Page 13 of Illusory (The Marked Saga #8)

As promised, Tessa returned later that day with a generous stack of Reaper codices, courtesy of the Macarthur family library, and for once, they appeared to be written in plain English which meant they wouldn’t require an entire translation team just to read the opening paragraph. All I needed was a little bit of time and a whole lot of determination and I’d be porting in and out of Temple in no time.

At least that was what I kept telling myself.

The last thing I wanted to do was board Tessa’s negativity train. If I had any chance of making it out of this in one piece, I needed to stay positive. Well, that, and to continue working my butt off. I, of all people, knew I wasn’t going to win any wars with just my good attitude. I needed all the things to back it up. I had to be faster and stronger and in better control of my magic and my abilities. And most importantly, I needed to play smarter than them—to hold my cards so close to my heart that they’d never see me coming.

With my spirits still bolstered and my mind on the endgame, I’d trained doubly hard from breakfast until late afternoon, alternating between sparring with Mother Dearest and then working on my magic with Caleb. With the news of the Roderick sisters heading back to town, Jaqueline had been particularly adamant that I finally sit down and figure out what my elemental affinities were, once and for all.

Most Anakim were born with an affinity for a particular element—fire, water, earth, air, metal, ether, lunar, spirit, and energy—though some were born with more than one. Because I was Nephilim, Jaqueline had this wild theory that I might be born with all of them, so she’d asked Caleb to bring over some of the Owens’ Caster Grimoires so that I could try my hand at a few different spells from his family’s repertoire and see if anything stuck.

While Jaqueline was more than eager to test her theory out, I was mostly just uneasy about the whole thing. Having an affinity to that many elements at once seemed like a recipe for chaos. Especially when I was involved. But of course, I’d agreed to do it anyway. Mostly just to get out of training with her.

Luckily for me, my selfish endeavor turned out to be an enlightening one.

Through Caleb’s vast magical knowledge, I’d learned all sorts of interesting things about the nine elements, and even a few things about my own abilities. For instance, I’d learned that my ability to freeze time actually stemmed from my command of the ether element—something that was innate in all Reapers. The fact that I’d been able to wield that element without any effort or training meant that it was innate in me, too. A fact that might serve me well when it came time to learn how to teleport.

Then there was my affinity for energy , which finally explained my prior ‘issues’ with light bulbs—mainly the way they’d constantly flicker or explode whenever I got overly upset. Apparently, that element was innate in all Slayers, though it usually only manifested through the energy flow within your body. Basically, the thing that put the unhuman force behind a Slayer’s hit. But it was more than that. According to Caleb, mastering the element of energy would eventually extend to commanding the energy around me—including an opponent’s own inner force—essentially allowing me to turn their own body against them.

As fascinating as it all was to delve into, those elements hadn’t exactly come as a surprise to either of us since I’d already manifested both of them in the past. The real question on everyone’s mind was, would I be able to manifest any of the other elements? And if so, at what cost?

“This is actually really basic stuff,” said Caleb as he set a white pillar candle down on the floor between us. “But if you have any fire magic in you, you should be able to call it up and spark the wick.”

“Spark the wick?” My forehead lined with confusion as I examined the haughty smirk on his face. “Like with my mind?” Obviously, he didn’t mean that .

“Well, yes and no. It’s kind of hard to describe.”

I gave him a frustrated look. “Pretty sure it’s one or the other, Caleb.”

“Not when it comes to magic.” He ran his hand through his copper hair as he sat crossed legged in front of me like we were about to perform a séance together. “It’s like flexing a muscle inside your mind. You need to be focused on your intent, but it’s deeper than just thought. It’s connecting to the source, to a feeling in and around you, and then manifesting it—just like you did when you connected with ether and energy.”

“Except that I didn’t really do anything with either of those elements,” I argued, feeling skeptical and unsure of what I was supposed to be doing. “They sort of just happened.”

“Well, if you have an affinity to fire, this will come just as naturally.”

I let that sit with me for a second.

Not having anything to lose by trying, I shrugged my shoulders and then stared down at the candle wick, squinting hard as I tried to focus my mind. Only I wasn’t really sure what I was supposed to be focusing on to begin with. Was I supposed to be thinking about fire in general, or just the actual candle in front of me? Or maybe I was supposed to be, I don’t know…thinking hotly ? Like, feel the heat and be one with the wick?

The harder I thought about it, the more agitated I felt.

