Page 158 of Magic of the Damned

“Come,” she ordered in a rushed whisper. Her hold moved from my arm to a firm cuff around my wrist, tugging me farther out the door. I rummaged through all the new faces I’d encountered over the weeks. Nothing about hers was familiar, but I couldn’t tamp down the feeling that I’d met her before. Stumbling under her pull as she rushed me from the building, I yanked my wrist away once we had taken several paces.

“Who are you?” I demanded in a breathless huff, putting some distance between us. The amiable smile didn’t waver, nor the staunch self-assurance, which I’d learned meant I was dealing with someone powerful.

“Help. Luna, I’m help.”

Not a name nor an acceptable answer.

“What’s help’s name?” The question came out like a challenge because my internal alarms were telling me she wasn’t the kind of help I wanted.

“Ophelia.”

I doubted that was her real name and wondered if she’d given it because it was Greek for help, or twisted foreshadowing to a tragedy like Hamlet’s Ophelia. Nothing about the choice seemed coincidental.

A smile tugged at her lips as she watched a shade in an upright position, using its wings to jump steps while he moved past us toward the warehouse. More people filing into the warehouse made her smile grow wider. I assumed it was the Awakeners. The reverent looks they offered her in passing quickly clued me to who she was. Like Peter, she’d been wrapped in an innocuous package.

Having the benefit of surprise as an advantage, I lunged at her. We crashed to the ground. Rolling her onto her stomach, I twisted her arm behind her back, shifting my weight to give me leverage and keep her secured against the ground.

“Stop,” she whimpered in a voice so pitiful and pained, it gave me a moment of pause. She had to be. I wasn’t wrong. This was the person who stole my magic. Killed the Awakeners who hadn’t joined her or managed to escape.

She sobbed. “Let me go.”

The second-guessing gnawed at me. The doubt was firmly planted. The treachery, switches in alliances, and betrayals had me questioning myself.

Listen to your gut, Luna. Something is off.

“I know who you are,” I said, tightening my hold. “Do not play with me.” Clearly, I’d been around violence too much because now my only thoughts were ending her and putting a stop to it all. Would her death send the shades back to the Underworld? What would dealing with a destabilized group of Awakeners be like? Could my life return to an imitation of normal where I’d pretend vampires, witches, shades, shifters, and other magical beings didn’t exist? Where I believed the most dangerous thing to me was a person who thought the movie was better than the book?

An invisible tendril wrapped around me, ensorcelled in magic. It squeezed and sent a shocking pain through me. Tears blurred my vision, and my pained shriek continued to ring in my ear. She’d tossed me off her. As she attempted to stand, I swiped her leg with mine, sending her back to the ground with a shocked gasp of surprise.

People underestimating me worked to my advantage. Straddling her, I attempted to secure her arms that were swiping wildly at me while a violent soundtrack of fighting in the warehouse commenced in the background.

Expecting a vicious retaliation that never came, I tried to think of a way to secure her. My scream for Anand with his exceptional hearing was cut off at the first syllable when my body seized in a fit of pain, an invisible vine coiling around my neck, applying enough pressure to allow just small wisps of breaths to seep through. The vine began to pulse, allowing full breaths before cruelly cutting them off. A display of skill and power. I didn’t have magic, and if I did, wouldn’t have honed it to any level to be a challenge to her. A flood of hopelessness came over me, but it was rapidly replaced by a burst of anger. Gathering all my oxygen-deprived strength, I punched her. Shock covered her face and the magic assault stopped. As a dark smirk worked its way to her lips, I responded with another punch that landed on her nose.

My first fight had been with one of the most dangerous and powerful beings in the world, and I hated it. Never wanted to do it again. I fought the urge to close my eyes to avoid seeing the blood spilling from her nose. The sight of blood shouldn’t bother me, I’d seen so much of it lately, but it did, and I found some comfort in knowing that suffering still bothered me. Somehow, I managed to hold on to my humanity despite a deep-seated desire to pummel the woman under me. At least I could knock her out cold.

My third strike attempt. All traces of amusement and civility dropped from the mask she presented, mutating to a cold ominous steel that sent shivers through me.

“Now I’m debating if you’re worth saving,” she said, her voice matching the look she gave me. Magic in full force without a shred of mercy. A vice grip formed around my throat and body, crushing me. Immobile, I struggled for every breath. With magic, she tossed me off her.

On the ground, I struggled, clawing at the magical vine around me. There was nothing to grab. I needed to stop the source. The Dark Caster stood, squared her shoulders, coming to her full height. A portentous presence. A golden halation flowed from her and covered me. I battled the darkness that threatened to take over. With a last-ditch effort, I grabbed her before collapsing.

The blackness receded. She wasn’t trying to kill me—just subdue me. That was more troubling because obviously she viewed me as of use to her. Not disposable right then, but her casual display of power was a reminder that if I was no longer of value, she could easily dispose of me.

“Ansel—” Her lips turned up in disgust. “Peter—he is deserving of his human name?—

proved to be useless. You’ve spent time with Dominic, Helena, and Areleus and,” her brow cocked, “their mother. Have you meet Ileana?”

That was my use. Information.

My lips tightened in a painful thin line to ensure not one bit of information escaped. Sneering at my resistance, she placed a hand on my shoulder and a jolt ran through me. I wailed. The sound hung in the air. Her dark smirk widened.

“Have you met Ileana?” There was desperate longing in her interrogation.

When I didn’t answer, she delivered another painful jolt that wracked my body. Constant and unrelenting. Tears blurred my vision.

“Stop, please,” I said between the choked gasps. “I can’t think.”

“You have to think about whether you’ve met Ileana?”

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