Page 14 of Malicent (Seven Devils #1)

I can’t stop my gaze from dropping, tracking every swirl of the design, every curve of her bare skin—

Wait.

No, that’s not mine.

Kalix.

I flick a glance at him from the corner of my eye, already knowing what I’ll find.

He’s staring, completely unblinking. His entire focus is pinned on Iris’s exposed back.

Ignoring his attempt at burning the image into his mind, I return my attention to the two witches.

Millicent trails her eyes over the markings, her expression shifting to something close to awe and intrigue. “These are impressive,” she acknowledges, her voice carrying an edge of respect. “What is your magic?”

I’m surprised Millicent is even being civil. Then again, Iris is another witch. That must make her worthy of respect in Millicent’s fucked up hierarchy of human worth.

Iris slides her straps back up, securing her overalls once again. Her smile widens, beaming under the compliment.

“Necromancer,” she announces, as if that alone explains everything, “Here, I mostly work in the lab as more of…a biologist—a chemist of sorts! The boys bring me specimens, and I test them.”

Felix leans back, smirking.

“She dissects them.”

Iris waves a dismissive hand, ignores him entirely.

“I’m trying to figure out what the North is up to, what exactly they’re creating, and what the source is.”

She speaks faster now, her nerdy excitement creeping into every word.

Millicent’s brow lifts. “A necromancer? Do you have a bunch of beasts hidden somewhere?”

Iris’s eyes light up, and she nods enthusiastically.

“Once upon a time, yes, but not so often anymore. I mostly help with tragic accidents when animals are hurt. I still get the itch to make creatures, but they need to be fed, and that’s…not practical here.”

Felix clears his throat.

“Yes, we definitely don’t need your man-eating abominations roaming the castle.”

Iris barely acknowledges him, still grinning, until—

Tyran ducks just in time as a grape sails past his head. His grin widens.

“We appreciate your restraint, you closeted psycho.”

Iris rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, instead leaning back and reaching for her wine.

“Now poor Kalix must feel neglected. You two can chat forever after dinner.”

Kalix snorts and rests his elbows on the table, turning his attention over to Millicent.

“I am Kalix, captain of the guard. I work in the field—creature killing, location investigations, and interrogations.”

The light from the massive chandelier above glints off the silver rings adorning his fingers as he laces them together.

Millicent’s expression shifts instantly, her face morphing into an impassive, dismissive stare.

“No magic, then?”

Her tone is flat, uninterested, like she’s already decided he has no worth.

I feel my jaw tighten.

Typical.

Her kind has no care for humans outside of breeding or blood sacrifices.

Kalix, however, does not miss a beat.

“No, suppose not.” His smirk curves slow and deliberate. “If Cage and I both had magic, what use would you have?”

His condescension sinks into the air.

Millicent’s eyes narrow, the sharp retort already forming on her tongue.

Felix, ever the peacekeeper, throws his hands up like a man warding off an angry bear.

“You both are exceptional in your own ways!”

Across the table, Iris stifles a giggle behind her wine glass. The tension still lingers, but I seize the moment to regain control.

“We will all need to work together . Out there, bickering will get one of you killed.”

I let the words sink in, my gaze sweeping across the table before I finally settle on Millicent, thrumming my fingers on the table.

“Each player here has a role and a purpose, Millicent.”

My eyes find hers, pinning her in place. Her shoulders tense.

Good.

“Between trips, we prepare. You will assist Iris. Or Kalix.”

Her posture stiffens further. Someone must not like being told what to do.

That will change.

Dinner continues around me, Kalix pestering Iris, occasionally lobbing strawberries at her like some child. She throws half-hearted threats between sips of wine.

Felix, now deep into his third glass, snickers, inserting himself into whatever conversation catches his attention.

I let the noise fade into the background, as I’m focused on her. Between bites of food, I study Millicent. I cannot quite place her.

It’s instinct to categorize people, to define them by what they were and where they came from.

Yet, she doesn’t fit, not yet. It feels like I’ve known her for years. This is the same way I once knew Nora—the same way I knew the dungeons beneath her beloved coven.

I can still smell them: the damp earth and copper tang of blood saturating the air the deeper I went.

It was an odd scent, a fusion of decay and ritual, of history and horror, thick enough that it clung to your skin long after leaving.

I swear I still inhale it sometimes when I wake from memories that chased me like desperate souls clawing their way from judgment at the gates of hell.

Now there’s her: devoid of emotion one moment and running her mouth the next. And then silent.

Fitting.

A Le Strange witch would only know how to feel hatred and anger.

Iris kicks Kalix’s shin under the table.

His knee jerks instinctively, slamming into the underside of the table. Dishes rattle, silverware clinks loudly against porcelain, and Felix and Millicent jolt.

Felix lets out a sharp yelp as his bottle of wine wobbles dangerously, nearly tipping.

His entire body lunges, hands outstretched. He manages to catch it.

After a deep sigh of relief, he cradles the bottle to his chest, clutching it like a mother nursing a child. The moment is so absurd that under different circumstances, I might have smirked.

Instead, I take advantage of the small window the chaos has created.

