Academy of Assassins

by Stacey Brutger

  It was both beautiful and exotic…or it could have been if the gray mist hovering so ominously on the horizon didn’t appear to be consuming all the light. Even from the distance, she sensed a wrongness to it that sent a shiver of dread down her spine. Though it was disturbing to look at it, she was even more afraid to blink, petrified it would move closer if she took her eyes off it even for a second. “What is that?”

  Draven’s mouth tightened. “It’s kind of like magical residue. This realm was created and held together by magic, but people are slowly syphoning the magic off for their own purposes. Without magic, the world is dying.”

  “No, not dying. They’re killing it.” Morgan was horrified at how far people would go for power.

  To destroy something so beautiful was criminal.

  “Can’t they bind the people from using magic?”

  Draven gave her a cynical smile. “The people who need to be banned are the very ones who are in charge of the decision. No way would they give up their power for something so tiresome as saving their planet.”

  Her gut churned as bile climbed the back of her throat. “That’s why they need me, why they want to build a bridge to Earth. They want to plunder our world, and are willing to kill our realm to save their own.”

  “Not going to happen.” Kincade interrupted, then glanced over her head. “Ryder has recovered. Time to head out.”

  Morgan turned, but Ryder didn’t seem any better, and she said so.

  “His species are not from this world, or rather, they’ve been gone from it for too long. The magic in the atmosphere is slowly poisoning him. His wolf will help him adapt, and his body should regulate after a bit.” Draven sounded grim. “Others aren’t so lucky.”

  Morgan stared at him in sickening disbelief. “You. The guys. The students.”

  “We’ll be fine for awhile. We’ve traveled through the void often enough that it acts like an inoculation, but most of the students don’t have our immunity or Ryder’s beast to filter the magic. Some have been Earthside too long. If we don’t get them out of here soon, they will die whether your cousin kills them or not.” He cast a critical eye over her, then smiled. “You appear fine.”

  “I—” Morgan shrugged and confessed the truth. “It feels like home.” If anything, she felt better, stronger than she had in a long time. The magic in her bones was a pleasant buzz, no longer fighting her, the markings on her back silent for once. The eerie feeling of something foreign living under her skin, the wild urges to hunt, the sense of not being normal, vanished.

  “We need to move.” Atlas slipped into the room, keeping his attention on the hallway. “If they don’t know we’re here already, they will soon.”

  Morgan exhaled, then closed her eyes and focused on the obsidian filigree that twirled up her arm, doing her best not to fall too deeply into the connection and alert Ascher to her presence—he wouldn’t react well to knowing she’d followed him.

  “Find.”

  The mark grew heavy, giving her a distinct tug that was slightly disturbing to feel under her skin, but she didn’t hesitate to follow. She dashed down the hall, her senses hyperaware, searching for any sign of life. She ducked in and out of rooms and passageways, easily avoiding people, the layout of the palace disturbingly familiar.

  They traveled down two levels, the guys a silent comfort at her back. When she rounded the last corner, Morgan skidded to a stop in front of a large, lifelike portrait of an exquisitely beautiful, dark-haired woman. “Mom?”

  She wore an elegant gown that clung to her slim form, everything about her bearing too impossibly regal and graceful to be remotely human. That’s when Morgan noticed the familiar torque around the woman’s neck.

  The guys surrounded her, some urging her to continue, a few of them glancing between her and the painting, but she heard none of it.

  Flashes of memories struck her hard, a stabbing pain threatening to crack her skull open, and she clutched her head as she fell to her knees.

  Images of her mother, wounded and covered with blood, filled her mind. Her mother was kneeling before her, placing the torque around her neck with a wobbly smile.

  Time skipped, and Morgan was being dragged down a hall by her mother, tripping over familiar bodies, people she knew, friends, their blood soaking into her clothes. Shouting erupted, and guards flooded the hallway, surrounding them. Fear tasted metallic in her mouth, and she clutched a small blade in her hand, standing next to her mother, preparing to defend her.

  “Run, baby. Get to the portal.” Her mother didn’t wait, but charged toward the guards, her battle yell echoing in Morgan’s head, even all these years.

  Morgan did as she was told only when a spell grabbed ahold of her, one she couldn’t break.

  And she ran.

  Like a coward, she ran.

  She skidded to a stop in front of the portal, waiting for her mother. Only she never returned. Agonizing minutes later, the spell finally broke apart, and Morgan sneaked back through the halls. She froze in shock when she found her mother lying in a pool of blood, a man standing over her, wiping the gore off his blade against his pants.

  A scream built up in her throat. The man turned toward her and smiled. Morgan didn’t hesitate. She threw her knife, pleased when it sank deep in his thigh. Without waiting for retaliation, she turned and leapt through the portal.

  “Morgan!”

  The world spun as arms swept her off the hard ground, and she blinked to see Kincade’s intense green eyes peering down at her. “He killed my mother.”

  It hurt to speak.

  Kincade’s expression was grim as he clutched her to him. “Ethan?”

  Morgan nodded dumbly, tucking herself closer to him, unable to get warm. Greif thickened her voice. “She died protecting me.”

