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CHAPTER THIRTY

CJ

I keep my eyes on that ghost fucker as we approach Cassiel’s room. I have no idea how Isolde knows where it is, but she’s aiming for it like it’s a homing beacon.

The closer we get to Cassiel’s room, the more I want to slam the ghost into another wall. He keeps flickering at me with that smug, dead-man smile, like he’s won something. I’ve been restraining the dragon inside me for days, but the thought of him kissing Isolde, even as a ghost, makes my control slip.

Dragon scales ripple beneath my skin, and I force them back down with a hiss of pain. Isolde glances at me, her eyes narrowing with suspicion, but she says nothing. The ghost notices too, his translucent form shimmering with what might be amusement.

“Something wrong, Aquila?” he asks.

“Fuck you,” I mutter, clenching my fists to keep the transformation at bay. My mother warned me that powerful emotions would make control harder in this realm. She wasn’t wrong. But I’m here for a reason, and while, as far as I’m concerned, that reason isn’t really a reason. Try arguing with my parents.

Yeah, you won’t win.

Isolde knocks on Cassiel’s door without hesitation.

The door swings open, revealing Cassiel in all his naked, feathered glory. His wings are fully extended behind him, and his cock is impressive, even I can admit that. His eyes light up when he sees Isolde, then narrow when they land on me.

“This looks serious.”

“Put some clothes on, asshole. We’ve got a mission.”

“What kind of mission?”

“One that involves a ghost, a murder, and more information on The Collectors, if possible,” Isolde says.

“Ghost?” Cassiel murmurs.

“You can’t see him?” I ask,

He shakes his head.

“Lucky you.”

Isolde shoots me a look, but I ignore it.

“He’s floating behind Isolde.”

Cassiel squints, his eyes scanning the space behind Isolde. “I sense a disturbance in the spiritual plane, but I can’t see him.”

“His name is William,” Isolde explains. “He is a ghost from my room. I broke the blood wards keeping him trapped, and now he’s free to roam SilverGate.”

“Hmm,” Cassiel murmurs, making no move to cover himself. His wings flex slightly, sending a small breeze through the doorway. “A sentient spectral entity liberated through Blood Magic.”

“Put some fucking clothes on,” I growl, my patience evaporating. “Now.”

Cassiel blinks, as if just realising his nakedness. “Of course.” He turns and walks back into his room, wings folding against his back. “Please, come in while I dress.”

Isolde follows him without hesitation, and I clench my jaw so hard I’m surprised my teeth don’t crack. The ghost drifts after her, shooting me that smug look again. I swear, if he had a physical form, I’d rip his head off and use it as a paperweight. Although I did touch him before. That surprised the fucker. I guess being from an alternate dimension means I don’t play by the rules for ghosts either. It’s good to know.

Cassiel’s room is as luxurious as anyone else’s at the academy, but he hasn’t filled it with anything personal. There again, he didn’t exactly bring a bag full of items with him when he fell from heaven.

He retrieves a pair of loose black pants and pulls them on, seemingly unconcerned about his audience. His wings vanish as he dresses .

“So, what’s this about a murder?” he asks, leaving his chest bare as he turns to face us.

“William was murdered a century ago,” Isolde explains, perching on the edge of Cassiel’s bed without invitation. “Pushed from the Bell Tower and, um, spiked. We found a symbol carved into the stone where he fell.”

I keep my distance from both the ghost and the angel. The dragon inside me is still too close to the surface, and proximity to either of them might trigger something I can’t easily explain away.

Dragons don’t exist here. They are an anomaly that I really don’t want to get into. No one here is supposed to know I’m from a different realm in case they find me. I clench my jaw. Fucking hunters.

“A symbol?” Cassiel’s interest is immediately piqued, drawing my attention away from my predicament. His eyes gleam with that academic curiosity that makes me want to punch him. “What kind of symbol?”

“A circle bisected by a jagged line, with three dots arranged in a triangle above it,” Isolde describes, tracing the shape in the air with her finger.

“Any ideas?” I spit out.

“No. So we are going to the restricted section to find this symbol?”

“You are handy with the searching,” she says with a shy smile. “That thing you do…” She holds her ha nds up, and I roll my eyes so hard, they nearly get stuck.

“I can speed read,” I point out. “So can you. I’m sure we can find this thing without him.”

“Yes, but his celestial energy has a way of drawing certain texts to him,” Isolde argues, her eyes still on Cassiel. “Like it did with The Collectors’ book.”

William drifts closer to Cassiel, studying him with unsettling intensity. “An angel who fell directly to SilverGate. How convenient.”

Cassiel, unable to see William, frowns. He can sense something.

“He says he didn’t choose his landing spot,” I say.

“Few do,” William replies cryptically.

“What?” Cassiel asks.

“Nothing,” I mutter. I’ve had enough of this spectral bullshit. “Are we going or not? Every minute we waste is another minute those Collector freaks are hunting down Isolde.”

That sobers everyone quickly. Isolde stands, her face hardening with resolve. “Let’s go. We need to be smarter this time. No getting caught.”

“I have an idea about that,” Cassiel says, pulling a shirt over his head. “When I was exploring the academy yesterday, I noticed fluctuations in the magical barriers around the library. They pulse at regular intervals, weakening slightly every seventeen minutes. ”

“How could you possibly know that?” I demand.

He shrugs. “It appears I can see magical energies others can’t.”

“Convenient,” I mutter, but I can’t deny it’s useful information.

“So we time our entry between pulses,” Isolde says. “Get in, find what we need, get out before Blackridge notices.”