She’s off guard. I know it’s wrong, but the need to get inside her mind is too strong. I need to figure her out. I need to learn who she really is. Who is she beneath this emotionless mask?

Or is this who she is now?

I don’t like surprises, and it aggravates me that this is the first time in my long life I have been unable to read someone. She isn’t the girl I knew. The smiling, laughing, expressive Millicent from years ago is gone.

Dead.

I had mourned her. I had believed her lost forever: the Millicent I knew and loved, my very first friend. This thing sitting at the table, carrying her face, her voice, her form…

She is not her.

I focus, reaching for her mind. I imagine peeling back the layers, pushing past the barriers, sifting through the void.

And I strike a fortress of ice, sharp and jagged. I’ve seen mental defenses before, but the emptiness shocks me.

Somewhere in my focus, I realize I’m staring at her.

And she knows. The black widow herself has caught me in her web. Across the table, her cavernous ocean eyes lock on to mine, flickering with realization. She isn’t just blocking me. She’s watching. Waiting.

And then…a squeeze. It’s subtle. It’s not an attack or a violent expulsion from her mind. It’s uncomfortable.

A warning.

There’s something in it, something that lures me instead of repelling me. A sensation just on the edge of pain, like the pull of a hook lodged beneath my skin, drawing me into the depths of her gaze.

I understand now. I understand why moths fly into fire and perish: because it is beautiful. Even knowing the danger, the warmth still calls.

A breath.

On the inhale, my spine bends backward, too far.

On the exhale, I’m bent even further, my body arching unnaturally over the chair, my muscles shaking violently.

Kalix shoots to his feet.

“What the fuck!” His voice cuts through the room. His gaze immediately snaps to Millicent.

I hear his chair scrape, feeling the shift in the wind as he moves toward her.

I’m still shaking off the last remnants of her hold. Her power coils around my body like an anaconda, tightening until my nerves fire off erratically. My muscles jerk beneath her influence.

She does have some bite to her .

I’m done with this performance.

My mind recoils from her grasp, and in a single breath, I shatter the connection and break free from the tangles of her web. My consciousness snaps back into place, and my magic settles inside me once more.

I roll my neck and shoulders, stretching out the last of the tension as I sit up. I keep my expression blank.

If she’s expecting fear, awe, or even grudging respect, she won’t get it. And that’s what annoys me.

Not seeing her disappointed reaction frustrates me more than the struggle. Irritation gives way to curiosity and then amusement.

Iris is wrapped around Kalix’s legs like a damn koala, half-seated on the floor, arms and legs locked around him in an effort to keep him from lunging.

Felix chuckles, finally pushing to his feet. His crown tilts slightly from how long he’s been lounging.

“Well, I am now too drunk for this circus of idiots.”

His heated red cheeks betray the effects of an emptied wine bottle.

“Can we not assault one another?” He sweeps a look around the room like a disappointed father addressing his unruly children.

“The bitch started it!” Kalix sneers, jabbing a finger at Millicent.

Iris pinches his leg, hard.

“ Ow. You little—”

Kalix hisses, glaring down at her.

Annoyed with her antics, he reaches down, yanking her off his legs with ease. She lets out a string of expletives, thrashing in his grip, but he hauls her over his broad shoulder like she weighs nothing.

“Kalix, put me down!”

Her roar is fierce, except it sounds more like an angry lion cub challenging the alpha of the pack.

Kalix’s hand comes down in a sharp smack against her rear.

“Adults are talking, Rainbow.”

Iris lets out a startled squeak, freezing for half a second before resuming her flailing.

Eventually, she gives up, pouting like a child as she pushes, propping herself up on his back, chin resting on his shoulder. She waves lazily at the rest of us.

“Well, goodnight, guys! Millicent, come by my lab anytime! Nice to have another witch around.”

She smiles warmly despite her predicament.

Kalix scoffs, placing his free hand on his hip.

“Yeah, so nice. I’m honestly so overjoyed.” His voice is drenched in sarcasm.

Felix steps in beside him, beaming.

“I knew you would be!”

He reaches up, brushing a few strands of Iris’s hair out of her face.

Kalix’s attention shifts immediately, eyes narrowing on Felix.

“What, are you a hairstylist now?”

His grumbling is still audible as they finally leave the room. Felix’s smirk lingers. He knows how to get around him.

I exhale slowly, finally returning my focus to Millicent.

She stands, unbothered. “I believe I can find my room on my own.”

Her confidence doesn’t miss a beat.

I rise as well, mirroring her.

“One can only hope your brain isn’t so rotted that you’re capable of such a small task. If I had to take you everywhere, I really would truly be babysitting a grown woman, wouldn’t I?”

The irritation slips into my tone, sharper than I intended. I don’t wait for her response. Instead, I turn and leave, letting the conversation end on my own terms.

I know where she goes. I’ve warded the castle’s key points, my magic laced into every entryway, every hallway, and every room.

I don’t need to physically follow her to track her. Let her try something. I welcome the excuse to crush her under my boot—to shatter that self-righteous attitude.

I’ll wait.