Page 105 of Magic of the Damned

He stopped. Head canted to the side, he gave me an evaluating look that lasted long enough for me to feel the weight of his scrutiny. “I get it,” he announced finally. “It’s not just you being the puzzle Dominic needs to solve, you’re the mascot for humanity that makes it easy to fight for their existence.”

“Mascot.” I frowned.

“Not in a bad way. You’re caring, adaptable, a champion for your people—not just the ones you know but those you don’t—and you’re seemingly innocuous.”

“Innocuous as in weak.” I sighed at the thinly veiled insult.

“Not at all. One of the problems with our world is that there aren’t many facets of strength.”

I never got the impression that any of them wanted to be human or even respected humans, but apparently there were aspects of being human that they did want. I suspected very few aspects, but the desire existed, nonetheless.

He gave me a half smile. “The human mascot should live,” he said. They had a thousand books in the library, worn from use, and he was probably responsible for some of the wear, yet ‘human mascot’ was the best he could do. It didn’t bother me. I launched at him and gave him a hug, which shocked both of us. The stress was getting to me.

Stumbling back, I covered my mouth. “Sorry. Cabin fever.”

“No worries. I don’t like being locked in here, either.”

That was an obvious understatement. He was buckling under it, and all the time he spent in the gym was an attempt to stave it off. As was wanting to train with me. It was a distraction. Still, he knew that killing me would free him, and yet he wanted me alive.

My time with Anand was more enjoyable than I would have expected. He was still a miser with information and words. Most of the questions I posed went unanswered or given the tersest response imaginable. He managed to stay stolid and a focused instructor until we transitioned to learning kicks. I followed his demonstration, and he seemed as surprised as I was that I needed less demonstration with them than I did with punches and strikes. There seemed to be more skill needed to execute them and prevent injury.

His stolid demeanor was being challenged as his lip twitched in an effort to refrain from laughing.

“Yes, I just kicked him in his imaginary berries,” I touted proudly. “Your instructions were to make it hurt. I did. I can tell you from experience, kicking someone in their man giblets hurts. And it makes the exact point I need to make.”

He tossed his head back in a howl of laughter. A hoarse strained sound. I was convinced he didn’t do it often. “Now, do it with punches,” he said. “Jabs and uppercuts.”

So I did. After two lessons, I knew I’d never be able to hold my own with the likes of Anand or anyone else, but it was a confidence booster. Adrenaline and determination to do the best I could chased away all thoughts of Dominic not giving me the opportunity to quiz him about patricide being an option. A very real option.

Plus, what were Dominic’s thoughts about me? Did I exist only for the magic? When did that happen? My mother gave birth to me, I knew that. There were pictures. My dad had a ton of stories about the pregnancy. And my brother. Was he a vessel, too? Could he be in danger? Before I could stop it, I was spiraling. My strikes hit harder into the body opponent bag, and when I placed a haphazard kick in its chest, ignoring all Anand’s teachings, he placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Take a break,” he said and handed me a bottle of water. Taking it, I plopped on the mat and every emotion I had been suppressing rushed in with a vengeance. Flooded with a sense of despair, I drew my knees up and tried to breathe. Ease the morbid feeling of impending death. Wishing I could do it all over again and leave the book where it was and never give it an opportunity to use me as a conduit. Deny Peter the gift of finding me. I wouldn’t have met Dominic, but what would I have missed? Great sex, flirting with a handsome man who gives me hot and cold messages. Right now it’s hot. He wants me alive. Claims he’ll do whatever he can to protect me. But will that promise stand if there aren’t any options? Even so, I stay here in the underworld until when? I die. They are immortal, but I’m not.

Panting uncontrollably, my hand shook too much to hold the water. Anand was next to me, taking it from me and capping it.

“Magic is entropic. It has always been and is the reason supernaturals don’t like interspecies breeding.” He flashed a wayward smirk at my response to his clinical description of having children. “The same with spells. Even people skilled at magic weaving make mistakes, because creating a spell from others can be like making a bomb with unstable ingredients. It’s the reason tried-and-true spells are usually used. People don’t use the archaic spells as much because there’s always the question of what will be lost in translation. I’ve seen spells go bad with deadly consequences. And I’ve witnessed miraculous results from spells that many were too afraid to try. Those, mostly with Dominic. He’s not feared for the things he’s capable of but because he’s resourceful and he rarely fails. I’ve known him all my life and I’m fully aware of what he’s capable of.”

“I was there when he entered the Conventicle’s meeting. They don’t just fear him. They don’t seem to like him.”

Anand shrugged. “That’s because he’s also an asshole.”

“They didn’t seem to like you, either,” I pointed out with a teasing nudge.

“I’m one, too.” The audacity. I needed just a tenth of it, I thought as I wiped away the tears that streamed down my face. Some from laughter but most from relief.

I gave Anand an appreciative smile as I stood up. “Ready.”

“Yes, but don’t kick my body opponent bag in his nonexistent—” He stopped for a moment. “Good and Plenty’s,” he added.

Nodding, I tossed my water in the corner. “Why? You having sympathy pains from hearing about it?”

“Definitely.” He started toward the body opponent bag, then his head jerked and he turned his head toward the door, alerted to a sound that I definitely couldn’t hear. Maybe the wind or something. When he sprinted out the door, I was feet behind him, unable to keep pace with his preternatural speed. I only caught up when he stopped at the entryway of the home where Nailah, the Seer, stood.

CHAPTER 11

Nailah’s unexpected presence had Dominic, Helena, Areleus, and his guards with their weapons drawn rushing toward her. Areleus halted the guards’ approach with a slight wave of his hand, then quickly dismissed them in response to her annoyance at their presence.

“Areleus, when was the last time you’ve had an invasion attempt from the other realms? Forty, fifty years? Are the guards really still necessary?”

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