“I don’t think it’s working.” I decided, frowning down at the unlit candle and then back up at Caleb. “Maybe we should move on to the next element.”

Laughter rumbled out of him as he shook his head. “Maybe you should give it more than five seconds.”

Pretty sure I did , I thought dryly as I tried to keep the petulant look from my face when I stared back down at the candle. “Am I supposed to be focusing on the actual candle or just fire as a whole?”

“Neither,” he said as he pulled over his grimoire and cracked it open.

I waited for him to elaborate and then snapped when he didn’t. “Are you purposely trying to be vague?”

“Your problem is you’re thinking too much and not feeling enough,” he answered distractedly as he flipped through the pages, searching for something specific. “Magic can’t be forced, Blackburn. It has to be invited in. Its purpose—your intent—needs to be clear in your mind.” He paused on a page and scanned the text. “Here. Try this incantation,” he suggested and then turned the book around so that the short passage of text was facing me.

I looked down at where his finger was pointing and read the two words scribbled there. “ Ignire flamma ?”

Hardly the miracle fix I was expecting.

“Reciting incantations can help focus your mind on the source you’re trying to connect to.” He shut the grimoire and pulled the book back beside himself. “Close your eyes,” he instructed suddenly and already I didn’t like the sound of this.

I arched my brow at him.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, leaning forward.

“I mean—”

“Just close your eyes, Blackburn.”

Blowing out a breath of air, I closed my eyes and waited, trying and failing not to feel extremely awkward.

“Ignire flamma,” he said, his voice low and self-assured. “Say it.”

“Ignire flamma,” I repeated, sounding flat and bored by the whole thing. I cracked my left eye open to peek at the wick—just in case by some miracle it had actually worked.

It hadn’t.

“Again,” he ordered. “And don’t open your eyes again or it’ll pull you out of focus. Keep repeating the incantation until the words are blurring together. Let it relax your mind. Envision the ember igniting in your mind’s eye, the flame taking shape—the fire responding to your intention.”

Relaxing my expression and the tension in my shoulders, I cleared my mind and focused on his instructions, repeating the two words over and over again until the incantation rang from my lips like a low rumbling hum. Then I envisioned the candle—the flame forming in my mind. I could see the orange and red hues lighting the shadows around it, feel the heat against my skin as the flicker of fire danced against the wick, seemingly bending to my will.

I held the image in my mind, watching it come alive and then orchestrating it like a symphony of light that only I had the power to control. The longer I played with it, the realer it felt, as though it were actually—

“You’re doing it,” hissed Caleb, the excitement in his tone jolting me out of my trance.

My eyes popped open and landed on the candle. The lit candle. I stared at it unflinching, certain that if I so much as blinked at it, the flame would disappear.

Holy fuck. I actually did it. On purpose .

Unfortunately, my unblinking awe was abruptly destroyed by a crushing wave of exhaustion that slammed into my body like a wrecking ball from hell, draining my energy and turning every muscle in my body to jelly.

My palms shot down against the floor before me, barely having enough time to brace myself enough to stop my body from crumbling to the ground like waste.

“Wha—what’s happening to me?” I asked as an icy chill rolled over me.

“What’s happening is you just invoked your affinity for fire. Thanks to me, of course,” he added smugly as he brushed imaginary lint from his shoulders.

If I’d had enough energy to do it, I would have bopped him in the forehead…or at least rolled my eyes at him. “I got that part, but why do I feel like I just got hit by a truck? I think…I think something’s wrong,” I said, trying not to panic and overreact while simultaneously failing at it miserably.

Caleb chuckled as though I were being funny. “You’re fine, Blackburn. You just have the bends ,” he answered matter-of-factly, as though that was supposed to make me feel better.

“The bends? What the hell are the bends?”

“It’s kind of like a magic-induced flu. It’s completely normal. Using innate magic can be pretty taxing on your body—especially at the beginning,” he explained with the kind of smirk that let me know he didn’t have this particular problem when he used his magic. “Because your body gets drained so easily, it doesn’t really know how to metabolize all the extra nitrogen you produce when calling up your magic. It gets better with practice, though. You just need to rest up and give your magic some time to recharge.”

“Oh. Okay. Rest up. Right. Got it.” I breathed a sigh of relief at the news that I wasn’t spontaneously dying on my dining room floor, but it did nothing to ease the fatigue or aches still ravaging my body. Unable to keep fighting the weighty pull, I succumbed to gravity and hit the floor.