“Exactly,” Cassiel agrees, his gaze lingering on her with that unsettling intensity that makes my dragon want to burst free again. I had settled this with myself. I knew he was going to be inevitable. But right now, after this William kiss thing blindsided me, I’m feeling aggressive towards everyone and everything. I need to know more about the kiss, but if I push Isolde now, she will shut me out. She will choose him over me. I can see it, and it burns. His attitude towards her is the defining factor. He treats her with respect and admiration. I bulldoze my way in because that’s what it’s like to be me. I don’t wait around, I don’t cultivate.

I take.

But this time, it’s not working out quite the way I’d planned. She isn’t buying it, and I need to adjust the way I approach this and her.

William drifts between them, his spectral form creating a cold spot that makes Isolde shiver visibly. “The academy has changed since my time, but some things remain constant. The wards have always had vulnerabilities.”

“Let’s move,” I say, heading for the door. “Time’s wasting.”

The four of us make an odd procession through the academy corridors—vampire, fallen angel, ghost, and me, half vampire, half dragon, and something completely unique. Students press themselves against walls as we pass, sensing the power crackling between us.

“They’re staring,” Isolde mutters, her shoulders tensing.

“Let them,” I reply. “Fear keeps them at a distance.”

William laughs, a hollow sound that echoes strangely. “You haven’t changed at all, have you, SilverGate? Still running on darkness, fear and secrets.”

Part of me wonders if the academy can hear him. I study him as we head towards the library. I don’t know much about him, but I know who he is. William Harrington. A creature called a Sanguinarch. Brutal, savage, but in a calm, collected way that is probably more chilling. I believe they called him Billy Butcher back in the day. At least that’s what my rather pitiful research into him said. There isn’t much about him in the yearbooks or archives. It’s like he was scrubbed.

We reach the library just as most students are heading to the dining hall or to classes. The massive space is nearly empty, with only a few determined scholars hunched over ancient texts in distant corners.

Cassiel pauses at the entrance, his head tilted as he studies the invisible currents of magic flowing through the air. “Eleven minutes until the next pulse,” he murmurs.

“We’ll need to be quick,” Isolde says, her voice low. “In and out.”

William drifts ahead, his spectral form passing through the solid oak doors without resistance. “I’ll scout ahead,” he calls back, disappearing into the library.

I clench my jaw, hating the idea of that ghost having free rein. “Can we trust him?”

“I do,” Isolde says firmly, her blue eyes challenging me to argue.

Cassiel looks between us, clearly sensing the tension. “The ward fluctuation affects the entire library, including the restricted section. When it weakens, we’ll slip through undetected.”

We enter the library casually, spreading out to avoid drawing attention. I position myself near a bookshelf with a clear view of the eastern corner where the secret passage is located. Isolde pretends to browse nearby shelves, while Cassiel stands perfectly still, his eyes half-closed as he monitors the magical energies .

William reappears, drifting through a wall to reach Isolde. “The passage is clear, but there are wards I didn’t notice before. Something new.”

“What kind of wards?” Isolde whispers, pretending to examine a book.

“Blood wards, ironically,” William replies. “But they’re different from mine. More predatory.”

“Blackridge,” I hiss. “He reinforced them.”

“He must’ve,” Isolde mutters. “I can break them.”

“What? No, Issy. That is a bad idea. He will know.”

“So what do you suggest? That we go to Blackridge and ask him what the fuck this symbol means?”

“Well, yeah,” I say with a shrug. “Why not?”

“Err, because he won’t tell us,” she says incredulously.

“How do you know that? He seems forthcoming enough about The Collectors.”

“Yes, but not enough. We need more information on them.”

“Maybe it’s connected?” Cassiel says, coming closer. “We know The Collectors seek rare and valuable creatures. Perhaps they were after this ghost of yours. What is he?”

“A Sanguinarch,” I explain before Isolde can. “A blood architect. Extremely rare.”

“I thought they were extinct,” Cassiel murmurs, his eyes scanning the empty space where William hovers .

Isolde’s eyes widen. “You’ve heard of them?”

“In heaven, we observed all manner of supernatural beings,” Cassiel says, his voice dropping lower. “Sanguinarchs were particularly fascinating. They could communicate with blood, extract its memories, reshape its properties. Some could even create temporary constructs from it. Not usually pleasant creatures.”

William snorts.

“He’s got your measure,” I say with a sweet smile.

“Fuck off,” William growls. “I’m perfectly pleasant.”

“Is that right, Butcher ?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “Someone has been doing their homework.”

“You are near my girl and won’t leave her alone. Of course I have.”

“Butcher?” Isolde says, shaking her head. “What does that mean?”

“It means he is rather fond of slicing and dicing,” I say, again with that innocent smile.

“Oh,” Isolde says, looking at William with her rose-tinted glasses slipping slightly.

He simply stares back at her.

“So, The Collectors might have been after William, too?” I say to cut the tension.

“It’s possible,” Cassiel nods. “If they hunt rare creatures, a Sanguinarch would be a valuable addition to their collection.”

“They wanted to make you into a grimoire, too,” Isolde murmurs. “It makes sense on some really gross, disgusting level.”

“Well, if that is the case, then we are up shit creek without a paddle,” William states.

“Why is that then?” I ask.

“Because whoever killed me was inside the academy wards. They were an insider.”

That gets my attention immediately. “Fuck,” I mutter staring at Isolde.

“You can say that again,” she mutters, looking over her shoulder.

“Fuck,” I say. “Fucking fuck.”