Page 4 of Wicked Dove (Institute Thirteen #1)

“Where the hell are we?” I snap, my chest quickly rising and falling with each breath. A shiver runs down my spine as he slowly prowls toward me, disdain in his eyes and a sneer on his lips.

“The Sanctum,” he finally declares as he mirrors my stance behind the chair across from me, and I frown in confusion.

“Never heard of it,” I grumble, and he huffs.

“I don’t imagine you have.” His tone is condescending, igniting the fire inside of me.

“How so?” I push. I can come to the conclusion myself that I don’t know something, but the second someone else tells me I don’t, I’m hell bent on proving them wrong. This is no different.

“Take a seat, Miss Blackwood. I really don’t have all day.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him how I definitely don’t have time for this either, but he raises a pointed eyebrow at me. “Sit,” he repeats, the warning clear.

Despite my urge to stand up to the man and defy him, the sparkle in his eyes shows me he’s counting on me to do exactly that.

I flop into my seat, crossing my arms over my chest as I glare at him.

“What now?” I mutter, eager to understand what on Earth is actually going on.

“You killed a man.” My lips clamp shut, causing him to roll his eyes. “You don’t need to confirm or deny it. I already know because the moment you did, you relinquished a dormant spell that unleashed your supernatural abilities.”

“I did what now?” I blurt, tilting my head at him, but he continues talking as though I haven’t spoken at all.

“In doing so, you pinged your location to us, hence your presence here.”

“Pinged my location? Did you have my cell phone number or something?” I ask with a frown.

I never give my number out, not even to subscribe to things online, because I’m broke as hell and don’t need a ten-percent-off code when I can’t afford the other ninety.

Besides, it’s nothing more than a dealer's best friend—a throw away—all it does is send texts and make calls, and I left it at home.

“Are you actually this dumb, or are you just choosing not to listen to me?” he snaps, his jaw ticking with aggravation as he laces his fingers together on the table between us.

“Did you just call me dumb?” I gape in disbelief.

“You did drop out of high school.”

I huff, my fingers tingling with rage as I narrow my stare. “I didn’t drop out because I’m dumb, asshole. I dropped out because I’m smart.”

He gives me a pointed look, but I bite my tongue, refusing to explain myself to some guy who doesn’t deserve to know the truth.

Instead, I sigh, leaning back in my seat and crossing my legs at the ankles.

“How about we get back on track? You’re not making any sense about immortals, spells, and pinging whatever.

Maybe repeat yourself as if you’re talking to a kindergartener. You know, since I’m so dumb and all.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before speaking. “The Sanctum is the governing body of the supernatural world, Elodie Blackwood, and you just bought yourself a one-way ticket to Hell.”

“Can I get a refund?” I ask, lifting my hand with a nervous smile on my lips.

“Do you always deflect with humor?” he asks, the question deeper than I expect, but I shake it off.

“It’s called trauma. Do you have any?”

He shakes his head. “You’re on trial, Miss Blackwood.”

“Trial? What for?”

“Are you forgetting the part where you killed someone?”

I lift my hands in surrender. “It was a freak accident. He was going after my friend. Could you please tell me where my friend is, and then I can leave? You said I wasn’t being arrested, so let me go,” I insist, almost pleading as he stands up.

The mere mention of Walker has my chest hollowing out with concern.

His muscles bulge as he plants his hands on his hips, his gaze darkening. “The only way you’re leaving is in a coffin or into our care.”

I rear back in surprise at his words. “You cannot be serious. This has to be a joke, right? If you’re not arresting me, then I can get the hell out of here.

This is definitely a joke. Did Walker put you up to this?

” I push to my feet, matching his stance as I glare at him.

“Supernaturals aren’t real. Dormant spells aren’t real.

None of this is real!” I yell in frustration.

A snarl curls his lips as he leans forward, pounding his fists on the table so hard that the floor beneath my feet vibrates. But that’s not what makes me tremble. It’s the monster before me.

Gone are the thick cords in his forearms, gone are his narrowed eyes and lanky frame, and in their place stands a black, horned devil-like creature.

Black eyes.

Black fur.

Black pecs.

He snarls, showing his pearly white teeth, and I get the feeling that he wants to see them stained red with my blood.

“Am I… real?” he rasps, taking a step toward me, and I cower backward.

“I believe you,” I insist, hoping to stop him in his tracks.

“Good,” he grunts, shifting back to the man I’d woken up to in the blink of an eye.

What the fuck is going on right now? Where the hell is Walker, and why the hell am I tripping out so hard when I didn’t take a single drug? Not one. Instead of yelling all that at him, I take a deep, trembling breath. “W-what now?”

He nods, tugging at the collar of his loose shirt. “Now you await trial. Have you not been listening?”

I restrain the urge to huff and roll my eyes at him. “Trial for what, exactly? You’re being pretty vague,” I mutter, and he raises a brow at me. My back stiffens, ready for him to turn into a monster again, but to my surprise, his shoulders relax as he sighs.

“The Sanctum is to decide if you are fit to live.”

I gape at him. “Fit to live? There’s nothing wrong with me,” I breathe, and he shrugs.

“Dormant magic, remember?”

I think I’m going to be sick because he sure as hell doesn’t look like he’s joking right now!

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re riddled with old magic, and no one likes that,” he states as though that makes any sense.

Smiling, I step toward him. “Take it back then.”

His laughter fills the room a beat later, echoing obnoxiously in the air as he ignores me and heads for the door. “Unfortunately for you, that’s not how this works.”

I don’t think I have a clue how any of this works.

He reaches for the door handle, leaving me to scramble words together, desperate for more information.

“If I’m not fit to live?” My words hang in the air as he slowly glances over his shoulder at me.

“Then you die a thousand deaths.”

I gulp.

That doesn’t sound like fun.

“And if I am? Fit to live, I mean…” I cling to whatever hope I can, but the look in his eyes tells me I’m clutching at something that doesn’t exist.

“Then you’ll enjoy The Vale.”

“What’s that?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

“Irrelevant until you’re deemed worthy of life, Miss Blackwood.”

Dismissing me, he moves to step outside as if it’s not just air and clouds out there, but I rush toward him, grabbing his arm desperately as he turns a withering look my way.

“What am I supposed to be?”

“A scythe.”

I frown, running my tongue over my dry lips. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“No one wants to be a scythe,” he states, shaking his arm out of my hold.

“Why?”

He shifts, the looming monster appearing before me as he balances on the cusp of the doorway.

“Because they only ever leave The Sanctum in a wooden box.”