Page 49 of Malicent (Seven Devils #1)

Cage

“WHO CAN TELL ME THE signs of a host?” I lean back against my desk, surveying the rows of students in front of me. With the growing number of entity manifestations in civilians, revisiting the topic felt necessary; the mages need to be ready.

“Changes in eye color, personality, and increased aggression,” one of the younger mages offers quickly.

“Good. What else?”

“Early signs can include sudden illness, unexplained weight loss, and changes in appetite. In some cases, they may also develop an aversion to light,” a more seasoned student adds.

“Correct. Recently, new beings have begun manifesting within mortals. We don’t yet have names for them, or any true understanding of what they are. Iris believes what we’re seeing are only in their infant forms. We’ve yet to face the full strength of what they could become.”

The conversation with Iris hasn’t left me. I hate surprises, and the thing that burst from the Duke was surprise enough, but this? If Iris is right, that creature was just the beginning. The idea of something worse—something stronger—gnaws at me. How strong could these things get ?

That creature had two phases—an anomaly for sure. If the creature did end up powerful in its full form, the second form would have given us some trouble.

I grind my jaw. I can’t predict it. I can’t control how this situation will unfold. And that fact alone is driving me insane.

“Exercise caution when dealing with any suspected hosts. The last one Kalix and I encountered had two phases. Don’t assume a killing blow means the job is done.”

Quills scratch across parchment as my students dutifully take notes. I continue lecturing them, moving onto the varying incubation periods of different infectious entities as I round my desk, and then I step up to the massive blackboard. I write as I speak, expecting their full attention.

The room is a tiered, theater-style lecture hall; rows of seats rise in clean formation from the floor where I stand. Every student has a clear view of the board, meaning there are no excuses for distraction.

To ensure their focus, I maintain mental tethers with each of them. I don’t sift through every thought, not unless I must, but the cords keep me aware of their presence and alertness.

One of them wavers. I feel the fatigue before his head drops, the tether dimming as he begins to drift. I yank on the cord as I raise my brow.

A startled yelp erupts from behind me as Leviticus jerks upright, ripped from his half-slumber.

“Pay attention, Leviticus,” I say coldly, never bothering to turn around. The chalk continues to move under my hand, uninterrupted.

I set the chalk down and turn to face the class.

“Questions now.” It’s not a request but a command. I expect them to think—to use their damn brains to form coherent thoughts, not just sit there like dead weight when the floor opens to them.

Hands shoot up in abundance. Good. They know better by now. Before I can call on anyone, a low hissing sound fills the room. It grows louder, like metal protesting under intense heat. Then—

BOOM.

The steel doors at the back of the hall explode inward, crashing into the stone walls with a thunderous slam.

And there she is.

She’s pissed off, her sapphire eyes burning.

Hello, little witch.

She’s still in the thin black nightgown the healers dressed her in after Kalix’s sedative. A wave of satisfaction washes over me as I recognize my initial carved neatly into her chest. She healed beautifully.

My students lurch to their feet, rattled by the sudden intrusion and the very real threat in front of them: a witch. She’s the one who nearly leveled the ground two nights ago.

“Leave, and I will kill you all. Sit. Now.” Her voice is lethal, like the calm waters before a storm.

“You will not touch even a hair on them,” I snap, though my mind is already linking to each student. Do as she says. For now.

They sit.

She smiles wide and viciously, and then she saunters down the aisle, gaze flicking over their terrified faces like she’s admiring meat.

This version of her is unfamiliar. Gone is the guarded, clipped girl. When she does speak, her words are harsh, but she is in control until I push her far enough. The leash Nora put on her must have snapped. Finally, I get to see who this witch really is.

As much as I want to see what this malevolent being can do, my students are still here. I can handle Millicent. They can’t.

“I will do whatever the fuck I want.” To prove her point, Millicent forces down the last few standing students, slamming them into their chairs with an invisible force.

Their frightened eyes dart to me, panic dawning as they realize she can get into their minds too.

She’s fast. Too fast. She slips in alongside me, digging into their consciousness and sowing pain sharp enough to buckle their knees.

