Chapter 3

3

DEVA

The silver cloaksthat hid the faces and frames of Astaroth’sacolytes were somehow better at concealing them than the more traditional black cloaks worn in the dark of night. These matched the cloudy gray skies, and the dark velvet lining seemed to shroud them in shadows. Around us were tall hedges that lined the driveway to Garnet Hall, the ward between us and them marking the official entrance. In the distance I could see the consecrated graveyard of witches whose families didn’t have their own burial sites. The entire scene was eerie but couldn’t distract me from the reality of what I was facing—or who I was facing.

How many times had I seen these same frames looming over me while I was being sacrificed in the name of magical experimentation?

I was furious they were here, but I knew Astarothhimself was absent—I knew his magical signature like I knew my own. However, there were a few familiar figures present, one of which stood out to me more directly than the others. A massive masculine frame stepped forward in the tense silence between our two groups, neither reacting outwardly, his hood falling back to reveal a face I never thought I would have to see again.

“Ozul.”

My voice rang clear, and in the distance thunder rumbled, almost accenting my voice. There was no point in pretending I didn’t know exactly who he was because I could see in his silver gaze that he was well aware of who I was—creepy bastard. It didn’t surprise me in the least. The others stayed silent as my men shifted closer to me, a protective sound coming from Grim’s chest that had chills breaking out over my skin and nearly distracting me.

“Deva, I hadn’t fully believed we would find you this easily—but here you are, after all this time, and as beautiful as ever. Almost hand-delivered to us.”

Bile threatened to rise but I swallowed it down, feeling my power spark lethally under my skin. Rather than the numbness that often infiltrated me when it came to the memory of Astaroth, this sensation was pure rage.

“You know him?” Grimshaw asked, his voice dangerously soft. I knew he wasn’t asking if I simply ‘knew’ him—no, there was an extremely personal way that Ozul was regarding me, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“He’s one of his main commanders,” Alek answered for me. Ozul gave Alek a bored look before returning his attention to me. It made me wonder if he knew Alek—after all, it seemed his father was very closely associated with my tormentor.

“He’s also a fucking creep,” I bit out loud enough for Ozul to hear, his smile growing into what could only be described as sickening.

“You didn’t seem to find it creepy back then.”

Was this guy for fucking real?Stepping forward, letting my magic roll out from under my skin, I spoke in a hard tone. “Let me assure you, I found it creepy then—when I was only fifteen. I’ve always found you revolting, Ozul.”

Despite it being an emotionally impulsive move, I surged my lunar magic towards him in one hard hit—like a cannon blast. Victory flashed through me as he jolted and let out a savage growl, but unfortunately he didn’t budge from his spot. Astaroth’sacolytes were used to torture, so it would take far more than that to beat them. My action had the other silver-clad figures shooting magic towards us, their attacks landing harmlessly on the school’s wards. I turned towards my men, glad to know my assumption was right—we could attack them, but they couldn’t hurt us.

I was met with varying levels of surprise, anger at Ozul, and confusion, and I realized that an explanation was needed.

“Ozul tried to sexually assault me several times when I was a young teenager,” I said, a numbness to my tone that came with blocking out those particular memories. “One time was particularly bad…but I stopped him. It was because of him that my last few months under Astaroth were so much more miserable than the rest. I hate the bastard.”

The anger that surged through the bond with my men was visible on their faces, with the exception of Oz who was staring at me as if not fully processing my words. Or, and this was a far more likely option—he had processed them and was trying to refrain from doing something horrifically violent.

Something that would be well deserved, for the record.

“They can’t hurt us here within the wards,” I continued, the sound of their magical attacks hitting the wards still buzzing behind me, “but we also won’t be able to beat them if we leave—not without being prepared. We need to use the cloaking spell to get out of here.”

“Or we could slaughter them,” Grimshaw murmured, his gaze on Ozul.

“I prefer that option,” Cage agreed.

“She’s right, they have the upper hand right now. Even if we successfully slaughtered them, it’s entirely possible that there are more waiting for us, cloaked themselves. Astaroth wants zaya; he would have sent everyone he could. Plus, Deva was just injured severely—we need to regroup,” Alek said harshly, sounding like he was in disagreement with his own words. I knew that he probably wanted to destroy Ozul as much as the rest, but I wasn’t at the point that I could engage in that. I mean I could, but it would probably be to disastrous effect.

I had no doubt Ozul would end up dead, but Alek was right—Astaroth was always prepared.

“Will he be wherever Astaroth is?” Lazaro asked, his hard nickel-like gaze holding mine. “Will we come across him again?”

“I would assume so,” I said, and his eyes flashed with a darkness that I now knew resided under his skin. My gaze finally moved to Oz, who was staring over me towards Ozul, and when I followed his gaze I saw that the two of them were having some sort of silent conversation—or maybe a silent threat, because Ozul looked nearly green in the face. I stepped into Oz and rubbed my hand on his chest, his hand shooting up to capture my wrist before strumming a finger over my pulse.

