Page 2

CHAPTER TWO

U p until this moment, Iriel’s expression has remained dismissive. Now her eyes widen.

She whispers through gritted teeth. “You wouldn’t dare attack me.”

Without letting her go, I carefully slide the spell from my right pocket, flip it open between my thumb and forefinger, and whisper, “Perfect power protect this place with my presence.”

Her forehead creases, but she seems confident enough in her abilities that she doesn’t try to stop me. “That spell won’t help you.”

“It’s not for me.”

Her confusion deepens before her expression clears. “Protect this place… Oh …”

Movement around us stops. The room falls completely silent. The humans and magical beings slow and freeze.

I’ve just placed a protection spell on them that has not only suspended them in time so they will remain unaware of what’s about to happen, but also created a shield around them against any damage that might come their way.

What’s more, anyone heading toward this room will suddenly have a strong urge to walk away.

Iriel considers me for a moment. “Well, I guess you’re not as reckless as I heard.”

“Collateral damage is always unacceptable.” I learned that from the assassins who are trained to kill with such speed and efficiency that collateral damage is not only unacceptable, it’s damn sloppy.

I grin at the angel as I allow the note to flutter to the ground. Her gaze follows it, providing the distraction I wanted.

My fist darts out, aimed squarely at her pretty little nose, but my aim is light and halfhearted, intended only to provoke her.

She dodges it easily and retaliates with a flat-handed shove against my chest, propelling me backward. “How dare you!”

I jolt back into the wooden table behind me, my hip hitting it hard. I allow the pain to shoot through me, allow my anger to rise with my adrenaline.

Anger is what I need—heightened emotion is the only way I can access my instinctive magic—and her shove delivered it to me.

My inner power floods to the surface, electrical currents sparking in the air.

The lamps dotting the wooden tables dim and flicker, the room around us grows dark, and the sunlight retreats with my rage.

A crimson glow grows at the corner of my vision—the color of my anger. I shouldn’t be able to affect the room because of the protection spell that I cast, but the power inside me is so strong that I’m in danger of breaking through it.

No spoken magic is powerful enough to defeat my inner power.

I advance on Iriel, threads of light like blood curling around my arms and hands. “Tell me where The Blessed Grimoire is located.”

Her eyes grow wide, but she also reacts instinctively. Her gorgeous white wings burst from her shoulders, her glistening, pearly feathers spreading across the space above the desks. Her wings are not as wide as some I’ve seen, but they’re no less impressive.

With a single sweep, she lifts from the ground, preparing to fly away from me, no doubt to seek reinforcements.

Rise.

The thought becomes a command inside my mind, my body reacting immediately. The air gathers beneath me, a force that propels me upward, effortlessly following her arc and intercepting her.

I give her the same treatment she gave me. My palms connect with her chest with a thump , propelling her back in the air.

The air whooshes out of her lungs, my power zaps through her wings, and she shudders before attempting to regain her balance. I chase after her, focusing on her hand, my gaze following its trajectory.

Snatching her hand into mine, I wrench her toward me, holding on tightly.

Lock.

She shrieks, trying to tug away from me, wildly flapping her wings and pulling with all her might. “Let me go!”

Our hands are locked together now, my magic binding us until I release her.

Up.

This time my command is for the spell in my left pocket. I can’t use my instinctive magic for this one. It’s too dangerous and my magic has a way of resulting in extreme repercussions.

The carefully handwritten note floats from my pocket, unfolding at eye level. Iriel continues to tug and shriek, her gaze shooting to the note. “What are you doing?”

She will never willingly tell me where the Grimoire is.

I read the compulsion spell carefully even though the words already burn within my mind now that my instinctive magic is free. “Terrible truth tear from trembling lips.”

She jerks backward. “A truth spell!”

It’s dangerous magic. The truth spell not only forces her to speak the truth, but combined with her angelic power to discern my inner nature, it allows her to see the truth in my thoughts.

