Page 108 of The Aether

After catching his breath, Damian followed Beastie’s lead and approached the group, more than thrilled to see Isis join him.

“I would humbly request you not remove her magic, Sisters of Fate,” Isis stated. “The Dethridge power is woven into her DNA. You risk harming the child or her possible death, should you try.”

“She willed her magic into existence!” someone shouted from the audience.

“She is too powerful!” shouted another.

Murmurs of approval ran through the crowd, and Damian’s unease began to build in earnest.

“How ironic you all condone a witch hunt, considering you are all witches and warlocks,” he replied, addressing the crowd in a booming voice. Turning in a circle, he lifted his arms and gathered molecules from the atmosphere, tugging at the magical essence of those around him, with the exception of the deities, the Fates, and his family.

“Do you feel that?” he called out. “I’ve had this ability my entire life. My. Entire. Life. For centuries. But have I used it? Never for my own gains, and only when demanded by those in charge.”

“You lie!” a heckler called.

Extinguishing the drawing spell, Damian dropped his arms to his sides. “Please explain.”

Buttagier unrolled a parchment. “In recent years, you’ve murdered Moira Doyle, Loman O’Connor, Morcant Thywyll, and… Morgan Black.” He inhaled deeply as he tossed the paper aside. “There have been others. Deny it if you will.”

Even knowing it would sentence him to purgatory and his daughter to the whims of the Fates, Damian couldn’t speak false.

“Answering to recent circumstances, yes, I did eviscerate Moira Doyle,” he replied with a nod. “However, Loman O’Connor and Morcant Thywyll were not by my hand.”

“You sanctioned it, which is the same thing,” Buttagier said with a smug expression. “And you didn’t deny murdering Morgan,” he sneered in his anger.

“I did sanction those deaths, and yes, Morgan was at my hand. He was complicit in the kidnapping of my child and the temporary death of my wife. I will destroy anyone who seeks to hurt my family.” His tone was lethal, as was the look he cast the others. “My job, as defined by those higher than me, is to maintain balance in our community. All three of those people were deranged and sought to harm others by channeling magic that was not theirs to use.”

“You did it for the Oracle,” another called out.

“Yes. Had anyone gained what she possesses and, through her, what I possess, they could destroy you all. Are you too stupid to see it? Too blinded by your fear of me? Me, who has never sought to hurt a single one of you.”

“But your mother did!” Buttagier snapped. “What’s to stop you from doing the same?”

Isis waved a hand. “The Darkness has been contained. By our current Aether, I might add.” Crossing to Sabrina, Isis laid a hand on her delicate shoulder. “Also with the assistance of this child you would seek to harm.”

The crowd noise increased as they all conversed among themselves. Some whispered fiercely as their neighbors leaned in, all keeping their eyes on the group in the round. Others were louder, appearing to argue in favor of him and his daughter.

Damian felt the building energy behind him.

One by one, the spectators fell silent as they focused on whoever approached him.

The first to reach him were his lifelong friends.

“Alexander Castor. The Traveler,” he said, introducing himself with a cocky grin and a wink for the Fates.

The man beside him snorted and stepped forward. His tone was as arctic as his stare. “Alastair Thorne. Morcant Thywyll died atmyhand for poisoning my mate.”

The Guardian ambled forward, his duster billowing behind his long, lean frame as he rolled the ever-present chip across his knuckles. Giving Damian’s pocket a significant look, Draven locked eyes with him.

“Draven Masters. The apparent traitor to a broken system.” He didn’t bother to raise his voice, but his raspy Cajun accent carried to the stands regardless. “The Guardian whose powers the Oracle saw fit to fuse to my DNA. I trust her predictions, or I wouldn’t be here today.”

The next two in line took his place at the center of the round.

“Trevor Blane, and this is my brother, Simon.”

“We’re the resident Death Dealers,” Simon told them. “We are the two responsible for obliterating Loman O’Connor’s soul.”

“He had it coming,” a woman called out. “Evil fecker kept us imprisoned on an island to steal our abilities. These men liberated us, they did!”

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