Page 74 of Wicked Chains
"I heard something." Ollie glances at the door, as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment. "Mr. Ash was talking to another Blood Moon Coven member."
"And?" I prompt.
"They were arguing. About Helena." Ollie's voice drops even lower. "Mr. Ash said she was becoming more of a problem than he'd anticipated. That she was 'endangering valuable assets.'"
My mind immediately goes to Hank, to Helena's attempt to kill him just to hurt me.
"And then he said something else." Ollie pauses, eyes darting to mine. "He said maybe they'd aligned themselves with the wrong sister. That Jasmine, for all her faults, at least understood the value of preserving assets rather than damaging them out of spite."
I frown. It doesn't make sense. Everything I've heard about Jasmine makes her sound worse than Helena. She was locked up for consuming other witches' magic, literally consuming them. “Are you sure he was talking about Jasmine Wickersly?”
Ollie shrugs. "I'm just telling you what I heard, miss. Maybe it’s nothing. But I thought you should know.”
"You think he was talking about me," I say flatly.
Ollie nods. "He specifically mentioned Helena's incident with your familiar. Said it was exactly the kind of shortsighted behavior that could jeopardize everything they've worked for."
I try to process this, closing my eyes trying to think through the implications. If Ash thinks that Jasmine might have been a better alliance than Helena, that means a few things: One, the situation with Helena is worse than I thought. Two, there might be a power struggle happening within the Blood Moon Coven. And three, most disturbing of all, Ash might think an alliance with Jasmine would be better for controlling me.
"Thank you for telling me this, Ollie," I say finally, opening my eyes. "I appreciate the risk you're taking."
He gives me a small, tired smile. "You should go. The halls will be emptying out soon."
"Thank you, Ollie. Really."
I slip out, my mind whirling with everything I've just learned. If Ash is considering aligning with Jasmine over Helena, if there's some kind of internal squabbling in the coven, then maybe there's an opportunity here. A crack in their front that I could exploit.
Or maybe I'm just trading one monster for another, the evil I know for one I don't. Things didn’t get all that much better for me with Victoria gone. Either way, I have a lot to think about. Things just got a whole lot more complicated.
And in Serpentine Academy, "complicated" usually means treacherous for my health and well-being.
Thirty-Three
Ash
Rose Smith is going to ruin me.
The realization comes as I watch her from my office window, that curvy figure moving across the quad with purpose, hair unbrushed, jacket unbuttoned, looking more like a sloppy undergrad than the most powerful asset a coven has ever acquired. It should be beneath me to fixate on her like this, especially when her only distinction is the cursed blood running though her veins. But here I am, stalking her like a lovesick teenager.
She was with the vampire again. I watched as he offered her a book, his hand lingering on hers. Not for the first time, I imagine tearing his hand off at the wrist and shoving it up his asshole.
The inexplicable jealousy burns through me, the irony is so rich it’s almost funny. I lived my life with one purpose—restoring the Blood Moon Coven to full strength—only to find myself obsessed with the object of our victory, a girl who should mean nothing to me except her potential as a source of pure magic. And yet.
I head toward the faculty lounge, hands in my pockets to keep from punching something. The rare student who dares to look me in the eye gets a curl of my lip and a narrowed glare. They scatter quickly, as they should.
I push open the heavy door to the lounge, expecting silence, but I’m greeted by the grating of the demon’s voice, and the click of billiard balls on the staff table. Soren’s stretched out on the couch, a mug of black coffee cradled in one hand. He looks up, and the corners of his mouth lift in a knowing, infuriating smile.
“Care for a game?” he asks, voice syrupy as sin.
I ignore the question and cross to the counter for a mug of my own.
Soren rises from the couch, gliding over to me in three steps. He leans against the counter, arms crossed, his tattooed forearms on display.
"Don't you have somewhere else to be, Professor?" I ask, pouring coffee into my mug, the dark liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. "Students to corrupt, perhaps?"
His smile only widens. "I've corrupted my fair share today. Though not as many as I'd like."
I can smell Rose on him. I've known incubi to feed before, but this is different. He's linked to her in a way that goes beyond the typical predator-prey dynamic.