There are many truths that her angelic power will allow her to see—many truths I don’t want her to speak aloud, let alone know about.

Unable to stop herself, she gasps. “You aren’t doing this for yourself!”

“Stop.” My instinctive magic flows through my hand into hers, forcing her lips closed. I can’t bear to hear her speak of the man who broke my heart, the one for whom I’m doing all of this.

“Tell me one thing, and one thing only,” I say. “Where is The Blessed Grimoire?”

She sags when I release her lips so she can talk again. “I can’t tell you.”

My brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know where it is.”

Is she lying? Does she know a way around the truth spell? “Tell me the truth!”

“I am! It was stolen.”

I loosen my hold on her. “Stolen? Then… it’s not here.”

She shakes her head, her wings drooping.

My heart sinks, and my magic lowers us both to the floor. If the Grimoire isn’t here, then I’ve done all of this for nothing. “Why didn’t you say so at the start?”

“That would mean admitting I allowed one of the most dangerous books of sorcery out into the world,” she whispers. “The other angels don’t know it’s gone. I would lose my head if they found out.”

I consider her with some pity. Angels might have a reputation as pure and just beings, but they’re ruthless in the face of failure.

“Who took it?” I ask, relying on the truth spell to force her to tell me.

“Mother Kadris.”

My forehead creases. Mother Kadris is a myth, nothing more.

My mother told me bedtime stories about her.

Well, not so much bedtime stories as cautionary tales.

Mother Kadris was a witch who offered favors in exchange for people’s souls.

The way the story goes, she wanted to achieve eternal life, but her actions backfired when a favor she granted led to the loss of the one she loved.

I shake my head with disbelief. “Mother Kadris doesn’t exist.”

“She’s real. She was here.”

I search Iriel’s eyes for the truth. Her earnest expression tells me she truly believes Mother Kadris is real.

Either way, it’s clear The Blessed Grimoire has been stolen by someone and that someone could very likely be the most formidable witch in our history.

Perhaps I should be worried, but all I feel is more determined. “Then I need to find her.”

Iriel’s pupils constrict with what appears to be a strange mix of fear and excitement.

“I heard a whisper that she can only be found once each year in a place where the monsters gather. You can only go if invited…” She leans forward, no longer pulling away from me.

“To a ball that I would gladly kill to attend.”

I inch away from her, the sudden dark desire in her eyes making me shiver. I want to break the contact as soon as possible now. “You mean The Monster Ball?”

She nods.

I narrow my eyes at her. The Monster Ball is another myth. Or at least… I think it is. Even if it’s real, Iriel is right: I need an invitation and I’m not likely?—

“You will get one,” she says, shocking me with her declaration. “The brokenhearted always do.”

“That’s enough.” I release her from the spell and quickly mutter, “Perfect power pardon this place from my presence.”

Iriel is in such a hurry to put away her wings before the humans see them that I make it five steps away before she attempts to follow after me.

I break into a quick stride, and she abandons her chase as soon as I draw attention from the students studying at the nearby desk. She won’t want to make a scene that could lead to explanations about the lost Grimoire.

I race down the staircase past the lion statues, cringing as their frozen eyes fling silent accusations at me for invading this place of learning. I can only hope Iriel’s prediction is correct.

If the stories are true, The Monster Ball takes place on All Hallows’ Eve, which is only two nights from now.

A shiver of excitement flows through me.

The Monster Ball is a place where guests leave their inhibitions at the door—something I’ve never done. I’ve always thought ahead, planned, assessed each situation before I act, protective of the people I love, knowing that my actions and choices can endanger them.

But at The Monster Ball… freedom beckons.

A night without consequences. There are many stories about The Proprietor of the Ball.

Nobody knows for sure what’s true and what isn’t.

Some say she’s an all-seeing being with immense magical power.

I suspect she has spies everywhere just like the assassins do.

No matter, all I can hope is that Iriel’s prediction will come true.

I will get a ticket and find Mother Kadris at the Ball.