Magic-induced or not, this was definitely unlike any flu I’d ever felt before. Every bone and muscle in my body throbbed as though I’d just run a 10K marathon and my head felt like thunder was cracking inside my skull. Even my blood seemed to be screaming out in pain.

“So, uh, what’s the charge time for this kind of magic anyway?” I asked him, needing a ballpark figure for how long I would be feeling like this.

“It depends,” he said vaguely, eyeing me as I rolled into the fetal position. “Could be anywhere from a few minutes to a few hours.”

“A few hours?” I shrieked. That was completely unacceptable.

“At most a day,” he went on, making the matter even worse.

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“If it’s any consolation, it won’t always be like this,” he said, his voice rising with forced enthusiasm. “The longer you use your ability and practice, the less taxing it becomes on your body.”

That wasn’t the kind of consolation I was looking for. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly have the luxury of time at the moment.” Not today and probably not anywhere in the near future either.

“Right.” He paused. “You can always try drawing from another source of power to recharge in a pinch,” he added warily, as though he weren’t sure whether he should be sharing that bit of information with me.

I craned my head to look up at him, my interest piqued. “What kind of source?”

“Usually from another Supe—preferably someone very powerful. Not that I’m suggesting you do that,” he quickly clarified. “Siphoning isn’t an easy skill to pick up. It takes time to learn how to draw from another being’s energy source without, you know, accidently draining them.”

Draining them? Jesus. Knowing my luck…

Well, there went that plan.

I looked down at trembling hands and then shook my head. “If this is what using fire magic does to me, I think I’ll stick to never using it again.”

It seemed like an easy enough solution to a problem I really didn’t have time to deal with right now. In fact, something told me it would be best to put a cease and desist on all of the elements until I knew exactly what I was getting myself into and had the proper time to dedicate to each of them.

“Yeah…I don’t think that’s really going to be an option anymore,” he informed, his voice tight.

My gaze snapped to his and then narrowed. “What do you mean?”

There was a long pause before he answered. “Once you invoke an element, it’s kind of like opening a door that can’t be closed again. The ability can pretty much manifest at any time, especially when you’re under duress.”

I stared at him, my mind processing the words he had just spoken “I’m always under duress, Caleb! Are you telling me that instead of accidently blowing up a few light bulbs here and there, I’m going to start lighting actual fires all over the place instead?”

“No.” He paused briefly. “I’m saying it’s a possibility.”

My stomach churned with a rogue wave of nausea. “Well, how do I make sure that doesn’t happen?”

“The only real way to put a leash on it is to learn to control it. The more you practice, the stronger your ability becomes and the less likely you’ll be to accidently set the house on fire the next time you get ticked off about something. Magic is tied to our emotions and an erratic mind will almost always produce erratic magic.”

“For fuck’s sake, Caleb. Don’t you think this is something you should have told me about beforehand? Like before I invoked the ability?” My mind was already reeling from the implications of his words. “What if I start shooting fireballs out my eyes the next time I get pissed off at someone?”

“Maybe try taking up some yoga and meditation,” he suggested coyly.

“Caleb!”

“I’m kidding, Blackburn, relax,” he said, his palms up as if to halt the firing squad. “Besides, you have me. I’ll help you practice as much as you want. Twice a day if you need me to.”

“That’s really nice and all but you still should have given me a heads up.”

“Hey, in my defense, I thought you knew. I told your mother it wasn’t a good idea to do this with everything you have going on when she called me, but she said you guys knew what you were doing and to mind my business.” His cheeks picked up color, like he was embarrassed to have been scolded by Jaqueline. “I was just trying to be a good friend and do what I thought you asked me to do.”

My anger simmered down at his words. Frankly, I was too exhausted to keep up the emotion anyway, but mostly because I knew Caleb well enough to know that he’d only been trying to help me. That his intentions were nothing but pure. Whether it was conjuring up charms for me, exorcising demons at All Saints or spelling prison cells for my vampire boyfriends, Caleb had always had my back.

Despite his cocky attitude and jock persona, Caleb was one of the real ones and I knew he’d never let me down. At least never on purpose.

Jaqueline, on the other hand, would not be getting off as easily. Between her masochistic training sessions and random disappearing acts throughout my life, this was just about the last straw for her. Having me invoke elemental magic when I had zero time to put into mastering it was just plain dangerous.

One thing was for sure. That psychopath was going to have some serious explaining to do…just as soon as I figured out a way to get my spent ass off the dining room floor.