  Atlas threw open a door, quickly clearing the room, then waved at them to enter. “I’ve heard stories about the night of the attack. It was a bloodbath. Alayna was an amazing fighter. Reports said she killed at least a dozen guards before they took her life.”

  Kincade sat, and she huddled on his lap, traumatized by the images still flashing in her head. “Seeing her portrait must have triggered your missing memories.”

  Atlas knelt in front of her, and Kincade’s hold tightened protectively. “I can tell you about your mother…I met her a few times…but now is not the time. You need to lock away your emotions and focus on the mission.”

  “Bloody hell, man. Give her a couple of minutes.” Draven glared at Atlas, murder darkening his eyes.

  “No.” Morgan pushed away from Kincade’s warmth, nausea churning in her gut. “He’s right. Now is not the time for me to lose my shit.”

  Kincade stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the rest of the room, and gently wiped her cheeks. Mortified by the tears, Morgan ducked her head and scrubbed her face, feeling like she’d been gutted.

  “Hey,” Kincade slipped his hand over the back of her neck, his grip strong and sure. “Take a deep breath. You’re not alone anymore.”

  She hated they saw her fall apart, and his comforting words only served to rock her already unstable emotions when she needed to be clearheaded.

  She shoved away from him, ignoring his promise, tucking it away to take apart and study later. “The longer we stay, the more dangerous it is for us.”

  He scowled down at her. “You can take a fucking minute to grieve.”

  But Morgan didn’t want to grieve.

  She didn’t want to think or feel, and she certainly didn’t want to drown in the helplessness swamping her. Only two things mattered. Getting everyone else out alive—and making her cousin pay. “Let’s go.”

  Rage burned in her chest, filling the gaping hole where her heart once beat. She clenched her fist, surprised to feel warmth pool down her hand, and the press of warm metal in her palm. She ran into the hall, vengeance sizzling through her veins, warming her muscles for battle.

  The passageway was dimly lit, dirt crunching under her boots
with every step, the air stale from long disuse. The gray stone walls showed surprisingly little wear after centuries of use, the building steeped in enough magic to keep it maintained. The dual combination of old and new made the tight confines all the creepier, and the walls began closing in on her, the urge to run and escape the claustrophobia became nearly overwhelming.

  She didn’t know if it was the sense of time growing short or a spell of some sort urging her to hurry, but she didn’t care. Dread began to build in her gut, tightening with every breath. They had to go now or it would be too late.

  Ten minutes later, Kincade dragged her to a stop in the lower levels of the castle, and she whirled on him. “What the hell?! They’re right ahead of us.”

  She shrugged out of his hold, but the other guys had her cornered, Ryder’s big body blocking the narrow, dungeon-like hall. “Don’t you find it suspicious that we haven’t run into any guards?”

  “It’s a trap.” Morgan shrugged, trying to slip around him, but the big bastard refused to let her pass. “We always knew it was a trap.”

  Ryder hunched down, until he was right in her face. “That doesn’t mean we have to make it easy for them…got me, little one?”

  She didn’t like having him so close, his nearness twisting things up inside her when she didn’t want to feel anything.

  She dropped her eyes, quickly stepping away, her chest tightening. She could scarcely stand still. She was beginning to unravel, her magic swelling with her emotions, and she feared what would happen when she finally let go. “We’re running out of time.”

  In more ways than one, she feared.

  A wet, hacking cough echoed down the hall, and she recognized the sound from late at night in the dorm room next to hers. “Neil!”

  Morgan barely resisted lashing out when Kincade grabbed her arm. She opened her mouth to ream him out when he pushed his way in front of her. “Stay behind me.”

  The last thing she expected was his capitulation.

  She was behaving rashly, every instinct warning her there was nothing but trouble was ahead, but she couldn’t seem to stop.

  Ryder and Draven took the lead, Kincade remained stubbornly at her side, prowling one step ahead of her, while Atlas took up the rear. The darkness of the tunnel began to lighten, and everyone slowed. She tightened her grip on her weapon, creeping forward along with everyone else.

  The first thing they saw beyond the tunnel seemed innocent enough.

  The circular room was at least twenty feet across, but the domed ceiling made it appear larger…and seemingly empty. The stones were a funky, rusty brown that for some reason sent a chill chasing over her skin. More alarming, scored into the floor in a perfect circle around an altar were the same markings carved into her back.

  On the altar rested a body beaten so bloody, it was hard to tell anything about the person except that it was male. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the figure. There was something startlingly familiar about the blood-streaked blond hair, something about the muscular shape of his arms and shoulders that sent her heart ricocheting against her ribs.

  “Ascher?” Morgan couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

  “Here!”

  Morgan spun and stared dumbly to see Neil and a number of other students waving their hands to gain their attention. Large holes pocketed the perimeter of the room, almost like a big worm had burrowed through the walls at random, leaving behind an intricate cave system. Thick bars covered the entrances, turning the tunnels into cages.

  Kincade cupped her face, waiting until she focused on him. “Go, I’ve got them.”

