Page 55 of Magic of the Damned

He shook his head. “She won’t. Zara’s the best techno-witch because she leaves no evidence,” he admitted quietly.

“Or rather, there’s an illusion or compulsion spell with her magic. We’re just pawns whose minds you manipulate on a whim,” I spat out.

He stood taller, his hand shoved in his pocket, ignoring my barb.

“What about this?” I waved my hand around. “You can’t just make this go away, magic it away with illusions and manipulations. These are real things that were destroyed. Real consequences because of this. How much more do the people I care about have to suffer because of the supernaturals?”

“That’s enough, Luna,” he snapped.

“Enough. Yes, I’ve had enough.”

Anger had clouded all rational thought. I marched off, needing to get away from reminders of my predicament and another attempt on my life. I was furious at the supernaturals treating our lives and minds like game pieces to be manipulated at will to win whatever game they were playing.

The thrum of magic that brushed against my skin as I stared out the window seemed foreboding, now that I knew what it was. Before, I’d ignored the breeziness of air, viewed a slight fluctuation in the energy as innocuous—just my mind playing tricks on me, a stuffiness in a room that needed to be ventilated. There was something quite ominous about an area that was usually bustling around this time of day, now that no one was around. I didn’t believe in coincidences. Magic. It was all magic, and I hated it. I just needed to fix the situation. How?

Fixing the situation consumed me as people entered the store and left, and I took in more magic-drenched air. Watching the orchestrated removal of all evidence of supernatural existence left me awestruck. The cleanup crew. The people behind the machine who had done this so often, it was a methodical and efficient system.

Dominic’s placid face of indifference confirmed this was just another day for them. Murder a bunch of people, destroy a store, set books on fire—no problem, I got you covered.

Repulsed, I went outside, several feet from the store. Stared at the markings on my finger.

“Undo,” I whispered.

“Luna.”

I turned to see Jackson, who had been compelled to go home. I wondered, like the witch’s curse, whether the compulsion broke when the vampire died. He eased toward me, the arrogance and self-assurance muted, genuine concern and curiosity filling his eyes.

“Can we talk?”

“About what?” I asked. Magic? Because if you remember it, hell yeah, let’s discuss it. I was desperate enough to even collaborate with him. He’d become the lesser of two evils.

He shrugged. “I don’t know, you seem like you could use someone to talk to,” he said. “Let’s get a drink.”

Alarms went off. Apprehensive, I took several steps back. “Maybe another time.”

Something was off and I couldn’t put my finger on it.

He grasped my arm. “It doesn’t have to be a drink. Coffee?” He pointed in the direction of the Starbucks a few blocks away. His grip tightened at my attempt to tug out of his hold.

“Is everything okay?” Dominic asked.

Jackson released my arm.

“Everything is fine.” The contempt Jackson had for Dominic was the only thing consistent about him. “You know where to find me, if you need me,” Jackson entreated. Hints of desperation lingered in his voice as concern flooded his eyes.

Dominic pressed his hand to my back. Warmth crept along it, and I stayed in place as Jackson warily backed away, his shoulders drooped.

Things were indeed a mess if I was contemplating going to Jackson for help despite something being noticeably off about him. For a brief moment, I thought he could provide something Dominic couldn’t. Not quite safety—maybe a neutral zone? Or perhaps it was just familiarity. That’s what it was. Despite his recent unsavory role in my life, the weirdness going on with him, he was a version of normal, and nothing I was experiencing was anywhere near that now.

I wanted somewhat normal, even if it was in the company of Jackson.

CHAPTER 17

Inavigated from my world to Dominic’s massive estate in a fugue state, unable to get Jackson’s look of defeat out of my mind. It was as if he’d failed to stop an accident. Despite his unsettling mien, his insistency was protective. Even Helena’s searing glare as I passed her in the home’s entrance, arms crossed over her chest, couldn’t pull me out of my state and my debate over whether I should have left with him.

She extended her arms to her brother, showing him her magic-restricting sigils, her lips a thin tight line. “Remove it,” she demanded.

Helena sneered at Dominic’s hollow and dispassionate expression as he approached his sister.

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