Page 11

CHAPTER 11

AISLINN

A wareness came back slowly. Trying to open my eyes was like wading through treacle. Not the golden syrup kind either. I'm talking the dark, bitter stuff that clings to everything it touches. The last thing I remembered was eating at the café with Fiona and Violet. Then all hell broke loose. There was purple light and then it felt like I was falling.

Now, there was cold stone beneath my back and vile magic humming through my bones. My head throbbed with the unmistakable hangover-like feeling of being magically knocked unconscious. Bloody brilliant way to end what was supposed to be a relaxing day spent wine tasting.

Kalli would be beside herself. I'd promised to bring her back one of those fancy biscuits from the café's display cabinet. The thought of my daughter made me think of my mate. Argies would raze the world trying to find me. A vice constricted around my heart. I had to get out of here and get back to them. And Fiona and Violet. Those two were probably going mental.

My heart began racing when I tried to move. Panic threatened to drown me. I was bloody well bound to some sort of stone altar. Magical restraints held me spread-eagled like a sacrifice in one of those dodgy horror films they show late at night on BBC Three. The position made every muscle scream in protest. Pulling against the bonds did absolutely nothing except make pretty purple sparks dance across my skin. Each spark felt like a tiny electric shock. The magic was corrupted in a way that made my Fae blood recoil.

The chamber around me gradually came into focus. Massive stone walls stretched up into darkness. Their surfaces were covered in pulsing runes that somehow managed to look both beautiful and wrong. They reminded me of the protection sigils in Eidothea's great halls. The big difference was that these weren’t made from Light magic. Where Fae runes normally flowed like water, these jerked and sputtered like dying lights at a grotty underground station. Purple light oozed between the symbols. I was beginning to hate the color. Another sin I would pin on the asshole behind this. My Kalli was a lovely purple dragon and I would be pissed if I couldn’t adore her the same way I always had.

"I wouldn't bother," a cultured voice said from somewhere to my left. "Those restraints were designed specifically for your Fae power. It’s quite fascinating, really. You developed a dual heritage after giving birth, yet you have no dragon. It requires such... precise containment."

I turned my head - about the only movement I could manage - to find a man watching me with unnatural amber eyes. He was tall and lean. Of course, he was dressed in an expensive suit that somehow managed to look perfectly pressed despite the dank underground setting. Dark hair swept back from aristocratic features that might have been handsome if not for the cruel twist to his mouth. Everything about him screamed old money and even older magic.

"Marcus Blackwood," he introduced himself with a slight bow that managed to be both elegant and mocking. He was a member of the family that had gone missing so long ago. How? Where had he been hiding? "Though you may know me better as the current Alpha of the Shadowmere pack. We've been watching you for quite some time, Mrs. Drake."

Well, wasn't that just bloody brilliant. I was being held captive by the leader of Britain's most notoriously corrupt werewolf pack. I would have questioned why a non-shifter was the alpha but the pack had gotten a bit too friendly with dark magic. Clearly, those reports had been optimistic. He really had been following us. He’d done a lot of research on us. This wasn't some random opportunistic kidnapping. That meant good things were in store for me.

"Charmed," I said dryly as I channeled Fiona. She was the bravest person I knew. She’d earned the respect of a goddess with her sarcasm. I needed to be more like her and less like me at the moment. "I'd shake hands, but I'm a bit tied up at the moment. Though I have to say, your hospitality leaves something to be desired. Not even a glass of wine? And here I thought the Shadowmere pack was supposed to be sophisticated."

My attempt at humor fell flat as Marcus circled the altar like a predator sizing up prey. His movements were smooth and controlled. My Fae magic screamed warnings as corrupted energy rolled off him in waves. Whatever he was now, it wasn't just a mage. The magic surrounding him felt like oil slicking across my skin. It made me want to scrub myself clean with steel wool.

