Demon Marked: Shadowguard Academy Book 2

by Samantha Britt

  It’s routine with Belial. He pulls me into a dream, shows me a breathtaking sight, and then tries to get information from me. But not important information like Shadowguard’s movements or plans. No, he focuses on being friendly.

  I tell myself he’s trying to make me lower my guard. And though that’s exactly what I’m trying to do to him, I have no interest in being the butt of his joke.

  “I can help you,” Belial says, stopping me in my tracks.

  I whip my head around. “What?”

  “I can help you tap into your magic.” He walks toward me. This time, I don’t move away. My heart is pounding.

  “Really?” Do I dare believe him? “How?”

  Gently, Belial taps my temple with his finger. “The block placed on you is powerful, but not without its flaws. I can help you dismantle it. I should’ve detected it sooner.”

  “Block?” I’ve never heard of such a thing. Well, not for a Guardian.

  Witches and warlocks can have blocks placed on them, but that only happens to criminals who haven’t already been dealt with by the Shadowguard. That magical community has specific rules its members are expected to adhere to, even though they aren’t technically illegal to the rest of the world.

  “Yes, there’s a block on your magic. Most likely, commissioned by someone who wanted to keep you hidden from the Shadowguard.”

  “My mom,” I whisper, my chest tightening to a painful degree.

  He nods. “That would be my guess.”

  My mother dealt with witches and warlocks? To put a block on my powers?

  “But why?” I voice the question, more confused than ever.

  “You know why,” Belial returns evenly. “Didn’t you say your mother kept the truth of the world from you? She never mentioned magic, sigils, or the Shadowguard.”

  That’s true, but it doesn’t make this revelation any less shocking.

  “But without magic, I’m basically defenseless. I won’t have a chance fighting a demon with my combat skills alone. They’d kill me easily.”

  “I would never let that happen,” he snarls with a protectiveness that’s grown familiar these past few weeks.

  I roll my eyes. I’ve gotten comfortable around the original demon. I know that’s not really a good thing, but I can’t help it. He’s the epitome of evil, and responsible for endless crimes against humanity, but he won’t hurt me. “You can’t protect me from within a dream, Belial.”

  The remaining space between us disappears. Our torsos nearly touch as my lungs fill with air. I suck in a breath when his finger wraps around a strand of my brown hair. He twists it into a tight spiral and breathes deep.

  “I enjoy hearing you say my name.” His warm breath fans my face.

  “Why? It’s just a name.” I pray he doesn’t hear my racing heart. Talk about embarrassing.

  “Because it’s my name, little mountain. And it’s rarely spoken without fear. I enjoy knowing you are no longer afraid of me.”

  “We’re in a dream,” I remind him. “You can’t hurt me here. But trust me, in the real world, I’d still run screaming if I saw you.”

  Humor crinkles the corner of his eyes with his smile. “You’re a bad liar.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I will not disagree with you.” His voice is gentle. He releases my hair, only to grab a new strand to play with. I focus on the movement. At this moment, it’s easier to look at his hand than his too handsome face.

  “What’s your game here?” I manage to choke out, forcing myself to look at him. Our first meeting plays in my mind. Belial had stood this close. He’d even kissed me. He’d been disappointed to learn I didn’t have magic. And he’d also stared oddly at my Shadowmark.

  As if hearing my thoughts, his eyes travel down the length of my arm, landing on the skin inside my elbow. The mark resembles double infinity marks intersecting in the middle. Growing up, I’d thought it was a weird birthmark, but now I know it marks me as a descendant of Thaddeus, the first Guardian God created after demons murdered his family.

  “Game?” Belial’s fingers abandon my hair, landing on my forearm, turning it so he can see my mark more clearly.

  “Yes. Why do you bother wasting time with me? I’m an untrained, magicless human.”

  “My time with you is never a waste.” His fingers trace the mark reverently. The light touch makes me shiver. “And as I just told you, you’re not magicless. Your powers are blocked. I can help you get rid of it.”

