Page 165 of Magic of the Damned

She excitedly told me about her next bookings and how it was heartbreaking to find out that one of her songs became a sound on TikTok and that I’d missed it.

Hearing that, I’d never wanted to walk away more. Just say screw it to all of it—and force them to accept that. This wasn’t my fight and I should be able to bow out. Power-hungry people wanting a civil war shouldn’t mean I had to miss my friends’ successes and not be there to celebrate with them. The insistence on secrecy. Me stumbling into the middle of it just because of a series of unlucky events. It wasn’t all bad, though. In the chaos, deplorable situations, and violence, I’d found something special with Dominic. Initially, I thought it was just physical, but it was more than merely amazing sex with a gorgeous man. I was a priority to Dominic, whereas with my ex, Jackson, I was often treated as an afterthought. The effect the royals’ decisions had on human life hadn’t meant much to Dominic before, but now it was a consideration. I adored the way I felt when he was near, when he touched me. Even the way he looked at me. I wanted him in my life. That reason alone kept me from trying to figure out a way to burn it all to the ground so I could have my old life back.

Reluctantly, I pushed aside the fantasy of ending this, because fantasy is all that it was. I was left with the guilt of a worrying brother, sharing in my best friend’s successes days too late, and feeling like an observer rather than an active participant in my life.

The lump in my chest grew, and as Emoni enthusiastically retold the event, sadness crept in.

“What’s with the face?” she asked.

I shook my head, the words caught in my throat. It took several moments before I could speak. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to share that with you.”

She smiled. “You’re acting like it won’t happen again. It will. And you won’t be dealing with Underworld realms, wars, and weird creatures of the night—or is it day—or whatever. Creepy magicals that live among us.”

Emoni expelled a whoosh of breath when I pulled her into a big hug. “You’re the best friend a person could ever ask for,” I whispered into her ear.

“I know,” she whispered. “I should get some type of commendation,” she teased.

When Emoni had run out of news and I was left alone with my thoughts, worry reared its ugly head, so I tried distracting myself by cleaning my apartment and occasionally paying attention to the subtitles of a drama that had captured Emoni’s attention. But my mind kept slipping into listing all the things that could go wrong. Emoni pulled her attention from the tv and scrutinized me.

Offering me a weak smile, she said, “No news is good news, right?”

“When has that ever been true?” I challenged.

“I know.” She squeaked out of a weird excitement in our shared belief. “That’s the worst platitude, isn’t it? You’re going to hate me for saying this, but you will have to wait and deal with it. What’s the alternative?”

She was right. Nodding, I abandoned cleaning and plopped down next to her.

“Let me see the synopsis and catch me up.” She was more than happy to catch me up on the enemies-to-lovers college drama.

The show was distracting enough that I startled at the abrupt, commanding knock at the door. Expecting Dominic, I rushed to it, only to find his mother.

I silently mouthed to Emoni who it was. Her expression was an amalgamation of fear, curiosity, doubt, and the need to escape danger at the idea of meeting her. Glassy eyes seemed to be recounting all the things I’d told her about Ileana. The desire to flee overrode the other emotions.

Ileana’s otherworldly appearance stood in stark contrast to the urban environment outside my apartment. Seeing her without the backdrop of verdant trees and forestry, vibrant flowers, and her peculiar creatures roaming about was uncomfortable, and her discomfited appearance showed it. Wearing a flowing satin gown that shifted and shimmered in hues of violet and silver, her commanding presence evoked the diametric feeling of fear and draw. Unlike the royals, she didn’t seem capable of managing some semblance of assimilation. Her command of the space was undeniable.

“Ileana,” I whispered with an attempt to add as much reverence as I could.

Emoni pulled me from the door, grasping my wrist in what was either a show of solidarity or an urgency to run like hell. Her grip on me tightened as annoyance washed over Ileana’s face when the ward illuminated and prevented her entering. Pressing her hand to it, she whispered a few words, her expectant look disappearing when the ward remained intact.

“The ward.” Her crisp voice requested the removal. I had to pry myself out of Emoni’s grip, who would have been fine with the conversation taking place behind the safe confines of the ward.

“It’s fine,” I whispered, but her doubtful expression didn’t change.

Once I broke the ward by stepping over the threshold, Ileana brushed past me.

“This is Dominic’s doing?” she asked.

I nodded. “Dominic’s magic is increasingly impressive,” she said, pride replacing the irritation in her voice. She took in my apartment with a sweeping look before turning her appraisal to Emoni. A smile curled her lips. It was warmer than I remembered her extending to either me or Dominic.

In a warm and melodious voice, she said, “I’m here to help, not harm.”

It made me wary of the ease with which she slipped into the facade of being innocuous.

“Is Helena alright?” she asked.

If she didn’t know, I didn’t feel comfortable telling her. She searched my face for something.

“Why did you ask that?” Was it intuition or a magical connection?

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