Page 38 of Wicked Vows (Cursed Darkness (DarkHallow Academy) #1)

Dathan

M y arm explodes when I’m halfway through a lecture on interdimensional politics. The Scar ignites, a blistering agony that isn’t mine. It’s hers.

I’m out of my seat before the professor can even register my snarl. He doesn’t stop me. He knows it would be futile. I launch through the doorway and hit the hallway at a dead run, using the shadows to move myself directly into her path.

Verik and Evren converge from different directions, their faces grim masks of fury. Her pain is a summons we are all compelled to answer.

She is crumpled at the base of the wall near Blackgrove’s office. A broken marionette with her strings cut. A faint smear of blood marks the stone where her head hit, already growing faint as the magical clean up kicks into gear.

A snarl from the left snaps my head to the side. “Do not take another step, Jerrick,” I hiss at the vampire who is lurking, catching the scent of her blood.

“Delectable,” he hisses, his elongated fangs protruding from his mouth, glistening with venom.

Jerrick hesitates, his predator’s instinct warring with his greed.

I reach into his mind and pull out the primal fear of starvation. I show him an eternity of watching others feed while he turns to brittle bone.

He gasps, a dry, rattling sound. His fangs retract. His eyes, wide with a terror he can’t comprehend, lock on mine.

“Run,” I suggest, my voice a soft caress.

He turns and flees the scene, the taste of her not worth the price.

I turn. Evren has his hand pressed against the brand on her back. His Scar glows with a cold, silver light. Her breathing is ragged, her body tense with pain.

She stirs, but we are drawing a crowd. I scoop her up, pulling her away from Evren and using the shadows to transport her to her room, her sanctuary.

I materialise near the bed, shadows clinging to me like a shroud. I lay her down gently. Her skin is too pale, her breathing shallow.

Verik and Evren ripple into existence moments later.

Verik’s eyes are burning hellfire, a promise of retribution.

Evren doesn’t waste a second. He’s beside her, his hands undressing her so he can press his hand flat against the Scar on her back.

His movements are sure, his face set in determination.

His shift in attitude is a welcome relief, but I find that I’m worried about the consequences on his mental health.

“Blackgrove?”

“Doubt it,” Verik says. “Maybe she was going to him for help and didn’t make it.”

“What did this?”

The grimoire appears on the desk. Its eye opens, fixing on the scene. I go to it, and it flips open to a page where the word Sacrifice is written.

It repeats the word in fresh ink, scrawled neatly, demanding something from me.

“What does it say?” Verik asks.

“Sacrifice.”

“Your turn,” he mutters and turns back to Lysithea, crawling onto the bed to be next to her.

“My turn,” I mutter. Evren had his, Verik must’ve had to give something up earlier. I guess I should’ve been expecting it. “What do you want?”

Nothing happens. Of course. I have to figure this shit out and fast because it is causing Lysithea more pain as the seconds pass.

Her whimpers are nails down the chalkboard of my soul. The grimoire wants something intimate. A truth. A weakness. I already gave it that. I already laid my greatest fear at her feet. What else is there?

The Scar on my arm flares in agony. The book is a parasite, and she is the host.

My power is fear. I feed on it. I wield it. I am its master.

The book doesn’t want my power. It wants to break me with it. It wants me to turn my power on myself. It wants me to live my nightmare.

My gaze lands on Lysithea, her face a mask of pain even in unconsciousness. Evren is a statue of grim focus, pouring his cold into her.

I close my eyes and reach for the terror that lives in the deepest, darkest corner of my soul. The one I never touch. The one I confessed to her in the garden.

I pull it out.

The room chills. The shadows on the wall twist into a scene I have been trying not to think about. Her, beneath me, her eyes wide with a final, shattering terror as I drain her dry of her fears. She goes limp and turns to a husk that explodes and drifts away on the wind.

My grunt of pain is raw in my throat. The vision fades.

The book on the desk flips shut. The pain in my arm subsides. Sacrifice accepted.

I open my eyes, gasping. The after-image of her dead body floating away in a million pieces is burned behind my eyelids.

Verik is staring at me, his expression unreadable. “What did you do?” he asks.

“Paid the toll,” I grit out, feeling a shred of sanity slip away.

The cost was great, but it was a price I’d pay again in a heartbeat.

Lysithea gasps as her eyes open and she rises up on her elbows, her head snapping to the side. She relaxes when she sees she is in her room. Her gaze sweeps over me, lingers on the tremor in my hand I can’t quite still. “What happened?” she asks.

“You collapsed,” I say, forcing the words out, “near Blackgrove’s office. Did he do something to you?”

She frowns and shakes her head. “No, not him. He saved me. In his own fucked-up way.”

“Saved you from what?” I ask, moving closer.

“The ancestors.”

“The what now?” Verik asks.

“Ancestors,” she says, flipping over and pulling her dress back up. She shoots Evren a soft smile of thanks. Irritation flares in my soul. I was the one who helped her. I was the one who stopped the book from torturing her. Where is my thanks?