“You have no idea how long I've searched for someone like you,” he said, reaching out to trace a finger along my arm. His touch burned with Dark magic. It also left a trail of shadow that sank beneath my skin. “You’re a true hybrid thanks to carrying your daughter.” If I could have jumped off the slab and ripped him to shreds, I would have. Anger tore through me like a brush fire.

“Your elemental powers are perfectly balanced," he continued as if he couldn’t see the daggers I was glaring at him. “Do you know how rare that combination is? How powerful? You’re the ideal vessel for our great work.”

My rage took over and I tried to call my magic. I wanted to freeze that presumptuous git's finger until it shattered like cheap glass at a dodgy pub. Nothing happened. The runes carved into the stone walls pulsed brighter. The absolute wankers were bloody well actively suppressing my powers. They formed complex patterns that made my eyes go all squiffy trying to look at them directly. Like trying to read the Evening Standard on the Tube after too many pints.

“If you're expecting me to ask what 'great work' means, you'll be waiting a while,” I told him. I was rocking my inner Fiona. “I've had enough cryptic magical nonsense for one day. First, the evil wine cellars, now this? Britain's supernatural community really needs to work on its hobbies.”

He laughed. The sound was like breaking glass mixed with howling winds. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy breaking that spirit." His form rippled, magic coursing over him in waves. The purple energy seemed to absorb the light around us. It turned him into something that made my soul want to try to crawl out of my body and run away screaming.

Shadow and magic merged in impossible ways. Arcane symbols blazed across skin that couldn't decide if it wanted to be flesh or pure energy. Darkness writhed beneath a form that kept trying to turn translucent. When he spoke, his voice echoed as if multiple beings were talking at once. And each one was slightly out of sync with the others.

“This is true power,” the thing that had been Marcus said. “The First Ones showed me how to transcend the limitations of mere mortal magic. They taught me to embrace chaos and become something greater. To think, I once believed being an Arch-Mage was the height of power. How blind I was.”

My stomach lurched as corrupted magic poured off him in waves. Each pulse made the runes around me burn hotter. "Looks more like you embraced being a horror show reject," I managed through gritted teeth. "Though I suppose everyone needs a hobby. Have you considered gardening instead? Much less corruption of the soul."

His magic pulled back and he resumed his human form. Though shadows still writhed beneath his skin like restless snakes. The perfect suit remained immaculate. That was grossly unfair given the circumstances. "The First Ones have promised me immortality and power beyond imagining. All I need to do is help them... redistribute the balance of magic. And you, my dear, are the key to that redistribution."

"And here I thought I was just special," I drawled, trying to ignore how the corrupted magic was seeping into my bones. It was making me sick to my stomach. Choking to death on my own vomit would damper my chances of escape. "Do all your guests get this treatment, or am I just lucky?"

“You're deflecting with humor,” Marcus observed, his eyes becoming swirling pools of purple energy as he studied me like a particularly interesting specimen. "Just like your friend, Fiona. Speaking of. Once I have her and Violet, I'll have all the vessels I need." His smile widened and magical energy crackled between his teeth. “The phoenix and the witch will complete my collection. But you, my dear hybrid...” He trailed a finger through the air above my face, leaving trails of corrupted magic. “You're the perfect catalyst to start it all.”

Before I could tell him exactly where to stick his perfection, magic surged through the runes on the walls. The purple light intensified until it felt like my eyes were burning. Images forced themselves into my mind. They were memories that weren't mine. Although they felt horrifically real.

I saw the College of High Magic as it had been a century ago. It was a proud institution with strict tradition. They were devoted to maintaining the boundaries between magical realms. Their halls had been a sanctuary of pure magical theory and practice. Then came Marcus's experiments. He did small things at first. He combined different schools of magic in ways that violated natural law. It was a perverted version of what Fiona, Violet and I had done. Where our power worked with one another and the limitations that came with each, he pushed the boundaries of what magic should do rather than what it could do.

