the vial, swirling the black liquid inside. It seems to move with a life of its own, coiling and uncoiling like a living shadow. The power radiating from it is intoxicating, calling to the darkest parts of my fae nature.

For a moment, I hesitate. Getting in deeper with this mysterious organisation could have serious consequences. But then I think of Poison, of how she humiliated me in the forest. The rage that's been simmering inside me since then boils over. She has touched a part of me that no one else has even dared to try and find. She is everything, and I need to figure out who she really is, but all in good time. I started with this as a means to an end, to get in the same circles as Poison, but that has become blindingly clear: it's not going to happen. This organisation, whatever their end game is, is about destroying The Syndicate, which means they are working towards a different goal, and Poison is not part of that goal.

Pulling out the stopper, I use the dagger and prick my finger. Letting three drops of blood fall into the vial, I replace the stopped and give it a little shake. The liquid inside hisses and writhes, turning a deep, swirling purple. I remove the stopper, and immediately, a thick mist pours out, forming into a vaguely humanoid shape.

The mist-figure beckons to me before floating towards the window. I grab the dagger and follow, knowing that I will see this through tonight. The thrill of the hunt is more addictive than I expected, so even if none of this leads to Poison, I'm still in this for the adventure.

As I move through the darkened streets of Thornfield, following the misty guide, my mind wanders back to the creature's warning about Poison. It doesn't come as a surprise that they know I'm somehow involved with her, but are they spying on me? On her?

The thought of Poison sends another surge of anger through me. The feel of her writhing against me, the way she moaned as I fucked her against that tree... and then the burning pain of her ivy vines wrapping around me. Next time I see her, I'll make her pay for that little trick. Not a lot can stop me, but nature? That's a new one for me. There aren't many creatures out there who can wield nature as she did, apart from the fae. It makes me desperate to know more about her.

The mist guide leads me to the outskirts of the sleepy university town, towards an area known for its high concentration of magical energy. As we approach a grand Victorian mansion, the mist dissipates, leaving me alone outside wrought-iron gates.

I can feel the powerful wards surrounding the property, layers upon layers of protection spells. Getting past them won't be easy, but then again, I've never been one to back down from a challenge.

Closing my eyes, I reach out with my fae senses, searching for any weaknesses in the magical barriers. A slight fluctuation in the energy field catches my attention, barely noticeable unless you're looking for it. I focus my power on that spot, slowly unravelling the threads of magick .

It takes five minutes of painstakingly delicate work, but finally, I create a small opening in the wards. Slipping through, I make my way towards the house, sticking to the shadows.

As I near the back entrance, I hear voices coming from an open window above. Shifting to a raven's form, I fly up to the window and perch on the ledge outside.

"...can't ignore this, Ezra," a woman's voice says urgently. "The balance is shifting. Something dark is coming."

"I'm well aware, Celeste," a male voice - presumably Ezra Hornbeam - replies. "But we can't act without more information. We don't even know who's behind all this."

"And what about The Syndicate?" Celeste presses. "They're getting bolder by the day. That assassination at Club Nox?—"

My ears perk up at the mention of Nox.

"Was regrettable, yes," Ezra cuts her off. "But not unexpected. Marcus Crowberry had many enemies. We can't be certain it was them."

"Who else could it have been?" Celeste argues. "You know as well as I do that they're the only ones with the resources and audacity to pull off something like that."

The conversation inside abruptly stops.

"Did you hear that?" Celeste whispers.

Cursing silently, I lift off silently and move to the rooftop above the window .

"Probably just a bird," Ezra says to Celeste. "Now, where were we?"

I need to find a way inside and complete my mission before they realise there's an intruder.

Carefully, I fly off the roof and duck down and around the house until I find another open window. This one leads to what appears to be a study, mercifully empty. I fly inside and shift, my feet touching down silently on the plush carpet.

The room is filled with bookshelves containing ancient books and magical artefacts. Under different circumstances, I might be tempted to explore, but I have a job to do. I creep towards the door, pressing my ear against it to listen for any movement in the hallway beyond.

Hearing nothing, I ease the door open and step out into the corridor. The voices I heard earlier are coming from a room at the far end. I move towards them, the enchanted dagger clutched tightly in my hand.

As I near the partially open door, I catch another snippet of conversation.

"...need to warn the others," Celeste is saying. "If what your sources say is true?—"

"We can't risk causing a panic," Ezra interrupts her again, which is a really annoying trait I will happily kill him for. "Not until we have concrete evidence. For now, we keep this between us."

I peer through the crack in the door. Ezra Hornbeam is a tall, distinguished-looking man with silver- streaked dark hair. He's pacing the room, a frown etched on his face. Celeste, a petite woman with fiery red hair, watches him with concern.

This is my chance. Ezra's back is to the door, and Celeste is too focused on him to notice my approach. I take a deep breath, steadying myself for what I'm about to do.

In one fluid motion, I push the door open and lunge forward. Ezra turns at the sound, his eyes widening in shock as he sees me. But it's too late. The enchanted dagger finds its mark, slicing across his chest.

Celeste screams as Ezra staggers back, clutching at the wound. Already, I can see the poison taking effect, dark veins spreading out from the cut.

I turn to face Celeste, who's raising her hands to cast a spell. But I'm faster. With a flick of my wrist, I send a burst of dark fae magick her way, slamming her against the wall. She crumples to the floor, unconscious.

Ezra is on his knees, struggling to breathe as the poison courses through his system. I crouch down beside him, watching dispassionately as the life drains from his eyes.

"Why?" he wheezes, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth.

I lean in close, my voice a low growl. "This won't make sense to you, but sometimes, the old order needs to fall for a new one to rise."

With those words, Ezra Hornbeam takes his final breath, slumping to the floor. I stand, wiping the dagger clean on his shirt.

The job is done, but I know I've just set something much bigger in motion. The conversation I overheard nags at me. What were they talking about? What's coming? The organisation I'm working for? The Syndicate? Or something else entirely?

I need answers, but I'm not even sure what the questions really are, I make my way out of the mansion the same way I came in, carefully resealing the hole I made in the wards. By the time anyone discovers what's happened here, I'll be long gone.

The night air is cool on my skin as I walk back towards Thornfield, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. The thrill of the kill, the rush of dark magick, is arousing.

But with that exhilaration comes a nagging sense of unease. I've aligned myself with forces I don't fully understand, killed a powerful warlock without knowing the full consequences. And then there's Poison...

Dark energy crackles between my fingers. No matter what that floating creature said, no matter how dangerous she might be, I will find her. I will make her pay for humiliating me. And then, I'll get the answers I need.

As I near the townhouse, I see a figure standing in the shadows by the front door. For a moment, my heart races, thinking it might be Poison. But as I get closer, I recognise Torin's familiar silhouette .

"Where the fuck have you been?" he demands as I approach.

I shrug, keeping my expression neutral. "Out. Clearing my head."

Torin's eyes narrow suspiciously. "For hours? We were supposed to be looking for Poison, remember?"

"Yeah, well, I got distracted," I snap. "What's your excuse? Last I checked, you weren't exactly focused on the search either."

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "Something's come up. My father called. He's in trouble."

That gets my attention. "What kind of trouble?"

"I don't know yet," Torin admits. "But I need to find out."

"How are you going to do that?"

He smiles wickedly. "I have a way. But it's going to light up this party like never before. You in?"

I chuckle, forgetting all about Hornbeam, the shadowy organisation and Poison for the time being. "You even have to ask?"