Page 50 of Gemini Hunted (Dark Witch Academy #5)

Zara

“Looks like trouble,” Draco Mars says shortly. “Fokk.”

“Tell me about it.” I bunch together with my guys—Lucius on one side, Neo on the other—and peer into the spooky, cobwebby hole that yawns in the tunnel floor.

The echoing coil of the catacombs lurks behind us, twisting like intestines in a human gut. We navigated that shit with our flashlights, our shifty noses, and Mal’s location spell leading us through the labyrinth like the thread in that Greek myth about Theseus and the Minotaur.

But these catacombs are vast, and winding our way through them took longer than I liked.

Way longer.

Last time we checked, the hands on Mal’s wristwatch were both pointing straight up.

Midnight.

The witching hour.

Thanks to the handy stash of granola bars and bottled water in Mallory’s well-stocked hall monitor backpack, we’re still functional.

But this whole time, I really haven’t liked the idea of a zombie werewolf sealed in a sarcophagus back there, a werewolf whose whole presence on the island we still can’t explain, maybe rising and pushing the heavy stone lid aside—

“Yeesh.” Picking up the gruesome thought I must be broadcasting on all frequencies, Neo cuddles the kitten against his chest and tightens his arm around my waist. “We’re gonna lay that poor werewolf properly to rest, babe, like with holy water and an actual priest. We just need to ace our finals first.”

Not only pass them. But ace them.

That’s so Neo.

“We will, First Boy.” I nuzzle his warm cheek, all raspy with stubble. Then I stroke the kitten’s sleek white head—we gotta name her, but we’ve been a little busy—and drop a kiss between her tiny tufted ears for luck.

The kitten blinks up at me with earnest green eyes. Very much like Neo’s.

Finally, I entrust our new pet to our bookworm’s gentle hands and step forward with a sigh. “Gimme that flashlight, will you, Lucius?”

My headmaster passes it over without comment.

With all our beams converging on that hole like a police spotlight, his sherry-gold eyes are fixed there too with a pensive look I have no problem deciphering.

This tunnel led us straight to it, like this is where we’re meant to go.

And there’s a solid wall behind it, so we aren’t going any farther.

But there’s a narrow staircase beside us (also very dark and cobwebby) burrowed into the wall leading up.

Zephyr is already standing with one boot on the bottom stair, leaning into the pitch-black passage in a way that makes me uneasy.

He hasn’t said a word since Mordred double-dicked me.

Since I fucked his second cousin (once removed) without asking.

My guys and I have an understanding that I can grow the harem, because that’s a queen thing, and it’s good for the witching world when I do.

Still, Zephyr could have objected to me fucking his cousin—I wasn’t hiding it, and I would’ve listened—but he didn’t.

However, it’s the historical scheming-to-usurp-Zephyr’s-throne baggage, and not the tenuous blood tie between them, that’s the real issue.

Zephyr hasn’t spoken to V since the fuckfest either. Now I’m really hoping our medically necessary but mind-blowing threesome with the demon hasn’t totally shattered the fragile new alliance between the Dark Fae King and the Goblin King.

“Xhevith,” Zephyr breathes, in a voice deep with longing. “By the moon, my dragon is near. I can sense him. Surely this means Ash and Ronin and Maxim are also near, where I bade them to be.”

“Well, the library’s that way for sure.” Mallory frowns dubiously at the stairs. “I can, you know, feel my sweater up there. And yeah, it’s really close. But I think the Vault might be…”

“Down here,” I agree with a sigh, hunkering down beside the shaft. “I think so too.”

Mallory’s feeling the pull of her personal item, but I’m feeling the pull of the Vault. Ever since Mordred and V and I hooked up, I’ve sensed the Horn of Ceres in that messenger bag brooding like a sentient presence, its power humming in my blood like a beehive.

The Horn wants to go down .

Wary, I aim my flashlight into the shaft. A few feet below, the beam dances over an expanse of dark water, black as ink.

Yay.

“Well, as you’ll recall, I’ve been in the Vault before.

I went in the front door, from the cathedral crypt near the faculty offices.

” Vasili levitates over the shaft and alights on the far side, then leans warily to peer in.

“I can confirm there is a sort of underground spring in the Vault. Once you disarm the ossification spell on the front door, of course.”

“As you well know, my dear, I typically prefer not to be reminded of your hair-raising, Codex-skirting indiscretions,” Lucius murmurs, giving V a reproachful look.

“But in this case, the fact that you’ve been in the Vault—albeit without my permission—is useful.

