Chapter 22

22

DEVA

I wokeup in the middle of a nightmare I’d had many times.

Except this time it wasn’t a nightmare, and Lazaro wouldn’t be here to stop it. My body was tied down to a hard stone slab, my limbs frozen as cold wind and rain assaulted my skin, and the sound of animals howling in the woods caused dread to pool in my stomach. Then chants reached me, and before I could fully open my eyes, I found the gray skies above storming. Thunder rolled over their voices, and lightning flashed, nearly blinding me. It was early morning, the skies light enough to tell me that, but everything was cast in shadows.

The heartbeat that I’d grown used to was silent, absent. Much like the men who’d made it beat, and it rendered me breathless. Tears filled my eyes. I knew exactly what I was about to face, and they would feel it through our bond.

Astaroth was going to kill me again, but this time I wouldn’t be alone in the suffering, and that made me want to die—truly die—ten times over.

Silver cloaks converged on me, hidden faces watching me as the chanting grew louder and began to make my ears buzz. My previous nightmares tried to pull me under, to prepare me for the pain I was about to face, but I refused to let myself go numb. Something about this time felt different, and the minute Astaroth arrived, looking down at me with an expression that others would mistake for affection, I knew my prediction was right.

Fog crawled up the sides of the stone slab, and I didn’t bother hiding the tears streaking down my face. I didn’t care if he saw them this time, and I didn’t care what he thought they were for. I could practically see his giddy joy at the sight of them though.

“After all this time, you still fear death?”

“No,” I whispered.

“Ah, you worry about the bond you have with those men—I could feel it.” Astaroth nodded with understanding, looking intrigued. “Yes, I imagine that will be beyond painful to sever…it may kill them. Either way, soon it won’t be a problem or anything to cry about.”

“I fucking hate you.” My voice was cold and numb, my magic locked down so hard that it didn’t even flicker in response. There was no point in fighting it when I was secured like this. There was absolutely nothing I could do.

Fear at the idea of my men being hurt or drained caused my adrenaline to spike, my stomach rolling. The image of Boo flashed across my mind as well, causing my eyes to heat with more tears.

“And that wounds me, greatly,” he said dispassionately. “My own blood hates me. Which is why I can’t trust you anymore, even though you did come home. Now I’ll have to use you for another purpose.”

My jaw tightened. “Another purpose?”

“Yes.” His eyes sparkled. “All of this power I’ve infused in you, I plan on reallocating—to me. Permanently. Carmina will be mine, and so will your magic, Ayla.”

“Over my dead fucking body,” I snarled, unable to help myself. I knew somehow that if he truly removed my magic, it could hurt my men more than the process of dying and rebirth. No, I had earned every single rune that made me this demented creature. I had been resurrected time and time again, and I wasn’t going to let him take that from me.

“Ah, but isn’t that the point?” His chuckle was authentic as the chants rose to a crescendo, and he drew the athame that I’d held onto since he’d first given it to me.

“You’ve died so many times for me, Ayla, my daughter, my Dead Doll…but this time you will stay dead.”

Unblessed Witch (Phases of the Moon 4)will be the final book in the series. The pre-order date is a placeholder and the author has plans to pull the release date up closer to the completion of the manuscript.

Interested in the other DIA students?

Bexley’s story - Order here!

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Alina’s story - Order here!