"My predecessors were weak," Marcus's voice filtered through the visions. "They believed in maintaining the old ways. They wanted to keep the magical schools separate and controlled. But the First Ones showed me a better path."

The memories shifted. They showed me a younger Marcus performing rituals in hidden chambers beneath the College. Each experiment twisted conventional magic a little more. He was corrupting the foundations of spell craft. The darkness around him grew deeper and hungrier with each violation of magical law.

The corruption crept in so gradually that many didn't notice until it was too late. His shadow magic twisted traditional spells into something evil. Those who resisted were given a choice. They must submit or become fuel for further experiments. The memories showed me fellow mages being drained of power. Bile burned the back of my throat and I worried I would lose the food I’d eaten at the cafe when their very essence was fed into a growing network of corruption.

I watched in horror as practitioners were transformed one by one. Their natural magic was perverted into something else. Some embraced the change willingly. They were drunk on the promise of power. Others fought and died screaming as their souls were torn apart and reformed into vessels of chaos.

When the visions finally released me, I was shaking and covered in cold sweat. The taste of copper filled my mouth. My skin felt like it was trying to crawl away from my body. "You're monsters," I whispered, unable to keep the horror from my voice.

"We're visionaries," Marcus corrected. He gestured to the larger chamber beyond my altar. The shadows parted like a curtain.

I hadn't been able to see it before. And now, I wished I still couldn't. The chamber was massive. It stretched away into darkness. There were several other stone slabs that held more victims. Based on what we’d learned, I had no doubt they were witches, warlocks, and other hybrids. They were all connected by streams of corrupted power that flowed like dark rivers through the air. Their magic was being systematically stripped away and fed into massive oak barrels that lined the walls.

They were Fae wine barrels used to age and enhance magical vintages. They were similar to the ones we’d destroyed in the cellars, only there were so many more in the room next to mine. But these had been twisted, their natural preservation magic corrupted to store death essence instead. Where they should have radiated warmth and life, they now pulsed with cold hunger. The screams of the victims echoed off stone walls as their power was slowly drained.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Marcus asked. He watched the process with evident satisfaction. "Each vessel contributes something unique to the network. Witch magic provides the foundation. Warlock power adds stability. Pure mage essence allows for manipulation. But it's not enough. The network needs to be stabilized by something stronger."

"Let me guess," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady as another victim's screams echoed through the chamber. "That's where my friends and I come in?"

"Precisely." Marcus stalked around my altar. His movements were unnaturally fluid. "Individual vessels can only handle so much power before burning out. But you three are the key. Your hybrid nature will allow you to bridge different types of magic naturally. The Fae blood gives you access to ancient power, while your elemental abilities provide control. And your friends will ensure it runs smoothly. Your trio will be the perfect conductor for the entire system."

"I think I'll pass," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. I reached for my mate bond with Argies. He could cut me off from my magic, but he couldn’t touch the mate-bond. I searched for that familiar warmth of dragon fire. My heart broke when I felt nothing. How had the runes blocked that too? Reality sunk in like a lead weight. I was well and truly on my own.

"An interesting theory," I added, stalling for time. "But what makes you think my hybrid nature won't reject your corruption entirely? Fae magic isn't exactly known for playing nice with others." That’s why it was impossible for other Fae to combine their power with a witch’s. My unique bond with Fiona and Violet made our unique brand of magic possible.

Marcus smiled. It wasn't a pleasant expression. "That's precisely why we've spent so long preparing. Each failed vessel helped us refine the process. The wine barrels were a particular stroke of genius. We took Fae crafting and corrupted it to our purpose. The wood is enchanted to store and enhance power, you see. We simply... redirected their purpose."

A scream pierced the air as one of the vessels convulsed. Purple energy poured from them in a heavy stream. It went into the nearest barrel, which swelled like a tick gorging on blood. I watched in horror as the victim's magic flickered and died. My mind screamed in denial as I stared at the empty husk left behind.

