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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

ISOLDE

“We need a plan,” I say, pulling on a pair of black jeans and a white shirt. “Something more specific than ‘let them come.’”

“We aren’t doing this,” Cassiel says suddenly.

“What? Why not?”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“We don’t really have much choice.”

I look at CJ, who is scrutinising Cassiel. “Actually, he’s right. This is too soon.”

“Too soon?” I croak. “They could come for me any second.”

“They could, but you aren’t ready and taking the fight to them is suicide.”

“What?” I’m confused by the one-eighty.

“You’ve been here for less than a week, Issy. You are nowhere near trained enough to fight, yet. It’s why Blackridge put you in the classes he did. To train you.”

“But you just said we should fight!”

“And now I’ve changed my mind.”

“So have I,” Cassiel states. “We need more time.”

“We don’t have time! Stop protecting me and start helping me!” I spin from them, fuming even though a small part of me knows they’re right.

“Issy!” Isaac’s voice calls through the door.

I yank it open and glare at him. “What?”

“Are you okay?” he asks earnestly.

“Pissed off but fine. You?”

He frowns and steps into the room where the tension is sky high.

“We are having a disagreement.”

“Do I want to know?” he asks darkly.

“No,” I say, but don’t get any further as the scrying mirror on my desk vibrates.

Isaac and I exchange a glance and then leap forward. “Mum! Dad!”

I peer in the mirror with Isaac right next to me. Our mother’s face swims into view, stricken. “Issy!” she cries. “I don’t have much time. Find your brother’s friend. He can protect you. He’s?—”

The connection cuts off.

“Mum?” I shout, tapping the mirror. “Mum!”

“She’s gone,” Isaac says grimly. “At least we know she’s alive. ”

“For now,” I mutter. “And what about Dad?”

Isaac shrugs.

I shake my head. “Why did she want me to find you?” I ask, turning to CJ. “He’s…?”

“The most powerful vampire in the realm?” CJ finishes for me with that smile that makes me want to punch it off his face and my pussy goes damp.

“Pah, you wish,” I scoff.

His smile doesn’t falter. “They’re not wrong.”

“She didn’t say that!”

“No, but she meant it. I can protect you.”

“By not letting me set a trap for these fuckers.”

“That’s a start.”

“Grr,” I growl, and then a commotion outside makes me frown. I quickly cross over to the window and stare down at the courtyard. “What the hell?”

“What is it?” Cassiel asks, coming up behind me.

“Massive brawl,” CJ comments. “I wonder who started that.”

He is staring at Benz, shifted and tearing through every creature he can get his hands on.

“We should stop him,” Cassiel says.

“The bell will toll soon,” Isaac says, but it doesn’t.

We stand there staring out at the carnage, and no one does anything to stop it.

“I’m going down there,” CJ says and opens the window.

“No!” I shout, but it’s too late. He drops from the window with Cassiel right behind him, spreading his wings to break his fall.

Isaac follows, and something deep, dark and foreboding makes me follow them. I crouch on the windowsill and then drop to the ground gracefully, landing in a crouch and looking around. The guys have all been dragged into the fight, which is now roughly a hundred creatures strong. “What the fuck?”

I glance around as the ground rumbles under my feet. The savage brutality of the fight is escalating rapidly, and creatures are shifting into their more monstrous forms. Blood splatters across the ancient stones as claws rake and fangs tear. The air fills with inhuman snarls and the crack of broken bones.

Frantically, I try to find my brother and my guys.

CJ slashes his claws across the throat of a student who is trying to viciously gut him.

Cassiel’s wings manifest and retract as he moves through the chaos. Golden-black lightning sparks from his fingertips, sending attackers flying backwards into stone walls. But even his fallen angelic power seems strained against the sheer number of frenzied creatures.

Isaac is a blur of offensive magic, flames dancing from his hands as he carves a path through the melee. Death and destruction is everywhere.

And then I spot something that makes my blood run cold .

Standing at the edge of the courtyard, perfectly still amidst the chaos, not fighting, not moving, just watching. Observing. Taking notes in a leather-bound journal.

A professor.

Not one, two. Three. Four.

Based at strategic points, Blackridge is nowhere to be seen. The bell isn’t sounding.

This isn’t random violence, it’s orchestrated. Someone has deliberately triggered this massive brawl to create chaos.

But for some reason, it doesn’t seem to be affecting me.