I remain calm, a sly grin curling on my lips as the collar singes her neck. “Keep doing whatever the fuck you want,” I say, mocking her words as the scent of burning skin rises. “And your throat will be burned through entirely.” The fury radiating from her when she reaches me is delicious.

“What the fuck is this?” she seethes, grabbing the steel collar on her neck, tugging at it. The skin around her neck is already blistered and red.

“Is knowledge not required in order to be heir in your coven? Seems rather important that a queen would be smart.”

“Oh, and I suppose being a murderous asshole is what qualifies someone to be the king's mage? Teacher of the year?”

“You did stab me, remember.”

“Oh, boohoo! Get over it!” she snaps, flinging her arms up in wild frustration. So much for the calm, brooding heir. Nora was a mask, never showing any emotion save for the occasional tight smile. Millicent is all raw emotion.

“Get over…being stabbed? And forced into a bond?” I smirk. “If you want to be with me so badly, you could’ve just asked. Not that I’d say yes. Maybe if you begged, practiced your pleases.”

She doesn’t take the bait; she throws it. A fist sails toward my face, but I lean to the side just in time.

Now that’s good form. Why can’t the guards hit like that?

I catch her wrist mid-strike, twisting it behind her back in one fluid motion. With a quick shift, I slam her forward onto my desk, feeling her ragged breath under my grip.

“Now, class, this is Millicent. Say hi to the witch.” I can’t help but taunt her as she curses and thrashes under me.

“Hello, Millicent,” my students say in unison, some smiling while others snicker.

Gods I love humiliating her. Shit kind of turns me on .

She’s still cursing me, vowing slow painful deaths and revenge, but I ignore them.

“Depending on the witch, some are skilled in hand-to-hand combat.” I explain, still holding her.

“This one in particular is a rare blood and dark magic user. And, as you’ve just witnessed, she’s quite capable in close quarters. ”

Sounds of awe ripple through the room. None of them have ever seen a witch handle two schools of magic. I allow her to be feared.

“The collar she wears suppresses her magic. The runes in it are ancient; the one who placed the collar is the only one who can remove it. The longer she uses magic, the more it burns. Push it far enough, and it’ll sear through her throat.”

With my free hand, I gather the hem of her gown, sliding it up her legs.

She goes still. “What the fuck are you doing?” She thrashes, trying to break free, but without her magic, I overpower her easily.

“Well-trained witches often conceal weapons. This one favors daggers; something to keep in mind.”

I pause, just at the swell of her ass. She’s still covered, but the exposure is enough to make a point. I lean in close, my weight settling on her back. My head dips, brushing my voice to her ear.

“No secret daggers tucked higher, Le Strange?” I murmur. “I can perform a more thorough search if necessary.”

She snaps her head toward me, bearing her teeth. She tries to bite me, but she misses by a few inches.

“You have the collar on,” I say coolly. “Don’t make me muzzle you too, pet.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” she spits. “You killed my mother, my sisters; now you attack me?”

Her body twists beneath mine, the friction between us growing harder to ignore. She’s infuriated and wild, and it makes her power hum even without magic. She’s proving to be more of a distraction than I had planned.

“Class dismissed.”

Chairs scrape back. Robes swish. Not one of them questions me. They whisper hushed words between one another as they take their leave. More curious than worried, they know the power I possess.

As the last student leaves, I release her, taking a step back. “Let’s talk, as you’re so adamant we finally do.”

She pushes herself off the desk with a huff and turns to me.

“I hate you.”

“Likewise,” I say flatly. “We’re not five. So, allow me to be perfectly clear, not to soothe your fragile feelings, but so we can finally move forward without more of your tantrums.”

“Your beliefs are a lie. A fabrication.” I don’t soften it. She doesn’t deserve a softened version.

Her eyes narrow. “So, my very eyes lie?”

“What did your eyes see, witch?”

“Beasts,” she hisses. “Came from the shadows. A dragon tore through the roof of our temple. You were upon its back. Do you mean to say I imagined that? That your dragon didn’t slaughter my sisters? That you didn’t leave me behind? You left me…and killed the one person I loved.”

Her voice breaks. The fury in her eyes twists into something almost sorrowful, grief made brittle by years of silence.