Page 121 of Every Shade of Shadow

Holy fucking shit.

I walked (with difficulty) out of his chambers and felt fresh power surging through me, just oodles and oodles of it waiting to be tapped.

Have other great witches through history known this, this link between sex and magic? Surely, but the idea of a historical figure like Azura Volari getting her brains fucked out kind of makes me want to puke.

And that device…not that I expected anything ordinary when I stepped into that dungeon. It’s not like we were heading in there to make fairy floss. But I was so wet, Damien so easily able to bury his full shaft inside me.

Christ knows what he has in store for me next.

Getting ready for class is a bit of a process—a lot of wincing and sore limbs, but I manage to get dressed and head out. I’m not surprised to find the general air of doom and despair hasn’t lifted, which brings me right back to reality and the fact there’s still a killer at large here. No one knows where he’ll strike next, or who.

My body might still be singing, but the more I go about my usual routine, the more troubled I become with questions and speculation. Worse, there don’t seem to be any suspects, even communication from the Academy, which probably does point to Mortis being behind this.

But even if they did have suspects, I doubt the Academy would say anything. It’s not like Isadora Lumina’s going to march out and pin a list of names to the bulletin board. No, it’s us alone who can put a stop to this.

Everyone remains too distracted to concentrate in class, not that Warding is the most exciting class to begin with. More than a few pairs of eyes gaze into the void or at the walls. Even Lily and Ava are quiet at lunch, the cafeteria lacking its usual circus-floor feel.

By the end of day I’m totally drained. Last night has caught up with me. Lily seems to clue in on it, asking me what’s up, but I’m not able to tell her about my run-in with Darkwood’s personal fuck pyramid.

“You want to get some air?” she offers, the two of us standing at the hallway that runs to the student quarters. “You look like you need it.”

Which is a sweet thing. She may be a little too impulsive sometimes, but she’s understanding and kind. She’s basically Sabrina—just six inches shorter with crazy hair.

Fucking Sab. The very mention of her name is like a fist closing around my heart. I miss her. Not her handouts or her polite offers of Dior dresses, but her attitude and sense of humor. One or two sentences and she can completely pull me from a funk. That’s her power.

The rest of New York? Can’t say I miss much.

There is a hint of drizzle when Lily and I come out through the back of the castle. There are gardens out here—actual gardens unlike the Professor’s Patch of Horrors. I’ve never seen anyone out here actually tending to them, drumming up a magical army of elves in my head that do all manner of hum-drum duties around the Academy.

We walk in silence until we reach the point where the gardens finish and forest begins.

I turn and look back at the castle looming in the distance. The light’s low, night always coming early to wherever we are. It’s a relief in some ways to be out of the castle. Despite the overcast sky, I catch myself enjoying the crispness of the coming night. If anything, it’s a welcome change from the sometimes stuffy interior of the castle.

We stand side by side watching the castle.

“I’ve been thinking of going to Adams again next weekend,” I confess, casting a sideways glance at Lily.

“Oh?” she says, a funny smile on her face as she turns her head to me. “I thought you like to stay in during the weekend to get wild with you-know-who.”

It’s hard to tell if she’s saying this with malice or humor, but I hope for the latter. “Nocturnal activities aside, I’m tired of seeing the same look of fear written over everyone’s face. I need a change of scenery. What about you?”

She kicks at the gravel. “Oh, I can’t wait to get the hell out of here,” she emphasizes. “If you hadn’t brought Adams up, I was going to suggest we hijack the Academy plane and fuck off to Ibiza for the weekend.”

I smile at that.

She shoves her hands into the pockets of her parka. “To be honest, though, and I do like to be honest, your mentor-slash-boyfriend-slash-fuck-daddy has me a little worried. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I sort of want to punch him in his perfect, handsome face after what Cassandra said.”

I squint at a nearby elm tree that looks suspiciously like Chris Hemsworth. “I see.”

“I mean, I hate the fucking bitch,” Lily says, her tone more casual than before. “That’s no secret. But, what Darkwood did to her? You have to admit that’s kind of fucked up, Ana. Motive aside, it’s cruel.”

Cruelty—she doesn’t know the half of it.

“Can I ask you something?”

Now it’s my turn to kick gravel. “Shoot.”

“You’ve forgiven him already, haven’t you? You’ve seen him again.”

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