  “But why?” I stress the question, dipping my head to put me in his line of sight. Purple irises dilate and constrict as he focuses on my face. “Why offer to help me? What’s in it for you?”

  He assesses me, and I can see the debate he holds in his own mind.

  My eyes widen, shocked to think Belial might not understand his motives any more than I do.

  But no, that can’t be.

  Higher demons are intelligent and devious. They might not be able to lie, but they can deceive. That’s what this is.

  This act of uncertainty is a deception. Everything he does is deceptive. I can’t forget that.

  “Little mountain.” Belial exhales. “When will I earn your trust?”

  “When you stop demons from abducting my people.”

  There.

  I’ve said it. A direct request.

  Let’s see him smooth-talk his way out of this one.

  To my surprise, Belial releases a tired-sounding sigh. Then, he steps back. The air feels cold without him near. “I should let you rest.”

  I scowl. “You won’t even respond?”

  “There are factors at play that I am unable to change.”

  Wait.

  Was that a new piece of information?

  I try to keep the excitement from my face. “What do you mean?”

  But the slip of control is quickly reigned in. Belial shakes his head. “Rest. I will research how to remove your block and visit you again when I have information.” Our surroundings begin to blur—the telltale sign that the dream is moments from ending.

  “Wait!” The trees and sky are solid once more.

  “Yes, Aspen?” Belial’s eyes are bright as he stares at me. A host of emotions flicker in those purple irises, but the most notable is affection.

  I don’t want the dream to end, not when I finally learned something new. Belial could be an impenetrable fortress the next time we meet, and I would miss my chance to learn more.

  I lick my lips. His gaze zeroes in on the movement.

  “Y-you never told me what’s in this for you.”

  Crap. I’m screwing this up!

  Belial smiles, and the world resumes the fading process. He knows what I was trying to do.

  Ugh!

  I have no choice but to resign myself to the end of this meeting. It’s not like I have magic to hold the dream in place.

  The world diminishes into a blank, gray slate. But Belial and I remain solid.

  “Research more of your lineage, my Aspen,” Belial tells me, still wearing his handsome smile. “I look forward to hearing what you’ve learned the next time we speak.”

  “My lineage? What do you—?”

  My question dies when, with a wave of Belial’s hand, I’m cast out of the dreamworld, left with more questions than answers.

  But at least the dream hadn’t been a total waste.

  Despite being rudely cut off, I wake up with a grin. Immediately, I reach for my phone, not caring that the moon is still high in the sky. We finally have a new piece of information, and I can’t wait to tell Logan and see what else we can find out.

  Chapter Nine

  My pencil glides over the page in my notebook, tracing the same circled pattern over and over again as Master Jelani Osei speaks. The history professor is kind, but he has the most monotone and boring voice I’ve ever heard. It’s impossible for me to pay attention the entire class. Especially since I have so many other things to occupy my mind.

&nb
sp; It’s Monday, two days since Victor’s party and my first breakthrough with Belial.

  Well, breakthrough might be too strong a word. But it was definitely a success.

  We now know Belial isn’t pulling the strings for the Guardian abductions. Or, at least, he’s not the only one.

  Logan and I had discussed the matter Sunday morning at breakfast. I’d put money on Azazel, Belial’s fellow original demon, being the factor Belial can’t change. Logan isn’t so quick to dismiss Belial’s influence, but he’s agreed to share the intel with Victor and see if the vampires have any information on the other original demon.

  Now that the vampire’s agreed to work with us, Logan and I have upheld our end of the deal and told Victor the identity of the demon fascinated with me. But we’d refrained from telling him about my hijacked dreams.

  Needless to say, Victor had been shocked to learn one of the originals was the demon we planned to get intel from, but he didn’t renege on our deal. Thank goodness. We really need him and his network of spies.

  “Pst.” A sharp whisper pierces my ear.

  I glance over my shoulder with a raised brow. “What?”

