Page 186 of Magic of the Damned

Trying to anticipate her intentions, I thought there were two possibilities: She’d release Celeste and form an alliance with her, or kill her and end the bloodline of the most powerful witches in the world. I was pretty sure it was the latter. Seconds from snatching the pepper spray hooked on my pants, I was able to conceal it from notice when Peter’s and Ophelia’s attention was drawn to thunderous footsteps descending the stairs. Rushing into the Perils, eight guards entered, swords in hand. Peter smiled at them as if they weren’t a threat, making several fierce rote movements. I ducked as black clouds of ether coalesced.

With a simple whisper of a spell, he materialized a mass of arrows. There were too many to count. At another sharp command, the arrows propelled through the air with the lethality of bullets. Agonized sounds reverberated off the walls and bodies thudded. Taking a shuddering breath, I looked back and confirmed the deaths of eight guards in a matter of moments.

“You’re a monster,” I whispered.

Peter’s satisfied smirk wavered, but the insult didn’t land or have the effect I wanted. His hands made more sharp movements while he recited another spell. I lunged to the side, bracing for the impact, but nothing happened to me. Out of my periphery, I saw a flare of light cover the stairway.

Where are you all? I feared they were still trying to get past the wards on the house or engaged in the fighting used as a delay tactic. My empathy was running thin for all who sided with Dark Casters.

Peter nodded. No remorse or self-reflection. There had been days when he’d battled with the cognitive dissonance, but he’d given in to power lust.

“I’d rather be the monster than the prey.”

That’s why Ophelia had returned his magic.

He eased closer to me. I shuffled back.

“What about you, Luna?”

“What?” I was splitting my attention between him and Ophelia, who appeared to be disabling the series of spells that kept Celeste behind bars. Illumination and sparks bled from the cloaked wards. From her intense focus, it wasn’t an easy task. Good.

“You realize Dominic and the others will die. You will not have any form of protection. The Conventicle and the Awakeners blame you for starting all this. That”—my eyes followed his to the Diax, which Ophelia had placed on the floor as if it was inconsequential—“means nothing.”

Did he know something I didn’t? My heart was thrashing with panic when he opened his hand and the Diax soared into his palm. He eyed it, his smirk darkening as he whispered a spell over it. Sparks flickered from the object, and a light field formed around it, protecting itself from Peter’s attack. His smirk drained into anger.

While destruction of the Diax had his focus, I said, “Peter.”

His eyes flicked up to me and he was assaulted with stinging mist. Pepper spray.

“Fuck,” he hissed when the irritant forced him to drop the Diax, which skidded a few inches away. Then I kneed him in his man berries. One hand went for the assaulted area while the other flicked at me, a protective burst of magic that pushed me back several feet. While he recovered, I scooped up the Diax and headed for the stairs, getting another look at the fallen guards. Peter’s strained mocking chortle hung in the air as I attempted to escape but smashed into the barrier he’d created. The opaque wall made it difficult to see if more guards were behind it, trying to get in. There had to be another entrance to the Perils.

Peter’s laugh cut short into a terrible gurgling. I turned to find Peter held against Dominic, whose claws were pressed into Peter’s neck, down which flowed rivulets of blood. A gold band formed around them. Opening my hand, I revealed the Diax to Dominic.

A look of pride and relief broke through his sneer. Ophelia was struggling to keep Ileana and Areleus at bay while still directing her attention to releasing Celeste. I couldn’t figure out why releasing Celeste was so important. Did she believe that releasing her would serve as a big enough distraction?

I wasn’t sure who was responsible for breaking the ward that kept Ileana and Areleus from Ophelia. Her suffocating rage consumed the room as she turned to face them.

Dominic instructed me to release the Diax. It fell to the floor, setting things in motion.

Ophelia directed her anger at me, whipping around. The golden ringlet that she’d threatened me with exploded from her hand. It was met with an impressive flare of magic that swelled around it and devoured it. Flushed and angry, Peter took the opportunity to try and escape Dominic’s hold. Dominic released him as Ileana recited the spell. The confidence that Ophelia and Peter wielded disappeared in a panicked reaction, their lips moving fervently, reciting spell after spell, trying to break the object and stop the spell. Fury washed over their faces as their magic weakened. Ophelia was the first to give up, backing away and returning to Celeste’s cell. A last-ditch effort to cause harm. Pepper spray in hand, I looked for an opening to get to her.

Areleus got to her first. With weakened magic, the gold ringlets were no longer at her disposal. A finger flicked and released a pitiful puff of magic that seemed almost comical. Blistering rage roiled off her and she misdirected it to me, as if I’d discovered the Diax. I’d only made sure it was in their presence to do its job. She lunged at me, and I spritzed her face with the irritant. Relieved of his magic, Peter was faced with the same problem. The inability to fight the royals without magic. He tried. Turning to Dominic, he punched him. Dominic caught his hand mid-strike, grabbed him by his throat, and pinned him to the wall. I didn’t miss the way he extended his fingers; with his diminished magic, calling for his claws was no longer an option. But his strength remained.

“Let me go,” Peter squeaked, scratching at Dominic’s hand. He fought until he lost consciousness. Through the chaos, Ileana let go of the concern she had for her son and returned her attention to the Diax that held the magic.

With the Book of Umbra in hand, she appeared frozen, seemingly unable to destroy the magic that held Dominic’s and the Casters’. She’d lost her ruthlessness and cold-hearted objectivity.

“You don’t have your claws,” she said to Dominic. He would adapt, but razor-sharp weapons at easy disposal was something he’d not quickly adapt to. How could he?

“Do it,” Dominic commanded.

That moment of hesitation cost them because Areleus snatched up the Diax and gathered up tidal waves of magic.

Securing the Diax in the palm of his hand, he demanded that Ileana give him the book.

“He doesn’t have his claws. I do. I will not hesitate to take your heart,” he said at her refusal. The cool indifference in his words was echoed in his eyes. Immortals were difficult to kill. Dominic hadn’t been too enthusiastic about telling me the ways in which they could be killed.

Drawing back her lips in a challenging sneer, her fingers made distinct movements and the air thickened with an energy that reminded me of how it felt when she removed the magic in the warehouse. But she didn’t have time to create the sigils to create the magic.

---