* * *

Caleb left for hockey practice shortly after helping me over to the living room, leaving me with clear instructions to rest up and give my magic time to recharge.

On any other day, I would have basked in the chance to spend the day being roadkill on the couch, but with the Roderick sister’s heading into town any day, the dial on the pressure cooker had been turned all the way up. I needed to be ready, and I needed that damn book, and I really couldn’t afford to waste an entire day sitting on the couch doing nothing.

Not to mention the fact that every time I tried to close my eyes and rest, all I could think about was Nikki and her damned baby and the growing urge I had to go to her.

Clearly, I was far sicker than even Caleb knew.

What I needed was a pick-me-up; a way to heal quickly without having to unplug from the rest of the world or energy-drain another Supe, and there was only one way I knew to do that.

Desperate for relief, I pried myself off the couch and took off in search of Gabriel. If Revenant’s blood could bring people back from the brink of death, surely it could help with a little magical flu. I wouldn’t need much. Just enough to help ease the pain and get on with my day.

Gripping the banister, I gingerly made my way down the basement stairs, careful not to miss a step and accidentally tumble over my already shaky legs. Between the music blasting at full volume and my heart jackhammering between my ears, I could barely manage to hear my own thoughts. Important thoughts. Thoughts that were telling me to get back upstairs and wait it out like Caleb told me too. That this was a bad idea.

That I needed to just deal with the pain and take the loss.

Deciding to listen to my gut for once, I stepped down onto the bottom landing and then quickly turned around to go back the same way I’d come just as the music cut to a deafening silence.

My breathing stalled in my chest.

“What are you doing down here?” asked Trace, his voice a deep baritone scraping up the back of my neck like fingernails. My eyes veered to the prison cell from over my shoulder, searching frantically through the darkness for his familiar form, but all I saw was pitch black nothingness.

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” I said, turning around slowly. “I, uh—”

“You need to leave.”

His icy words slashed at my insides, but I tried not to let the pain show on my face when my eyes finally found him. He was standing against the concrete wall at the far end of the cell, his face swathed in shadows that almost seemed to be dancing with his expression.

“I was just looking for Gabriel,” I said and then gestured toward Gabriel’s section of the basement. Except there was no Gabriel to be found. A nervous twitch needled my stomach, making me feel queasy. “W-where’s Gabriel?”

“Not here.” His clipped tone sent another prickle of fear down my back.

Yep . Gabriel definitely wasn’t there, and I was definitely alone with a brand-new vampire who hated me. This was all around a terrible scenario and the perfect time for my fight or flight instincts to kick in.

Except they didn’t.

Instead, I just stood there, paralyzed in fear, staring at the spot Gabriel was supposed to be in but clearly wasn’t.

“Why don’t you do us both a favor and go find him. Right now ,” he all but snarled at me, his voice so deep and sharp that it felt like shrapnel stabbing into my skin.

Yes. Find Gabriel . That was exactly what I needed to do. Right that instant.

…Except my stupid feet still weren’t doing anything useful.

“Did you hear me?” he snapped, drawing my eyes back to him. “Get the fuck out of here, Jemma. Now!” he barked out the last part so forcefully that it nearly knocked me off my stupid, unmoving feet.

Tears prickled the corners of my eyes as I stared at him, mouth agape, heart pounding, but my feet finally moving. Albeit backwards, but at least they were working.

How could he talk to me like that? How could he look at me with such utter disdain and vile hatred? I was just trying to save his life. I was just—

And then, as if in response to my heart desperately needing protection from his painful words, I remembered what Dominic had said to me last night. That Trace didn’t hate me. That he was simply afraid of hurting me.

Lord knew in that moment I wanted to believe that more than anything. Because the alternative was that he despised me. That he couldn’t stand the sight of me. That he’d never forgive me for what I had to do to save his life. And that was a far more agonizing fate than anything Trace could spew at me in that moment.

If Trace’s feelings for me really hadn’t changed and he was just keeping his distance from me because he was afraid to hurt me, then that meant that I was the one who had abandoned him when he needed me the most. And running from him? That only served to solidify what he already thought about himself. That he was dangerous. Bad . A monster capable of hurting me. The thought alone sent a serrated dagger through the core of my heart, and suddenly, walking away from him felt like a crime.

What I needed to do was to look him in the eyes and tell him that I still loved him too, and that he didn’t ever have to be afraid of hurting me. Because this was still Trace —my soulmate—not some homicidal maniac that I needed to be afraid of.