  Peter gives a pointed look towards the front of the room.

  That’s when I notice the entire class’s attention is on me.

  Slowly, I turn around and meet Master Osei’s questioning gaze.

  Crap.

  “Miss Van der Klay?” The instructor addresses me, obviously not for the first time. “Did you hear me?”

  My face heats. “I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t sleep well last night. It’s hard to focus.” That’s not a total lie.

  Belial had surprised me with another visit the night after our most recent meeting. He’d had different ideas for how to break the block he claims holds my magic prisoner. But no amount of chanting, meditation, or pinpointed concentration had worked. I’d left the shared dream feeling more hopeless than I had at the beginning, and I’d stayed up most of the night, staring at the ceiling, as a result.

  The professor frowns, peering at me with disapproving, almond-shaped eyes. “I appreciate students have rigorous schedules at St. Michael’s, but that’s no excuse for not paying attention to my lectures.”

  “Of course not, Sir. It won’t happen again.” I sit up straight, determined to keep my word. Unlike Instructor Jones, I like and respect Master Osei.

  He holds my gaze for another second, then accepts my vow with a dip of his chin. “Can anyone tell me the names of the seven direct descendants of Thaddeus?”

  Several hands shoot in the air.

  “Miss Thibodeaux.” Master Osei calls on the mean girl.

  Begrudgingly, I turn to hear her response.

  “Thaddeus had seven children who survived to adulthood and had children of their own,” Lauren says with a flip of her hair. “Their names were Nassar, Emil, Ashur, Tamat, Zyion, Rael, and Hermona.”

  “Excellent.” Master Osei nods. “And does anyone know what is notable about Hermona?”

  Less hands rise this time.

  “Mr. Michael?”

  I spin in my chair and look at Peter.

  “Hermona was Thaddeus’s only daughter.”

  “Except for his first born,” Master Osei reminds him.

  “Yes,” Peter agrees.

  “Very good,” Master Osei praises with a wrinkled smile. “Anything else notable about Hermona? Miss Fredericks?” He calls on Nicole.

  The redhead clears her throat. “Hermona was the only child of Thaddeus who did not have a strong affinity for magic.”

  What?

  “Indeed,” Master Osei continues as if he hadn’t dropped a major bombshell. Then again…

  I glance around the room. None of my fellow first-years look surprised by the information.

  “Anyone have anything else to share?”

  I hear Lauren speak up, “All descendants of Hermona are subpar Guardians.” Her glare lands pointedly on me, making my stomach clench. She can’t possibly know about my lack of magical manifestation.

  Can she?

  “Now, I wouldn’t go quite that far,” Master Osei muses thoughtfully. “While it’s true Hermona never reached the magical skill of her six brothers, she still hunted demons. Her recorded deaths are nearly as high as her twin, Rael. But there’s still one piece of information you are all forgetting.”

  We look at one another, searching for the student who might know the answer.

  When no one speaks up, Master Osei gives a hint, “Anyone know who Hermona was named after?”

  “Oh!” Fiona, Lauren’s mean girl minion, calls out excitedly. “Yes! She was named after Thaddeus’s firstborn child. The one who was killed by demons.”

  “Very good, Miss Yaleman.” The instructor moves to his desk and retrieves packets of paper. He begins to pass them out. “Stories say that as the youngest child, as well as his only living daughter, Hermona was Thaddeus’s most cherished child.”

  “But Hermona was a twin,” Peter calls out.

  “The younger twin,” Master Osei confirms.

  “Daddy’s girl,” Fiona murmurs to Lauren. “Totally get it.”

  I almost roll my eyes.

  “In these packets you will find a detailed description of one of Thaddeus’s children, as well as some of their more notable descendants documented in our history. Use this packet as a starting point for your research. I expect a five-page, single spaced report to be turned in next Monday.”

  Several in the room groan, including me.

  Single spaced? Talk about harsh.