“Let’s activate the cloaking spell and get her to safety,” Oz said simply. Cage made an amused noise, seeming to catch on that Oz was anything but okay right now. In fact, this sense of calm he had going on was more eerie than reassuring.

“Which way are we leaving?” I kept my back turned towards the crowd, the magical attacks slowing enough that I could lower my voice.

Lazaro’s gaze darted towards the graveyard, and silent understanding passed through our group. Oz spoke a single word—absconditus—and disappeared from sight. The rest of us followed his lead, and one by one we popped out of existence.

Ozul’s face turned red with fury. “Surround the building immediately—they cloaked themselves. We should be able to feel them break through the wards.”

Shit.

Despite not being able to see my men, I could feel my connection with them through our heartbeats. I followed my instincts, running towards the graves in the distance. Astaroth’s followers were spreading out along the driveway, and we were currently going far to the left of that. I tried to move quietly because despite being cloaked visually, I assumed the sound of our voices and footsteps were not. When we finally hit the grass, I was careful in how I moved, not wanting to give away our movements with the grass bending under an invisible force. A rumble in the sky sounded again, and a sense of exhilaration ran over my skin.

Despite hating that Astaroth’s followers were waiting for us, it hadn’t been him…and in the face of that I realized just how damn strong I’d become. It wasn’t his people I feared, it was him, and it felt like after running so long, I’d pulled the sheets off some looming threat chasing after me.

When we finally reached the graveyard, I easily scaled the wrought iron fence and made my way towards a mausoleum in the distance. I froze momentarily as I passed through the wards, looking in the distance to see if anyone had noticed the disturbance, but the robes continued spreading out along the driveway. I let out a controlled exhale of relief, though I hesitated when I reached the mausoleum. I didn’t want to call out to my men, but at the same time I didn’t want to leave the area⁠—

A hard hand grabbed me, and with a wave of lethal magic my cloaking spell was removed in one hard sweep. Fuck.

I groaned as my head hit the back of the stone behind me and Ozul was in my space, a hand slapping over my mouth, his dangerous gaze glittering with amusement. His scent and his magic had my stomach churning uncomfortably as I tried to focus on what I needed to do to disengage from his hold on me.

“Quiet now, we wouldn’t want to alert the others you’ve been caught,” he whispered as I tried to make a sound that would escape past his hand. Getting the attention of my men was more important than ever, because Alek was right—I could feel the cloaked men and women standing behind Ozul, unaccounted for and a danger to my men.

Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream sounded as bodies began to drop around us, their own cloaking spells being removed as their throats were slit, body after body falling into the grass with a dull thunk. Fear flashed over Ozul’s face, his grip on me tightening as he assaulted me with lunar magic. I cried out in surprise, unprepared for the attack. It felt like burning hot live wire under my skin, and I felt defenseless, any momentary victory ripped away by the fact that he was smashing my frame against the mausoleum with the full force of his weight.

Flashes of a time before when he had done something very similar, his hands roaming my body as bile rose in my throat and panic infiltrated my very being, started to slip through. My eyes fluttered shut, and all at once…

I exploded.

My magic detonated—all three forms of it at once—blasting over Ozul and throwing him back while ripping away the cloaking spells of every single person present. So many silver cloaks covered in blood crowded my vision, and I slumped against the stone wall behind me, glad to see that my men were okay. The blast seemed to have rendered many of the others unconscious or at least dazed, but it had protected my men, who looked a mixture of startled as well as completely on alert and focused, no doubt trying to figure out how the hell to get us out of this situation.

“We need to get out of here—they have way too many,” I said breathlessly.

“Absolutely not.” Ozul stood, trying to hide his groan behind a strained laugh. “You have an appointment with him, and I will be delivering you personally.”

Lazaro’s magic suddenly lashed out but Ozul met it, my eyes widening at the pure display of lunar magic. Ozul was powerful, years of training had ensured that, but Lazaro’s magic had a wild energy to it, lethal in its proximity and uncontrollable.

“Go,” Lazaro demanded harshly, his gaze holding mine.

“We go together,” I said evenly. His eyes flashed with frustration, making me know that I was probably going to hear about this later—but it was exactly how I felt. I wasn’t leaving him.

Unfortunately, that meant I had to face the swarms I had knocked back. They were flooding the space again, and I slipped into a mode I had long forgotten. The ability to fight in both physical combat and with magic was like a natural instinct to me, and as Astaroth’s witches flooded the area, I easily deflected them. I wanted to watch my men, watch them fight, because there was a level of skill and wild, untamable power that I could watch all day—but I also knew that we couldn’t do this forever.

The thunder in the distance was far closer now, followed by a crack of lightning. At that moment I realized the weather was far from normal, and shadow magic began to pour down from the sky, causing a direct divide between us and the opposing side. Grimshaw chuckled, and I watched in awe as figures appeared one after another in front of us, facing towards the enemy like a massive militia—a group of sentinels. An uneasy shiver rolled over my skin as I swallowed down a sense of fear that I hadn’t expected to experience.

“Who is that?” I asked, unable to help myself.

Cage’s gaze jumped with amusement that was completely misplaced at the moment but also unsurprising

“The Nyx family.”