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CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CASSIEL

My wings flare instinctively at Blackridge’s words, expanding to their full span in the confined space. The energy crackling between my feathers responds to the threat, golden-black power humming just beneath the surface. Beside me, CJ shifts into a fighting stance, his body coiled with predatory tension.

“You ‘collect’ rare creatures?” Isolde repeats, her voice admirably steady despite the fear I can sense from her.

Blackridge raises an eyebrow at our defensive postures. “I do. You are all rare and special creatures, aren’t you?”

“What does that mean?” I demand. “You do the dirty work for The Collectors?”

Blackridge smiles. It is not a pleasant smile. It sends a chill down to my soul. “No, as I said, they are an abomination.”

“So what? You pretend to be a sanctuary, but instead we are all little dolls in your very own special dollhouse?” Isolde spits out.

“More like it,” Blackridge says. “But with one very important distinction.”

“Oh, and what is that?” I growl before CJ can.

Blackridge ignores me and moves over to the bookcase where CJ said the most dangerous texts were. I see them flinch when he passes, and I wonder again what kind of creature he is and what kind of power he wields. “Case studies. We research, we learn, we help those who have no idea of their true potential by placing them in situations that are outside of their comfort zones.”

“You’re testing us?”

“Sometimes. We need to see what you are capable of, and what you aren’t.”

“Like Benz,” I mutter. “You didn’t let that fight go ahead because of me, or not only me, but Benz as well. You wanted to see if his ward against dying worked.”

“And it did,” he says. “Imagine my delight.”

“This is sick!” Isolde cries. “You are treating us like property.”

“No, I am treating you like students. We are all here to learn, are we not? ”

I understand his way of thinking. It makes sense. Learning is a never-ending constant. How are we to know things if we don’t learn, study, research?

“I get it,” I say, causing Isolde to hiss at me. CJ, on the other hand, looks like he gets it, too. “It is give and take. You give us experiences we need for the real world, to push our boundaries.”

“To let us do what we must to survive,” CJ adds, nodding almost in approval. “What I don’t get is why you accepted Isolde here, knowing she is a target? Are you going to protect her or throw her to the wolves when they inevitably circle?”

“Miss Morvoren will need to defend herself. That is why she is here, Mr Aquila. To learn, to adapt, to grow her power. I believe she is already showing signs of maturing.”

CJ and I stare at her.

She blushes, a very adorable trait she has when she is under the spotlight. “The incident in the dining hall,” she says.

“What incident?” I ask.

“My powers manifested in a way they haven’t before. It was almost like telekinesis as opposed to simply being defensive magic.”

“Ah, yes,” Blackridge’s voice carries a note of satisfaction. “Your defensive capabilities are evolving. Precisely as I anticipated.”

I study Isolde’s face, watching the play of emotions, fear, confusion, anger, all warring for dominance. Her power is growing, changing. It’s fascinating to witness, even as I worry about her safety.

“So what now?” CJ demands, his patience clearly wearing thin. “The Collectors are coming for her, and your grand plan is to let her figure it out?”

Blackridge’s dark eyes narrow. “Quite, Mr Aquila. SilverGate’s defences are formidable, but not infallible. The Collectors employ powerful magic and ancient rituals to acquire their prizes.”

“You have picked out classes that will broaden Isolde’s range,” I say, nodding thoughtfully. “Arcane Theory, Advanced Blood Magic, Defensive Spellcraft, History of Supernatural Warfare, Dimensional Theory, Defensive Combat Training.”

“Precisely. You, Miss Morvoren, have to decide your own fate.”

With that, he clicks his fingers, and we end up back in the library outside the bookcase with the lever book missing.

“Well, great,” Isolde snaps. “This was not how I expected this to go.”

“How did you expect it to go?” I ask.

She bares her fangs at me, and my cock goes hard. I reach for her without thinking, drawn to her. She’s magnificent in her anger, her eyes flashing, fangs gleaming. It’s a primal call I can barely resist.

CJ intercepts my hand before I can touch her, his grip tight but not painful. “Down, angel,” he murmurs, his voice laced with understanding rather than animosity. “Now’s not the time.”

He’s right, of course. Isolde is trembling with rage and fear, her arms wrapped around herself, trying to hold everything together.

“I need a plan,” she says finally, her voice steadier than I expected. “If these Collectors are coming for me, I need to be ready.”

“We’ll help you,” I say immediately, my wings settling against my back. “Whatever it takes.”

CJ nods, releasing my wrist. “For once, I agree with feathers. You’re not facing this alone.”

Isolde looks between us, suspicion clouding her features. “Why? Why would either of you risk yourselves for me?”

“You know why,” CJ says quietly.

I feel a strange resonance with his words. The pull I feel toward Isolde isn’t merely physical attraction or academic curiosity. It’s deeper, more primal, almost like a cosmic imperative. “I don’t fully understand it myself,” I admit, “but I’m not walking away from you.”

She swallows hard, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I don’t know if I can trust anyone. My parents kept me locked away for twenty-one years without telling me why. Blackridge is using me as some kind of supernatural science experiment. For all I know, you two could be Collectors in disguise. ”

“Now that’s just insulting,” CJ drawls, but there’s a hint of hurt beneath his bravado.

I step closer to her, careful not to crowd her. “Isolde, I fell from heaven. It wasn’t a metaphor. I physically fell through dimensions, through realities, and landed here. Do you really think that was a coincidence?”

She looks up at me, her blue eyes searching mine. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I believe I was meant to find you. To protect you.”

“That’s very poetic, angel,” CJ says, but his tone lacks its usual bite. “But what she needs right now is practical help. Training. Protection.”

“I need both,” Isolde says quietly. “And I need to talk to Isaac. He needs to know what’s happening.”

I nod, my wings settling against my back. “I’ll help you train. My celestial energy might be useful against these Collectors.”

“As will my… specialised skill set.” CJ smiles, it’s cold and wicked.

“Which is?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

“For me to know and you to find out,” he says in that annoying way that riles me more than it should.

Isolde shakes her head. “I need to speak to Isaac. I’ll catch up with you two idiots later.”

“Idiot?” I ask, affronted, but she’s gone in a flash of vampire speed. I turn to CJ. “She thinks we’ re idiots?”

“Well, you maybe,” he says with a frown.

My eyes roll up in a natural reaction to this infuriating creature. How I’m not going to kill him is going to be a test all on its own. Perhaps Blackridge knows and is watching. Waiting.