Page 138 of Magic of the Damned

My arms shook as I held them out. The room flooded with energy as I felt the caress of the magic around me, providing an analgesic effect that left me numb and my body lethargic. I struggled to keep my eyes open. There were some quick slashes of the knife. I saw the crimson liquid run down my arms but didn’t feel a thing as Ileana lowered me to the ground. Fading in and out, I heard Ileana speaking in a rapid clip. Words rushed over me and a noticeably different magic began to slink around me. A mist floated over me as my eyelids flickered to stay open. It moved closer, spreading over me and tugging at my body. I gave in to the darkness, falling away from it and life.

Ileana’s voice was a low melodic entreaty that felt so far away. She asked me to respond but I couldn’t muster the energy to do so. Feeling weighted down with a boulder, I tried to push past it and through the murkiness that had consumed me. It didn’t feel right. Dark, dank, and draconian. I felt misplaced. Ileana’s voice became more pleading and laced with a deep sorrow. Consumed by an emptiness that I couldn’t escape, desperation and fear settled in.

Ileana said my name, but my mouth couldn’t form words to answer. My body wouldn’t cooperate enough to give her a sign that I could hear her. That I was alive. But I wasn’t alive. I didn’t think I was. There was too much emptiness. I was a hollow husk. I could feel more magic tugging at my body, energy winding around it. A flare of light. I attempted to reach for it with arms that previously wouldn’t cooperate. But now they floated with featherlight weight toward it, dragging the rest of me with it. I emerged from the darkness. My restricted movement was a result of being wrapped in Ileana’s arms. When I squirmed, she released me with a smile of relief that made her face brighten as much as the room.

“That’s you,” she told me.

With each breath I took, the lights brightened like a heartbeat. Squinting at the brightness, I asked, “How do I get it to stop?”

“You tell it to and then force it to your will.”

It couldn’t be that easy. And it wasn’t.

“Stop,” I whispered.

Nothing. As the light violently pulsed, my body whirred. It was nothing like when I borrowed magic from Madeline. Everything about it was painful and wrong. A rejection of magic that wasn’t mine. It was a strange dichotomy, a soothing harmonious hum and an energetic burst of adrenaline. I had no idea what to do with it.

Closing my eyes, I took in a deep breath, trying to reconcile the two opposing energies in me. Control them. Make peace with this being the new me. The new Luna. And when I opened my eyes again, the room was a muted glow around me and Ileana was standing against the wall with a smile.

“I think you will be a quick learner,” she said. It was the first time there wasn’t a tightness of apprehension in her voice. “You can come in,” she whispered.

The vines curled away and disappeared, the bronze locks vanished, and Dominic was quickly at my side, his eyes roving slowly over me with an expectant look. Inconspicuously, I ran my hand through my hair—no horns. There wasn’t a way to check my back for wings and butt for a tail.

From Dominic’s smirk, it was apparent he knew what I was looking for. He stood next to me—my height hadn’t changed, either.

“Luna, the same Luna,” he whispered against my lips before kissing me in a wholly inappropriate manner in front of his mother. I abruptly ended the kiss and put a few inches between us, shooting a look at his mother, who was unbothered. I’d never get used to their family.

“Now it’s time to teach you how to use your magic,” Dominic asserted.

CHAPTER 23

Dominic whisked me away to a large room that could only be described as minimalist. A table against the wall held a stack of spellbooks, a small metal bowl, and a tray with an array of bottles filled with various colored ingredients. One I was sure was salt. An oversized lounge chair was placed in the corner. Weapons: a sword, dagger, and sai stowed on the wall. In the middle of the room, a large rug with sigils burning in it. I could see specks of a rust-color powder on it.

“A containment circle,” he said, breezily responding to the careful attention I paid to the strange rug. “Sometimes visitors require encouragement to answer my mother’s questions. In the circle, magic is restricted so they are at my mother’s mercy.”

“A torture rug,” I clarified.

His shrug was dismissive. “I’ve never been in the circle. I’m not sure of its capabilities.”

“I don’t need protection from the truth.”

“Not quite a torture rug, but it is capable of causing a great deal of pain if you find yourself enclosed in it.”

I nodded and gave an Oscar-worthy performance at seeming unbothered by the confirmation.

“People are intrigued by my mother and her magic. As you’ve seen, it is quite extraordinary. There are some who wish to have access to it, by diplomacy or force. Diplomacy is used initially, and when that fails…” He let the rest linger in the air as if he didn’t want to remind me of the world we were in. “And she has made it abundantly clear she wishes to be left alone. Very few people know how to negotiate the barriers she has in place. When they are breached, she likes to know the source of such information.”

“You added a flare to give them a chance to rethink such a stupid endeavor.”

“Not just for their sake, but hers. The more you torture and murder, the less bothered you become by it. Even thirst for it. It is better that she doesn’t revisit the violence she enjoyed before. Her creatures seem to fulfill her. It is better for everyone that they continue to do so.”

We were in agreement on that.

“The first and most important thing you need to learn is a protective barrier.”

“So I can hide.”

“No, so you can protect yourself and live to fight another day.”

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