Page 59 of Baneful Magick

Ambrose

THURSDAY

Her kiss was almost as sweet as I imagined her blood tasting. The sensation of Isla’s lips had lingered on mine when I got back to my room last night. I didn’t even smoke any opium. Instead, I’d sprawled on my chaise so I could savor her as long as she stayed on my tongue.

Her response had been delicious, but it hadn’t been the right time, so I exercised every ounce of my self-control to keep from stripping her and burying myself inside of her right there in the woods. Plus, we had an audience. I did many things, but putting a partner on display without their permission wasn't one of them. Us faedidhave standards.

What was Isla thinking about our moment? Would she try to avoid me in the days to come? A game of back and forth could be fun if played correctly.

“Ambrose!” a thunderous voice called out, rudely interrupting my thoughts of Isla.

Falke was pushing his way into my classroom, a serious scowl on his face. His long hair was tied back in braids, and there was blood on his hands.

“Kian?” I asked, standing up with real concern as the centaur got closer.

“The conservatory is going into another lockdown. We have another body, and Thatcher won’t be able to sweep it under the rug.”

“Where?” I asked, already stalking around my desk and out the door.

We hurried out of the building just as magick filled the air. Students stopped in place, watching the sky, their mouths agape, as a glimmering shield of red and black created a dome over the entire campus.

This was fucking bad.

Thankfully, the smoky haze meant it wasn’t the full defensive shield, just one to keep us all inside. Thatcher was the only person on campus that could trigger that shield.What the hell happened with this other student?!

Magickally enhanced voices yelled out, ordering students to report to their dorms as the buildings would lock themselves in ten minutes. There was a moment of stillness which transformed into absolute chaos when people began to rush to safety.

The centaur and I were seemingly in a bubble since everyone gave us a wide berth. I’d normally assume it was our status as professors, but it likely had more to do with the amount of blood still covering Falke. He painted quite the intimidating picture.

Movement from across the quad signaled that we weren’t going to be alone for long. Julian and Bricriu were coming our way. Falke silently arched an eyebrow at the bone fae’s presence, but I didn’t share that restraint.

“I thought all students were reporting to their dorms?” I asked pointedly, staring at Bricriu.

“We need his assistance with the pieces,” Julian replied without missing a beat. His tone was even, purposefully blank.

“Pieces?” My brow furrowed in confusion, but it all made sense when we arrived at the school’s greenhouse.

There was no missing what had happened thanks to the blood flowing down the glass panes. Body parts were scattered along the roof. Even from this distance, I could tell the corpse was incomplete, same as the first. Bricriu made more sense now.

“There’s no head,” I said, looking at the others. “The first one had theirs.”

Falke nodded in agreement. “But it was disfigured enough that we couldn’t identify the student.”

Luckily, the greenhouse had been cleared of students. Only the herbology professor was inside, wringing her hands as we approached.

“Professor Belvedere,” Julian addressed her softly. “We will look into this. There is no need to stay around.”

“Oh, Bricriu, thank the goddess. At least you’re accounted for.” She waved her hands around, the trembling in her fingers impossible to miss. “I was worried when you didn’t show up this morning.”

“President Thatcher wanted to speak with me,” Bricriu replied after a moment, his voice carefully blank. He shifted from foot to foot, which betrayed some kind of discomfort. Was it the matter of the dean, or was he simply uncomfortable under the weight of her concern? Bricriu was used to disdain being directed at him, not genuine interest from someone who cared.

She kept talking without acknowledging his reply. “I had another missing student this morning. Could it be?—”

“Who?” Falke asked her pointedly. He hated dealing with ramblings.

“Isla Hallowes.”

Ice filled my veins.

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