Page 96 of Spark of Sorcery

“And what about me?” I say, my jaw tight, my voice restricted in my throat.

Her brow crinkles. “You?”

“What ifIwant to touch you?” The words fall from my lips before I can stop them. I take another step closer, pulled there by the strength of her orbit. We’re so close now, I can feel the warmth of her flesh and the tickle of her breath. “And what if I can’t? Who is going to help me?”

Her mouth falls open, but that blood doesn’t leave her cheeks, it settles beneath her delicate skin, and her eyes grow darker as the black of her pupils widen.

“Do you … do you want to touch me?” she asks, her voice full of amazement and something else. Something just as dark as her gaze.

I screw shut my eyes, my hands bunching into tight fists, my toes curling inside my boots.

It’s all I want. All I can think about. All I am dreaming about. It’s consuming my every thought.

But just like Cadieux, it’s something I can’t have.

It’s just as dangerous. Just as lethal.

“Get out of my classroom, Miss Storm,” I whisper and when I open my eyes again, she’s gone.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Beaufort

We reach the border town where the attack occurred just as the sun rolls towards the horizon, the sky as red as the blood that covers the paths, the doors, the walls. Blood. Everywhere we look.

There are bodies too. Mutilated and violated beyond recognition – strewn about the place, hanging from rooftops, impaled on spikes.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen such a monstrosity. That doesn’t make it any easier. For a moment, it still startles every bone in my body and all I want to do is climb straight back into that truck, drive back to the academy, wrap my arms around her, and bury my face in her soft sunshine hair.

I can’t do that, though. I’m Beaufort Lincoln. I don’t show weakness, fear, or compassion. So I steel my features, push the carnage from my mind and go with the others tomeet the old general waiting for us. Her face is lined with the sun and old battle scars that couldn’t be repaired. Across her left eye she wears a black patch and her uniform is gray with dust.

There’s no welcome, she inspects us with her good eye, hands clutched behind her back.

She rolls her jaw and then she speaks.

“This attack occurred just over twelve hours ago. The demons broke through our defenses about thirty miles in that direction.” She points out towards the horizon where the sky is still light. “Most of the damage had been done by the time our forces arrived and that was even with them traveling by displacement. The threat is yet to be eliminated. This is a much bigger intrusion than we’ve ever seen before. Our forces are out there tracking down and engaging with the demons still on the loose. We also have a team repairing and rebuilding the infiltrated defenses.”

“And why are we here?” Dray asks, he slouches beside me giving off unbothered, unconcerned vibes, but I can feel in his magic that every single cell of his is tense and alert.

“I was just coming to that, Mr. Eros,” the general says. “Our forces are engaged with the largest group of demons. But we believe there may be a smaller group heading out towards the East. We have some of our best tracking them now. You’ll be helping to find and eliminate them.”

“And how about this?” I say, sweeping my hand towards the direction of all the carnage and death, trying my best to avoid the vacant, glassy-eyed stares of all those dead people. Slate people – farmers tending crops out here in the only part of Slate Quarter where anything will actually grow.

“We have a team coming from elsewhere in Slate to clean this up,” the general says.

I stare down at my feet. Yeah, leave it to the commoners from Slate to deal with all this mess.

“How about the crops?” one of Kratos’s pals asks next. “Won’t it be harvest time soon?”

I stare out towards the horizon again. He’s right. I can see the silhouettes of the growing corn against the setting sun.

“Why?” Kratos snorts. “You volunteering, Nathan?”

His friends all chuckle like there’s nothing funnier than the thought of a shadow weaver carrying out such manual, menial work. Maybe I’d have laughed too some months back. Now all I can think about is Briony.

“Not part of my job description,” the general says, smiling too as if there isn’t a massacre right behind her. “But I’m sure they’ll move some workers here soon to deal with it.” The general adjusts the cap on her head and squints through the growing darkness at us with her one eye. “Right, if you’re ready, let’s move out. The sooner we find these fuckers, the better.”

Chapter Thirty-Five