The brand on my arm flares a warning, and I get it now. This is the test. Sacrificing my role in making her better and making her think it was Evren, giving him the credit when it is mine. I can do this. It’s not important who saved her, only that she is saved.

“Who are the ancestors?” I ask stiffly.

“Fuck knows. Blackgrove played dumb, but I know he knows. He told me that they walk their own pathways, and I stumbled into one of them. That bitch tried to kill me with my own damn power,” she growls.

“So your ancestor then,” I state.

“Not necessarily. When I say my power, I mean mine. She used it against me.”

“Wow, okay, that is some heavy dark magic.”

“No shit,” she hisses. “It wasn’t a syphon, it was a blatant grip on my power turned inside out.”

“Shit,” Verik mutters.

“What were you doing when you stumbled onto this pathway?” I ask her, sitting on the bottom of the bed.

“Research,” she states. “I was looking for answers. About me. About Nox Sirens.”

Alone. Vulnerable. A perfect target. The ghost of my nightmare vision, of her turning to dust, flashes behind my eyes. My jaw tightens.

“The library showed me an alcove I’d never seen before,” she says. “There was a book. Extinct Bloodlines. ”

“And?” Verik prompts, his impatience a sharp edge in the quiet room.

She looks up, her violet eyes annoyed. “It just said one thing. Under the chapter for my species. ‘She will come.’ And then I was grabbed and screamed at.”

“Fun,” I mutter. “She will come. Meaning you or the bitch who screamed at you?”

Lysithea’s eyes widen. “Oh, I hadn’t thought… fuck. Good fucking question.”

My face remains impassive, but inside I’m beaming that I gave her something she hadn’t thought about. The Scar pain flickers in warning. Fuck’s sake. How long will this test last?

“Also, is the bitch that screamed at you, the same one who answered your call the other night?” The brand flares white-hot, but I just can’t help myself. “Fuck you,” I growl, turning to the book. “No one else is asking these damned questions.”

“Why are you yelling at the book?” Verik asks, giving me a smug smile.

“Because it’s being a dick,” I snarl, crossing over to it and prodding it. “Stop it! Stop it right now.”

“Okay, wow. It’s not a small child,” Verik mutters.

“Shut the fuck up. This is between me and it.”

The grimoire’s single eye blinks slowly, unimpressed. The pain in my arm sharpens, a vicious, spiteful twist of the blade. It’s punishing my defiance. It’s punishing my ego. I just lived my worst fucking nightmare for this thing, and it wants more. It wants me to be nothing.

“Fine,” I hiss, snatching my hand back from the book. “You win.”

I turn away from the desk, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth ache. The test isn’t just about the sacrifice. It’s about the aftermath. It wants me to be humble. It wants me to give up the credit. It wants me to let someone else be the hero.

Fuck. That.

But the ghost of her pain is an ache in my own bones.

I force my shoulders to relax, shoving my hands in my pockets. “Evren,” I say, my voice tight. “What do you think? These ancestors… are they in your wheelhouse?”

The pain in my arm subsides instantly. The relief is so profound it makes me dizzy. The god is pleased. For now.

Evren looks from me to Lysithea, a silent conversation passing between them. He shakes his head, then points to the book, then to his own head.

“He thinks the book is blocking him,” Lysithea translates, her gaze wary, assessing my sudden change in my attitude.

“Convenient,” I mutter, then catch myself. “For the book, I mean.”

The Scar remains quiet. Good. I’m learning the rules of this sick, twisted game. My role is to ask the questions, but never have the answers. A puppet master pulling my own strings. For the love of all things unholy, I don’t know how long I can keep it up. But I have to. I have to for her.

“You should get some rest,” I tell her.

“I have classes.”

“Skip them.”

She glares at me. “I’m not hiding.”

Of course she isn’t. Hiding is not in her vocabulary.

“She’s right,” Verik says, his voice flat. “Normality is the best defence. We act like nothing happened.” He looks at her. “Try not to stumble into any more ancestral pathways today.”

She gives him a look that could kill. It’s magnificent.

Evren touches her arm gently, a silent plea for her to be careful. She doesn’t pull away.

The book’s eye swivels, watching our every interaction. A silent, patient god judging its new, dysfunctional acolytes.

“Fine,” I say, the word tasting like defeat. “But you’re not going alone.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but Verik is already moving. “I’ll take her. My lecture is in the same building.”

He holds out a hand. A command disguised as a courtesy.

She hesitates, her gaze flickering to me, then to Evren. Then she takes Verik’s hand. “If I see any of you lurking or spying on me, there will be hell to pay.”

“Consider us told,” I mutter and watch as they leave the room.

I turn back to the book, wondering why she left us in her sanctuary. But only for a second before she marches back in. “Get out.”

I smile and turn to her, striding up to her and brushing past her. She shivers at the slight touch. I will get more from her, more than she thinks she is willing to give. She will see that she is as lost to us as we are to her.