Halting my retreat, I lingered at the base of the stairs and stared at him, trying to work out the puzzle pieces into a shape that I was familiar with. Into a man that I recognized. Ignoring the tight ache in my chest and the slit-like glare of his eyes, I started to move my feet again—toward him.

That was my first mistake.

“You’re not going to chase me away this time,” I said and took another wobbly step toward him. “I’m not afraid of you, Trace. I love you and I know you love me too. You don’t have to push me away anymore,” I said as I continued trudging forward until I was standing directly in front of his cell. Heart on my sleeve. Eyes blurry from tears. “Please talk to me,” I pleaded as I reached up and gripped the bars with both my hands.

And that was my second mistake.

Fierce, azure-blue eyes snapped to my hand and suddenly he was standing right before me with only the prison bars separating us. Blackness bled out from his pupils, swallowing the color as though it were a living breathing entity that wanted to consume him from the inside out. Momentarily stupefied, my eyes followed his gaze to my left hand and then to my wrist—to the steady, nearly undiscernible pulse throbbing under my skin.

His next movement was a blur and suddenly, he had my wrist in a vicelike hold that threatened to snap my bone in two as he yanked me forward, driving me hard into the steel bars. The air left my lungs in a painful swoosh as my eyes widened at him in horror.

“Trace! Wait!” I shrieked, but a Revenant’s bloodlust waited for no one.

His fangs descended as quick as the strike of a matchstick and then they were plunging into my wrist, tearing into my flesh as though my skin were made of nothing more than a sheet of tissue paper.

I screamed out once, slamming my closed fist against his right shoulder, striking him through the bars to try to stop him, to jolt him back to reality, but it only made him clamp down on me harder. I raised my arm again, but it was already too late then.

The pain and fear had dissipated like smoke, consumed by the placating venom that was now firing its way through my veins. Subduing me. Soothing the terrified voice that had been screaming inside my head since the moment I descended those stairs.

A small, insignificant part of me knew there was still time to fight, but I didn’t have nearly enough strength to invoke any magic let alone the strength needed to put up a fight. The survival part of my brain required to accomplish such a feat had already lulled itself into a false sense of security. Even at my own peril. Even as I listened to the beastly rumbles sounding from deep within his chest and felt the warm slick of my own blood freely flowing down the length of my raised arm, all I could do was release the breath I’d been holding and relax against the bars.

That was the thing about Revenant bites. They were quite simply a Slayer’s one and only Achilles’ heel, and all the training and magic wielding of the world couldn’t hold a flame to the biology conspiring behind it. To what their bite was designed to do. It was their kiss of death meant to assuage your will to fight and then gently lull you toward your final dance. And it worked like a charm, every time.

I knew that more than anybody.

My sightline tightened at the corners as my legs became boneless beneath me and I collapsed, falling, tumbling, slipping deeper toward the threshold of no return, but somehow, I didn’t hit the ground.

In the vague periphery of my awareness, I could feel his other hand grasping my waist, holding me up. His hands were the only thing keeping me from hitting the ground then, pinning me instead against the bars, but I knew there was no affection or concern in his hold. I was merely the object of his feeding frenzy and not the girl he once knew and loved.

Craning my head, I looked at him through glassy eyes and choked out a sob. There was no sign of Trace in the fiend before me. No love in his eyes to remind him. No soulmate bond to temper him. Just predator against prey. Hunger against flesh. And I was as good as dead.

Not the worst way to go , I supposed, in the grand scheme of things. I’d danced this macabre dance with death countless times before and had always secretly wondered if it would one day prove to be my downfall, though in all honesty, I usually imagined it happening in the arms of Dominic. That he might one day unwittingly go too far, and that I’d simply just let him.

But this was nothing like me and Dominic. Nothing like the way he’d hold me, worship me in his arms as though I were the altar at which he prayed. The way he danced me toward the darkness, only skirting me to the edge of it before drawing me back into the safety of his light. Everything about Trace’s touch was different—rougher. Out of control. Feral and unchecked.

My lids fluttered closed, too weighty to keep open any longer.

How ironic that it should end like this after everything I went through to bring Trace back from the brink of death. Perhaps this was what I deserved for breaking his heart so many times. For allowing myself to fall in love with another man. For turning him into the thing he hated most in this world. It was almost a sort of poetic justice if I really thought about it. Well, for Trace anyway. Not so much for me.

My own deranged, muffled laughter was the last thing I heard before the darkness came to take me.