I spin, looking around for someone else like me, someone who can help me stop this insanity, but I realise, I’m surrounded by the witches who tripped me up the other day.

Three of them, their eyes flashing black as they cackle.

“Lost little lamb,” the ringleader coos. “So alone, so afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I spit out and use my magic to create a shield.

She hisses, baring her teeth at me and slashes at the shield with a hex that rips it apart.

I stumble back as her friends throw magic at my feet that makes my skin crawl. They’re forcing me backwards, boxing me in. I coil every ounce of magic I can inside me and blast it outwards in a wave of power.

They stumble, but whatever is controlling them is stronger.

“Fuck,” I mutter. “Fuck.”

They advance on me, and the brand on my chest flares white-hot. I gasp as the pain races through my veins. The witches’ cackles turn to shrieks of triumph as the sigil burns brighter. I can feel it pulling at something deep inside me, draining my strength with each pulse of searing pain.

My knees buckle as the brand sends another wave of agony through my chest. My back hits the unforgiving cold stone of the academy building. I have nowhere to run as the witches close in. The leader uses her magic to spin me around, and my face smashes against the stone, making me grunt. She strips my shirt from me with a blast of magic powerful enough to sear my skin.

The other two witches restrain my arms with coils of snake-like black magic that seeps into my skin, trying to corrupt me. I close my eyes and scream as the first lash hits my back, splitting my skin and making me bleed.

“He isn’t yours!” the leader. “He is mine.”

“Who?” I cry out as the second lash hits me.

“CJ,” she hisses. “Who do you think, little slut?”

“What?” I cry out and then close my eyes against the third lash. My wounds are healing instantly, but it doesn’t stop the pain.

“Little slut thinks she can come here and take what’s mine?”

The fourth lash strikes me, and I scream again, the sound raw and desperate. The witches’ cackles echo in my ears, their malicious glee grating on my nerves. The brand on my chest glows with a sickening heat, drawing strength from me like a leech. It was never meant to drain William. It was draining me. That’s why my magic is so weak. These bitches branded me and waited for their moment.

“He will never be yours,” I grit out, panting heavily as the fifth lash strikes my back. The pain is excruciating, but I refuse to give them the satisfaction of seeing me crumble. “He doesn’t even know your name.”

The leader of the witches lets out a harsh laugh. “He moaned it loud enough when we were fucking the other night,” she hisses.

Another lash lands on my back, and I bite my lip to stifle a scream. Blood trickles down my skin, the wounds healing almost as quickly as they are inflicted, but the agony remains. “Liar,” I shout. “He wouldn’t touch you!”

Struggling against the bonds, I know I can’t get away. The brand is taking my magic and probably giving it to these witch-bitches. I clench my jaw and focus on the strange sensation vibrating beneath my skin. The brand is burning hotter, but it’s not just pain; it’s alive. It writhes like a serpent under my flesh, coiling around my essence, trying to constrict it. But I won’t let it. I won’t let them claim me or break me.

With each lash, the sensation grows stronger, a writhing darkness that absorbs the pain and transforms it into something else. Something powerful. My defensive magic has always been reactive, protective, but this... this is different. This is feral, primal, born of rage and agony.

And it is separate. It is new.

Or very, very old, lying dormant in my blood.

I take a deep breath, focusing on the dark energy coiling within me. The next strike lands, but this time, instead of screaming, I laugh. It’s a harsh, bitter sound that echoes through the courtyard, cutting through the chaos of the fight. The witches pause, taken aback by my reaction.

“You think you can break me?” I hiss, my voice laced with venom. “You’re going to have to try harder.”

“Issy!” CJ’s deep roar reaches my ears through the cacophony of the battle raging all around us.

The witch’s leader sneers, “He can’t save you now, little slut. You’re ours.”

She raises her hand again, black magic crackling at her fingertips.

I gasp as lightning shoots through my body, setting every nerve ending on fire.

“Issy!”

I turn my head to see that CJ is barrelling towards me, crashing through creature after creature, ripping them to shreds simply for getting in his way. I don’t know why he can’t teleport, but I’m guessing it has something to do with whatever magic is causing this rage that seems to have descended on everyone except me.

“No!” the lead witch shrieks, and with a blast of magic filled with enough magic to bring me to my knees, I suddenly find myself in silence, the noise of the battle has turned to silence, and the air around me has turned pitch black and filled with malevolence.