  The ice inside her snapped at his command, freeing her from the paralysis holding her in place ever since she spotted Ascher strapped to the table. Pleased by his understanding, Morgan didn’t bother to control her wild impulse, and bounced up on her toes to kiss him, her lips lingering for a few seconds despite the urgency of the situation. “Thank you.”

  Without waiting for him to respond, she slipped out of his hold and rushed toward the center of the room. The knife melted, the liquid metal running up her arm to form a now-familiar cuff, leaving both of her hands free to help Ascher. As soon as she crossed the circle, she knew she’d made a mistake.

  Magic sprang in the air, drenching the room like she ran into a sudden downpour.

  A single clap echoed around the room over and over, and she whirled to see Ethan applauding while dozens of armed guards flooded the room behind him. Magic was firmly wrapped around each soldier, draping Ethan’s minions in human form, so they could impersonate the guards and enter the castle undetected.

  With none of the cell doors open, the five of them didn’t stand a chance against so many.

  “Brava, cousin.” Ethan smirked at her, a malicious gleam in his eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t leave your people to die, but I really didn’t think you would be stupid enough to accompany your team.”

  Morgan’s heart sank until her chest ached.

  Because of her recklessness, she’d doomed them all.

  “Drop your weapons.” Ethan’s cockiness seeped away when no one moved, and he glared at her. “Now! You know I have no compunction about killing your little friends.”

  Her throat tightened painfully, and she reluctantly dropped the three weapons she had stashed on her body, studiously avoiding her two bracelets.

  She turned to her team. “Do it.”

  Draven cursed, but followed suit. Atlas and Ryder complied after a slight hesitation. Kincade narrowed his gaze on Ethan, clearly calculating the odds. His eyes slipped betrayingly to her. For two heartbeats, she feared he was going to defy her, she could feel his need to protect her swell through their bond, and she gave him a subtle shake of her head, silently begging him for more time.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw, his expression like she’d asked him to castrate himself. Almost in slow motion, his fingers loosened from around his weapons and the blades clanked to the floor.

  He trusted her…she only hoped she could live up to his high expectations.

  “Gather the whelps up and kennel them with the rest.” Ethan ignored everyone else and sauntered toward her with a smugness that made her want to break the fucker’s nose.

  The soldiers weren’t taking chances, wisely keeping their distance, using the tips of their swords to prod the guys toward the yawning opening of the cage door.

  Morgan flinched when the cell clanked shut behind them with an ominous thud. Kincade kept his back toward her, his head bowed, fighting against the need to throw himself at the bars—to do something—anything.

  They were the same emotions she was struggling to contain.

  With every passing second, she could feel the noose tightening around her neck.

  “What about Ascher?”

  Ethan gave a moue of distaste, and she knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth, so she beat him to it. “If you try to kill him, I’ll fight you every step of the way. If you think you’re going to get out of this unscathed, think again.”

  “I have you exactly where I want you. What could you possibly do to me?” He laughed at her threat like she was a bothersome gnat, but when he reached for her arm, the torque shimmered to life and flung him back ten feet to slam into the floor.

  When she went to follow and snap his scrawny neck, the symbols on the floor glowed a deep crimson, the light stretched to the ceiling and surrounded the altar like a curtain. As soon as she reached the barrier, it was like she slammed into a wall. She pressed her hands against the shield, running her fingers along the reddish sheen in search for even the smallest gap. Her palms prickled painfully the longer she persisted, as if a corrosive acid was gnawing at her flesh.

  “I can assure you, my dear, you will not escape me this time.”

  Now that the symbols on the floor were activated, she felt them trying to siphon off the primordial magic in her veins, the sensation like she’d rolled in a pile of itchweed. The nagging itch under her skin was unrelenting, and she kn
ew it was only a matter of time before it drove her insane. Morgan reluctantly dropped her hands and stepped away, lifting her chin defiantly. “Then it looks like we’re at a standstill.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her, his smarmy attitude pissing her off. “Not quite. I have dozens of hostages. If I start killing them, you’ll fold.”

  Morgan forced her jaw to unlock and act like bile wasn’t crowding the back of her throat. “You’re going to kill them anyway.”

  Lying was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. She was counting on Ethan’s callousness and selfishness to help her. He would never give up his life to save others, so he wouldn’t be able to conceive of others doing anything so stupid. She prayed he wouldn’t call her bluff.

  “If you can’t harvest my magic, you’ll still need them. They’re your backup plan. I’m older now, not a little child. I will fight you every step of the way. Without my help, you have less than a fifty percent chance of this ritual working, and you know it. I’ll probably die either way, but I’ll have the satisfaction of not giving you what you want.” She gave him a nasty smile. “Believe me, it will be worth it.”

  Morgan crossed her arms and lifted her brow at him, knowing she’d planted a seed of doubt when he turned to gaze at the students contemplatively.

  It was now or never, and she drove home her point. “Your choice.”

  By leaving the decision up to him, she knew she had him, almost like it had been his idea all along. He scowled at her before finally relenting. “Fine. Unleash your mutt, but leave the collar on him.” He lifted a little remote from around his neck and pressed the button. Ascher grunted in pain, and Morgan whirled to see Ascher arching off the altar, his body spasming as electricity coursed through his every nerve ending.