Page 50 of Baneful Magick

“An alarm started in the dining hall saying all students had to report to their dorms,” Aizel started.

“I heard a few people talking about someone who hadn’t been seen since yesterday afternoon, but they were quickly silenced by professors. Didn’t manage to catch a name. It must be bad if they’re locking down the entire campus,” Echo finished.

“I wonder if we can find anything out.” Isla hummed, tapping her chin with a finger. “I’m going to get comfy in pajamas. Are you making tea, Echo?”

“Yes. For myself,” he told her with an amused glance. She pouted and gave him huge puppy dog eyes, staring until he shooed her away. “Fine! I’ll make you a cup too.”

“Well, if you’re offering…” his brother called out.

“I’ll make a whole damn pot then,” the incubus grumbled. “Moochers, all of you.”

Zhara laughed, the soft, husky sound making Aizel home in on the wolf shifter. He shifted his body closer to hers, and I looked away, not wanting to intrude, only to find Echo studying me.

“Tea?” he asked.

“Please,” I told him, suddenly self-conscious. I hoped he couldn’t tell I had been crying earlier. Usually, I was more composed, but Allison really knew where to aim her barbs. It didn’t help that I had gotten an email from my younger sisters telling me the lies our parents were spreading about me.

They had held a fuckingfuneralfor me, with all their prestigious “friends” in attendance. I was officially dead to my parents, and my life as I knew it was over.

Chapter 19

Ambrose

TUESDAY

“What the actual fuck is happening?!” Thatcher yelled, stomping into Vesper Hall. Maybe he meant to come off as intimidating, but he resembled a child mid-tantrum, trying to get what they wanted. In two words, fucking annoying.

“The school’s defenses have not been tampered with,” Professor Falke informed him sternly. His eyes flashed with menace, daring someone to question the effectiveness of his precautions. “Whoever the attacker is, they are within the school grounds.”

“A student?” President Thatcher asked as he approached our group of professors. Although most people moved out of his way, Julian and I stayed where we were. Thatcher shot us angry looks, but I just arched an eyebrow. Julian didn’t deign to acknowledge the other man’s annoyance. Brave vampire. If push came to shove, I’d have to admit I had a grudging respect for him. Not that I would willingly ever admit that out loud to the man.

“Who was attacked?”

“Another student,” I informed him blandly.

“Who?”

“There wasn’t much left of them to tell.” Falke joined the conversation, kicking a few chairs and tables out of his way. “I believe it was a female student, but I’m not even sure about that. Thatcher, you might be able to tell with your magick.”

“It’s President Thatcher,” he corrected the centaur haughtily.

“There’s a dead student on our watch! Titles are meaningless,” Falke replied to him, unimpressed.

Thatcher bristled and whirled around, going over to where the body had been discovered.

The student had been eviscerated; the body annihilated beyond recognition. If not for the student bag nearby, one would think it was roadkill or the remains of a shifter’s prey, left behind on the premises. Tufts of hair littered the ground, and the stone was marked by bloody streaks that told me the victim had been dragged. Parts of the body were missing. Had they been ingested, along with the missing organs? What could someone do with all those pieces?

Interested to see what Thatcher would make of it, I wandered over, aware that Falke and Julian were behind me. The other professors didn’t have the stomach to see the remains again.

Interestingly enough, the president didn’t puke when he saw the body. Instead, a cold gleam flickered in his eyes. It reminded me of my father the moment he found something that interested him. Being the focal point of his interest had never been a good place to be, and I had a suspicion this didn’t bode well either.

“They fought hard,” Julian murmured. “The drag marks start outside the building and end here.”

“A few bloody spots along the wall make it seem like they almost got away a few times.”

“Or they let them think they could,” I commented lightly. “Played a bit of cat and mouse with their prey until they killed them to make them... tastier.”

“Sounds like we should start our questioning with you, Ambrose,” Thatcher stated coldly, his eyes glued to the scene.

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