Page 184 of Magic of the Damned

“I’m so done with magic when this is over. I will never try to satisfy my curiosity again. I might not even read another book,” I pledged.

His low rumble of laughter redirected my ache for the object to him. “I’m magic. I won’t let you be through with me.”

“Not you. That’s different.” The words rang true because they were, but so did the reality of my existence.

Lifting my chin he studied me, the smile leaving his eyes. Face to face, I forgot we were in the room with Anand, Areleus, and Ileana. It was an intimate moment. Just the two of us, the world falling away.

“Do you wonder what I really am?” I asked.

“You’re my Luna. That’s all that matters.” Once the spell was over and Dark Caster magic destroyed, I was Luna. A different version of Luna. A post Dark Caster magic wielder and a world of chaos, violence, and strife left behind. That Luna was going to be a hell of a lot more cynical. How could she not be?

I nodded, finding some comfort in his words although the unanswered questions remained.

“I need you to be careful. If there was another way, I would have chosen it,” Dominic whispered.

Maybe I was too naive, but Ophelia wanted me, so I didn’t feel like my life was in jeopardy. More than likely, I’d be annoyed by her pandering and speeches of persuasion or disgusted by her plans.

Taking hold of the bespelled infinity knot, magic laced around me, no longer a tug. It secured my fingers to it, which shook from the force of it and the magic that pulsed through me. Meeting Dominic’s gaze, outwardly I exhibited a bravado that was being whittled away by the second into a chaotic maelstrom.

My optimism quickly escalated to anxiety in equal measure when the knot emitted a vibrant glow that punched more magic into the room. Alone. Panic crowded out all other emotions. All the discussions hadn’t prepared me for the immense loneliness of facing Peter and Ophelia alone, or the creativity of my thoughts as they conjured more harmful scenarios. What if the royals were unable to break any of the wards Ophelia had created? After all, she had avoided capture for years. And was powerful enough to snatch my magic with magic alone. No objects to assist her. What if the locating spell Dominic placed on me failed? Or as revenge for punching her, Ophelia threw out any plans of having me as an ally and decided to kill me? Ophelia killing me was unlikeliest of them all. Doubt became like a persistent shadow, lingering in my psyche.

“Luna.” Ophelia’s expression matched her satin melodious voice that welcomed me. “What brings you here?”

Is she screwing with me? One look around the room confirmed my visit was expected, and the mood was set for it. Heavy terra cotta curtains blocked out any hint of light or any way to reveal the proximity of neighbors, if there were any. This was a house, I was sure of it. I stood in the middle of a living room. The open floor plan gave me a full view of a modern kitchen, a sitting room, and a section of the home that had been designated as a library. The bookcase held more objects and talismans than books. The midnight-gray walls could easily be mistaken for wallpaper instead of paint, and the sigils and glyphs covering every inch of it created a macabre pattern that could have lent to a gothic décor. My heart thrashed against my chest. Would they disrupt the location spell?

Slowly turning, I took in the full view and possible exits. The curtains covered what I assumed was a sliding door exit in the kitchen. To get to the front door, I’d have to get past Ophelia. I looked for things that could be used as a weapon. I got sight of a vase, a computer on the coffee table, a ceramic bowl on the table against the wall, and a few decorative items that didn’t quite fit the dark décor.

“I got your invitation,” I said, opening my hand to reveal the magic object and shooting a glance to my right where Peter was perched in a chair next to a dispirited Helena. She looked physically fine and had no noticeable restraints. My overactive mind created the scenario of another betrayal, until I saw the sigils laced around her fingers. Similar ones decorated Peter and Ophelia’s fingers. I couldn’t determine what had made her eyes glassy, but she was losing the fight to keep back tears. One emotion was obvious whenever her eyes drifted in either Peter’s or Ophelia’s direction: a thirst for retaliation.

“I wish it was an invitation that you’d accepted alone.” She tossed a look in Peter’s direction and he stood. He joined her in making rote movements of their hands while their lips moved at a fervent pace, casting a spell. With a final swiping hand movement, the markings on the walls became white illuminations of bars that stretched over all the walls in the room. Where there wasn’t a wall, a network of lines formed, attaching to the bars. Fear blazed in me at the sight of them. Once again, I was imprisoned. It seemed like my concerns were warranted.

“I’m locked in,” I said softly.

She smiled. “You’re not locked in. They’re just locked out.”

“Is there a difference?”

“To me there is. The same as lying low and refusing to be hunted.” A dark sneer made it to her eyes. “They’re here. Too bad there was a small part of me that wanted to believe in you.” She turned to Peter. “You were right, she is enthralled by him. She will never align with us.” Cool, disapproving eyes traveled over me and snagged on the cross purse where I’d stored the Diax. Nothing could be done without Dominic and Ileana.

The bars around us wavered and shimmered in a gallant effort to stay intact. Worry crept over Peter’s face while he watched the attack on their ward. Ophelia didn’t share that same concern; she smirked at whatever the royals were doing on the other side of the house. A thunderous sound snapped my attention to the door. Resounding thuds and pounding were heard from outside.

“They’re occupied, for the moment,” Ophelia said to what had become her preemptive distraction. Fighting.

The front door pulled away, giving me a view of Dominic just as a wolf lunged at him and a vampire swooped in from another direction. At the sound of bone breaking followed by a shrill, tortured sound that ended abruptly, I was sure with a death, I swallowed down the bile that had arisen.

“Search her,” Ophelia commanded of Peter, pulling my attention from my limited view of the commotion outside.

“Don’t touch me,” I snapped when he moved toward me.

A sneer warped Ophelia’s features. Blue whirls of magic danced over her fingertips. “Should I coax you into compliance?” she asked. “I can assure you it won’t be pleasant.”

Her eyes snapped to the glowing bars that continued to waver and shake but held. “They despise us because of our magic.”

“Don’t forget your abuse of it.”

“Has his sister been held to the same standards?”

The ragged breath I sucked in served as my answer, because there wasn’t any defense for Helena’s behavior, and she’d never been held to account for it. She was cruel. She wielded her magic with vengeance and never suffered any penalties for it. Peeling my eyes from Ophelia, I looked at Helena. Crestfallen eyes and her somber appearance showed something I’d never seen on her. Regret. Her glistening eyes dropped to her fingers. I couldn’t make out the sigils and it wouldn’t be very helpful even if I could. The only thing that made sense was that it was a magical restriction, or they’d figured a way to bind their magic to hers, giving them access to the Underworld.

---