"You don't have a choice," Marcus continued as if nothing had happened. "The preparations are almost complete. Your friends will fall into the trap and be here in no time. Then the First Ones will reward me with power beyond imagining. No more artificial boundaries between magical disciplines. No more rules about what magic can and cannot do. There will be pure, unlimited potential."

My back shrank against the stone when he produced a ceremonial athame from his jacket. The blade was dark metal that seemed to absorb light. It was wicked sharp and would filet me with ease. I wanted to look away but the corrupted runes seemed to hold my gaze. I let out the breath I was holding when he used it to cut his own palm. He began mixing the blood with what looked like liquid shadow in an ornate chalice.

"This will hurt," he said conversationally as he began painting runes directly onto my skin with the mixture. "Try not to pass out too quickly. The process works better if you're conscious. Besides, you’ll want to feel your individual magic type being unified."

The first rune burned like acid. Tendrils of corrupted magic burrowed beneath my skin and tried to get into my magical core. Only my connection to Argies and my friends kept me from being thoroughly infected. I bit back a scream as he continued working. Each symbol connected me more deeply to the network of stolen power. The marks spread across my skin like corrupt ivy. Purple light pulsed in time with my heartbeat.

Hatred washed over me when I began to feel the other vessels. Their pain, despair, and fading essences acted as a poison that ate at what little protection I had left. Their power began flowing through me. It used my unique nature to stabilize and strengthen the matrix. It felt like being torn apart and stitched back together with barbed wire.

"Fascinating," Marcus murmured as he completed another set of runes. "Your dual nature adapts so beautifully to the process and keeps you alert. The resonance is already building. Soon, you'll be fully integrated into the circuit, and then..." He paused, head tilting like a predator hearing distant prey.

A particularly vicious surge of power cut off his words. It drew a scream from me that I couldn't suppress. It felt like my very soul was being used as a conductor of wild electricity. Through the haze of pain, I noticed Marcus consulting what looked suspiciously like my mobile.

“Your friends are being quite persistent,” he commented, showing me the screen. Messages from Fiona and Violet flashed continuously. "I do hope they figure out where you are soon. Once I have the phoenix and the witch, the circuit will be complete. Perhaps we should send them directions? After all, we wouldn't want them to miss their part in the grand transformation."

"They're going to kick your arse," I managed between waves of agony. The thought of my friends walking into this trap gave me the strength to fight against the corruption seeping through my veins.

He just smiled and continued drawing runes. Each symbol burned worse than the last as more power was forced through my unwilling body. I fought it and rejected the foreign magic. However, I couldn’t keep it all out. His magic was too strong. All I could do was endure as darkness crept through my veins and shadow magic sang in my bones.

Somewhere in the distance, I thought I heard Argies roar. But that was impossible through all these wards. Wasn't it? The thought slipped away as Marcus began the next phase of the ritual. After that, everything dissolved into purple fire and pain.

"Your mate is quite powerful," Marcus observed as he added more runes. "A dragon of his caliber is rare. I look forward to studying how his magic reacts with the network. Though I imagine he'll be more... challenging to contain than you were. Perhaps we should send him a message? Let him know exactly how his beloved mate is contributing to our great work?"

The suggestion sent rage burning through me. It was enough to momentarily overwhelm the pain. "Touch my mate or my daughter," I snarled, letting my rage show in my voice, "and I'll show you exactly why the College should have locked away their dark grimoires and stuck to proper magic."

"Brave words from someone bound and helpless," Marcus chuckled. "But don't worry. Soon, you won't care about mates or children or anything else. The First Ones will remake everything. And you'll be at the heart of that transformation. You should feel honored."

Another surge of power ripped through me. There was no holding back the screams. As consciousness began to fade, I clung to thoughts of Argies, Kalli, and my friends. They would come. They would find me. And when they did, Marcus would learn exactly why you don't mess with the Backside of Forty.