Page 112 of Magic of the Damned

Feeling full and fueled helped, though my body still felt odd. The rubbery feeling had gone but I ached and felt an uneasiness, as if I hadn’t completely settled into this world, a disconnect I couldn’t quite describe. Grabbing a handful of chocolates that reminded me of the rich and decadent ones I had in the underworld, I handed Emoni a few. Her expression mirrored the way I felt, nibbling on one. Taking another bite, she savored it the way she did dark roast coffee.

I nodded and took a seat. Emoni finished the chocolate, which I quickly realized she’d been using as a temporary distraction. There had to be some part of her that knew things were about to get strange. Dominic and Anand took the coffee she offered, and once she’d gotten a cup for herself, she stood against the kitchen nook with it in hand.

“What’s been going on, Luna?” she breathed out. The touch of desperation in her words made my heart ache for the betrayal she had to feel. She was my best friend, and despite my desire to protect her, I didn’t think I’d done the right thing by keeping this from her.

Taking a deep breath, I looked to Dominic who had taken a seat next to me on the sofa, and to Anand who was seated in the kitchen a few feet from where Emoni stood, a small smile of appreciation for the coffee on his face. Emoni grinned in his direction, the interest piqued when she’d met him in the café now renewed. Being coffee snobs seemed like a poor foundation for any attraction, but I’d seen weirder.

I started by telling her about Peter. She didn’t seem the least bit surprised that he turned out to be a horrific magic wielder. Peculiarly, she was taking the influx of information well.

“He has very strong magic and he used me to release prisoners from the underworld,” I repeated with emphasis, expecting more emotion than her slowly nodding her head and sipping from her cup. The only departure from her head nodding was her shifting to change position against the nook. She clutched the counter for support when I told her about a vampire compelling her to deliver me to Peter. She paled when she learned of Peter doing the illegal necri spell that essentially sentenced her to death. I told her that Dominic had saved her life, although I left out the bit about him being reluctant to do so because it prevented him going after Peter. She faltered when I explained that her memories had been altered to forget the entire incident.

Anand’s cup was on the counter and he was next to her in a matter of seconds, giving her a firsthand example of his preternatural speed. Grimacing at the display and his presence next, she closed her eyes and took in several long, measured breaths. The silence extended from beats to minutes as she struggled with that information.

I gravitated to her side and placed a hand over hers. She felt cool and her stance became stiff. She was going to pass out.

“Emoni,” I whispered.

“I’m fine,” she assured me. She wasn’t fine. There were noticeable cracks in the brave face she was putting forward. It was only a matter of time before it shattered.

“I’m sorry I brought you into this,” I said.

She shook her head before her gaze drifted to Anand, who was still standing close to her as if he was waiting for her to lose it. Despite the heaviness of the situation and her clearly being affected by it, she seemed to determine to not give Mr. Supernatural a reason to rescue her. A small snort of laughter burst from me before I could control it. Her pettiness was endearing and reminded me of her getting Jackson’s order wrong every time he came into the café after our breakup, or writing ‘cheating asshole’ on his cups. It was Emoni in protective mode, and now she was showing that we had this, that we could deal with whatever was thrown our way. Her resolute personality always emboldened me.

She turned, addressing Anand. “What type of magical creature are you? Vampire?”

He sneered.

“I don’t think he likes vampires,” I whispered.

She looked confused, understandably so. I’m sure she’d done what I had and formed a division between human and not human. It was easy to do when you didn’t understand the nuances, history, politics, and motives. A lot of it was still confusing to me.

“I’m a shifter. Wolf shifter.”

Her disconcert became intrigue. “Can I see it?”

“I can’t change.”

Confusion swept over her face again and she looked to me for answers.

“It’s a long story,” I said. “Let me finish telling you everything.”

Whatever resolve remained in her, she shored up to get through the rest. Her gaze continued to drift to Anand with a fierce curiosity. A seraphic-looking shifter who couldn’t change, lived in the underworld, and refused to offer her any more information than that. I debated whether she needed to know the entirety of his history. Her interest would lead to more questions once we were alone, that much I knew, but his story wasn’t mine to tell. I hoped she could respect that. Knowing her as I did, she’d respect my boundaries but wouldn’t be afraid to ask the source. There was going to be an interview.

Her acceptance of this strange new world wavered at Dominic’s role as Prince of the Underworld and dissolved when I told her about me being a vessel and being used to imprison us in the underworld, and what was done to escape. Dominic took over the retelling of breaking the spell that had imprisoned us, filling in the blanks in the story that I was missing.

The new information lingered in the silence as she rummaged through my cabinets and pulled out a nearly full bottle of peach-flavored vodka we’d opened a few weeks ago during our movie night: an excuse to drink, chat, eat snacks and food with zero nutritional value, under the guise of binge-watching TV. She poured out her coffee, rinsed the cup, filled it with vodka, and then took a long drink.

“You’re the underworld’s prince? What’s your designation? Vampire, witch, a nonchanging shifter?” She flashed a playful grin in Anand’s direction.

“None of the above,” he said. His ethereal movement had him inches from her, claws exposed with the ease of showing her his nails. She took it in with a shuddering breath.

“That’s the only thing that changes?” she asked, then took another long drink.

He nodded. “I can perform magic and spells, but it has its limitations, as with anyone. Whereas vampires can compel, I can manipulate memories. But I don’t survive on blood. I’m immortal and very difficult to kill.”

“So, if I staked you?” she challenged.

“It would anger and hurt me.” After another long drink, her gaze dropped to his chest. A stake through the heart would just hurt.

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