  Master Osei approaches my desk, and I quickly silence my groan. Instead of handing me the packet from the top of his stack, he slips his hand to the bottom.

  With a question in my eye, I look at the packet.

  Hermona

  Great. Just great. A magic reject is assigned a report on another magic reject.

  At least Hermona was able to be a Guardian despite her lack of skill. I can’t say will be so lucky.

  “Who’d you get?” Peter leans over my shoulder. His breath brushes the side of my face.

  I lift my packet.

  “Cool!” Peter grins and shoves his packet into view.

  Rael

  We’ve been assigned the twins.

  “I bet we can do a lot of our research together,” Peter tells me. “I remember my parents saying Hermona and Rael almost always teamed up when hunting.”

  “Really?” Maybe this report won’t suck that bad. Especially if I have someone to help me split the work, someone who actually knows something about Thaddeus’s descendants.

  Master Osei finishes handing out the packets. “I’ll dismiss class early with the hopes you will use this time to begin reviewing the information on your assigned ancestor. See you on Wednesday.”

  I glance at my smartwatch and see it’s only 11:30. He’s releasing us forty-five minutes early, and we don’t have Combatives until two.

  Grinning, I gather my belongings. Peter waits for me by his desk, and then we leave together.

  “So,” he asks, giving me a sideways glance. “I never had the chance to ask you how Saturday night went.”

  “It was fine,” I say cautiously. “I can’t really say much about it.”

  Peter and Cortney had wanted to ask me about my mysterious mission on Sunday, but I’d been preoccupied strategizing with Logan for most of the day. And then I’d come back to the dorm and passed out before dinner.

  Speaking of which, I’m starving. The granola bar I ate this morning is barely holding me over.

  “Do you want to get lunch early?”

  Peter blinks. “We usually eat with Cortney…” He doesn’t question my evasive answer or swift subject change.

  “Dang. You’re right.” I shake my head. Sleep deprived Aspen really doesn’t have her head on straight. “No worries. I can wait.”

  “We can go to my dorm and start researching for our papers. I have plenty of snacks in there.”

  I immediately jump on
the offer. “Sounds good to me!”

  We walk to the South wing of St. Michael’s. I haven’t been to the boys’ dormitories yet, and I frown when I see their building has been renovated much more recently than the girls’ dorms in the East wing.

  I voice my objection out loud, and Peter laughs.

  “Are you saying girls should get special treatment over guys? That’s not very feminist of you What about equality?” His remark draws the attention of a group of guys hanging out in the dorm’s common area. A sports channel plays in the background.

  I nudge Peter with my elbow. Hard. “Shut up.”

  He only laughs harder, then wraps an arm around me, tucking me into his side. “Come on, Aspen. You know I’m joking.”

  I try, and fail, to fight off a smile. “You’re so annoying,” I mutter under my breath.

  “But you love me,” Peter whispers back, putting his face close to mine so I can see his bright, joking grin.

  “Get it, Michael!”

  I look in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. A second-year student I’m not familiar with sits among the group in the common room. His gaze flickers between me and Peter, and he wears a meaningful grin. “Who knew you had it in you?”

  The other guys chime in with their agreement, nudging one another and gesturing towards us.

  It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the guy’s alluding to. Lucky for him and the others, they aren’t being vulgar, which saves them from black eyes, courtesy of my fists.

  Peter says nothing, just continues guiding me to his dorm. His face is void of emotion.

  When we walk inside, we’re greeted by a familiar face.

  “Hey, Freddy.” I throw myself into an unoccupied computer chair, assuming it’s Peter’s since Freddy sits in the one across the room. “What’s up?”

  Their dorm is at least twice the size of mine, but that’s not surprising. Peter is the descendant of the guy the school’s named after. It stands to reason he’d be given nicer accommodations. Still, I wonder if Cortney and I will be able to move into a bigger space next year.

  Freddy looks at me, wide-eyed, then turns his attention to Peter. “Shouldn’t you be in class?” He doesn’t even bother to return my greeting.