Even I’ve never been allowed inside by the Dean. ”

Vasili glances up at him with a smirk. “I do have my uses, darling. I’m so pleased to hear you admit it.”

Under his goatee, Lucius’ face turns ruddy. He clears his throat and glances self-consciously at the students he’s not fucking—Mal and her guys.

I’d normally enjoy the spectacle of V teasing our headmaster to make him blush. But right now? I’m kinda distracted.

I really don’t like what I’m thinking—like, at all— but the Horn is humming so loud in my head I can barely hear anything else. So I know what I need to do.

Now I just need to convince the others.

My gaze shifts past Lucius’ embarrassed face and Neo’s—blinking and myopic without his glasses, but still one hundred percent beside me—to assess the others.

Zephyr is clearly yearning for his dragon and our absent mates. So I can work with that, as long as he thinks I’m safe.

Seemingly recovered from his recent bout of mating fever, Mordred is sitting right on the edge of the shaft, heedless of the cobwebs and any creepy-crawly inhabitants, leaning way forward to peer into the hole with interest.

“Pretty deep in there, for real,” he comments, looking like he wants to hop right in. “And it’s seawater.”

He’ll do what V tells him, since he won’t have a choice, due to that whole summoning bond. Even if I’m not comfortable with the idea of compelling the guy.

A safe distance back from the edge, Mal is crouched and burrowing through the grimoires in her book-stuffed backpack, while Draco and Jae loom over her like gargoyles, both fiercely protective. They’ll go where she tells them, so she’s one of those I need to convince.

Along with my alphas.

They’ll be the ones who cause problems.

I clear my throat and summon my queen voice.

“The front door of the Academy Vault is where Cleo and her Villa Tiberius goon squad gotta be lying in wait. They know we have the Horn, and they know we need to get in. But if we slip in the back, with the Horn, then this challenge is in the bag. We win, they lose, and Cleo’s whole ‘ I’m the superior witch’ claim is totally discredited. ”

“I’m not at all certain I like where this is going,” Lucius mutters.

“C’mon, Teach. This is what you trained me for, remember?” I wink and pass the flashlight back to my worried headmaster, then circle around behind Neo to unzip his backpack.

This morning on the yacht, I thought it was overkill to pack a portable dive lung and mini scuba tank with our gear, and I said so. But our bookworm pointed out that Ronin and I already needed to dive once, and Cleo’s a sea dragon, and did we really want to give her the whole ocean uncontested.

When I pull out the skinny neon cylinder of the mini scuba tank, no longer than my forearm, Vasili’s eyes narrow dangerously. “I suppose you imagine you’re going into that shaft alone, little queen.”

“Ronin isn’t here to dive with me.” I know arguing with him is rarely a good idea, but this is one of those times when I gotta. “No one else here is a certified diver, so—”

“I’m one,” Draco volunteers unexpectedly, with a scowl. “But I will not leave Mallory.”

Mallory abandons her industrious beavering through her backpack and rises to her feet, with a spellbook clasped in her skinny arms and a determined expression stamped on her freckled face.

“I’m not carrying the Horn,” Mal says reasonably, “so I’m not the one in danger. Draco, if she has extra gear, I really think you should go with Zara. I mean, we are members of her harem, even if only temporarily, so—”

“I’m a member of your harem,” Draco growls at her, deep in his powerful chest, in a way that tells me he does not consider himself to be also in my harem, no matter what Mal and I hastily agreed so we won’t get disqualified from the contest for working together.

Well, that makes two of us. I don’t consider Draco to be a member of my harem either.

I eye the Icelandic warlock—reportedly a made man in the Mars clan mafia and definitely psychotic, whatever else he might be.

I imagine swimming through the dark tight confines of an underground tunnel with that sociopath lurking behind me.

Then I try to think of a diplomatic excuse for saying gosh thanks but no thanks to Mallory’s well-meant offer.

Before I can muster the words, the vast darkness of the catacombs behind me echoes with a low sinister chuckle.

Every hair on my body rises to stand straight on end. My horrified brain shoots straight to the zombie werewolf rising scenario.

But wait. No. That’s a hyena chuckle.

Still distant.

But not distant enough.

Lucius twists toward the noise. He growls and his eyes glow red.

Since he’s still shirtless and wearing Ronin’s leather pants, his powerful body looks fucking savage, like the wolf king he is.

Jae echoes his growl and drops to a crouch.

Jae’s hands get all gnarly and curling black talons—sharp as box cutters—sprout from his twisted fingers.

I’m honestly impressed. Mal’s werewolf is like a cross between Edward Scissorhands and Freddy Krueger.