Savage Magic

by Ciara Graves

  Outside chaos reigned. Shouts and screams, but they sounded far away as I stepped through the doorway and peered inside. Sunlight dappled the room, streaming in through the upper windows. The curtains remained open. I did a quick scan of the room and sighed to see Seneca’s head of red hair as she sat perched in Rudarius’s throne.

  “You’re alive,” I whispered, relieved to see her there. “Rudarius?”

  “He’s around,” she replied, but her voice sounded off.

  I squinted, struggling to see her better, but where she sat was all in shadow, too dark for even my eyes to penetrate.

  “He’s alive? Where?” I walked toward her when my boot slipped on something wet. A dark substance covered the floor. I bent and dipped my fingers in it. Blood. I paused as my eyes took in the amount of gore that stretched from one end of the room all the way to where Seneca sat. Dodging the sunlight, I moved further in, coming across an arm first. Then a leg. A few more bits and pieces were scattered around the throne room. “What did you do?”

  “What? I told you he was around,” she replied with a dark laugh. “Not a lie.”

  I cleared my throat, not sure what to say to that. I moved around another beam of sunlight, nearing the throne. Seneca sat in it, right leg hanging over the arm as she lounged on a chair that once held the monstrous Rudarius.

  Her left hand was up over her head, and there was something clutched in her grasp.

  Something that looked exactly like Rudarius’s head.

  “You killed him.”

  She laughed again as she straightened in the chair and tossed the severed head. It rolled then landed at my feet. His eyes were frozen open in terror, and his fangs had been viciously ripped from his mouth. She stood slowly, and the amount of blood covering her normally would’ve had me rushing forward to check her for wounds.

  But the look in her eyes, solid black eyes, stopped me. A wicked grin curled her lips, and the shadows moved with her as she paced along the platform. When she turned, I spotted her right hand and cursed. There wasn’t just one set of rings on her fingers. Rudarius’s rings. She wore them, too. She stretched her arms over her head then rolled her shoulders, letting out a long, heavy sigh.

  “Seneca, Rudarius is dead, and the totem he created has fallen. You need to come with me.”

  She jerked to a stop, not looking at me, and whispered, “Why would I do that?”

  “Seneca, please.” I swallowed hard, that damned vision of Briar’s coming back to haunt me as she turned and stared me down. “We need to make sure the rift closed.”

  “It hasn’t.”

  “What? How do you know?’

  “Why would I close it? There is much work to be done. So much work.”

  “What are you talking about?” I demanded. “Seneca, answer me.”

  She moved faster than I thought possible and pressed her fingers to my lips as she shushed me. “Now, now. You don’t want to make me think you’re going to stop me, do you? Because that’s what it sounds like you’re about to say and that is not what I want to hear.”

  I took hold of her right hand but flinched when the rings shocked me and burned my fingers. She laughed and backed away.

  “I’ll take over his army. Hell, I might not even need them. I’ll return to Otherworld and claim the fae lands and finish what Rudarius could not. He was so weak, so feeble-minded. The races need a ruler, yes, but not him.” She sauntered around his head, crouching near it to smooth the hair gently from his forehead. “Pathetic.” She dropped two small items by his head, and as she danced away, I spotted the fangs she’d ripped from his mouth.

  “Seneca, this isn’t you,” I tried again. “Come back to me. Think about what you’re saying.”

  “Oh, I am. I’ve thought about it long and hard.” She stopped her spinning and spread her arms wide. “Look around you, Draven, could you ever imagine having such a fortress at your disposal? An army ready and waiting for your command?”

  “My command?”

  “Yes. You and me together, we could rule this pathetic excuse for a world. Take back what is rightfully ours.” She walked closer as she spoke. “Think about it. He stole your coven from you and all your lands. The fae kicked my entire race out of Otherworld. Out of any realm they could exist in. This is our chance. It’s our time.” She held out her hand for mine. “Join me. We will be unstoppable. We can be the ones everyone fears.”

  I longed to see a flash of green in those bottomless pits of anger and darkness. To know Seneca, my Seneca, was in there somewhere. That she was striving to get out.

  But there was only the magic rushing through her. It had taken control, and she was lost.

  I failed her. Failed to save her. I realized that now I would have no choice, but to stop her by killing her. My heart sank, and my stomach rebelled at the notion, but I could mourn later. I could fall apart and find my own way to die once this was over.

  But first I had to stop her.

  “No.”

  Her smile faltered. “No? You refuse my offer?”

  “I won’t stand by while you turn into the monster he created,” I muttered, glaring at Rudarius’s head. “This is not you. Not even close. Come back to me, please.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she hissed as she backed away.

  “Seneca, take off the damned rings. The fight is over. We can live in peace now. We can be happy.”

  “For centuries we were forced to watch as our powers were drained, as our people died out and now when I can have vengeance, you dare stand in my way?”

  We? Was Seneca not the one talking? “They do not have the right to steal your life away.”

  “They are my people. This is their time for revenge.”

  “You have it. Rudarius wiped out the fae kingdoms and killed hundreds, thousands of fae. But he’s dead now. It’s over. There is no more need to fight.”

  She laughed harshly. “Lies. There is always a reason for war.”

  “Seneca—”

  A sword formed in her hand and she attacked.

  I jumped to the right as the blade slashed down, sparking against the stone floor. I spun around and caught her hands in mine, cursing when those infernal rings burned my palms. Still, I held tight.

  “Don’t make me kill you,” I pleaded.

  She hissed viciously and headbutted me. I scrambled for a weapon, but there were none here, and I’d lost my dagger when the totem exploded. It was my bare fists against Seneca and her damned shadows. I waited for her to attack me with them, but she only used her sword. I mistimed her swing and caught the blade to my upper right arm. It sliced through, drawing fresh blood.

  I staggered away, holding my hand to the wound. I backed into a bar of sunlight and snarled as I whipped around and out of it. Burnt flesh odor filling my nose, I searched for Seneca through the haze filling the room.

  It would’ve been the perfect time for her to attack me, but she stood as if frozen, eyes wide.

  And when I shifted to see her better, I saw a flicker of green. It was only there for the span of a breath, but it was there all the same.

  “Seneca,” I shouted.

  Her head snapped in my direction, and the green was gone.

  But I saw it. I know I did. I just had to get to her somehow.

  Seneca screamed as she came after me, slashing her blade through the air.

  I ducked and weaved, kicking her solidly in the back, sending her staggering into the candleholders. She went down with them, and when she came at me again, her fist met my face with the hilt of her sword, driving me across the floor. I made a grab for her hand, but she switched and hit my torso, breaking several ribs with that one strike.

  I sank to my knees as she suddenly stumbled away, shaking her head.

  I spat blood from my mouth and held my side as I tried to straighten.

  She cursed under her breath, seeming to argue with herself as she turned her back to me.

  I took the brief pause in the fight to search my coat and boots, pra
ying for a knife, anything. Tucked in my left boot was a small dagger, hardly enough to stand against her sword, but it’d have to do. I grabbed it and tucked it out of sight.

  She shrieked, and her one sword separated into two.

  Instinct screamed at me to defend myself when she lunged for me again, to block all her hits, to move, but instead, I let her hit me, again and again. I stopped her from killing me, but I took the beating.

  She abandoned her swords and grabbed me up by my shirt. My eyes were swollen almost shut from her punches, not healing fast enough to keep up with her attack.

  As I watched, those black depths lessened to reveal the green hidden within.

  Her lips parted, and her grip loosened, but then the black flooded right back and she tossed me across the room like I was little more than a rag doll.

  Sunlight pierced my skin, and I couldn’t hold back my shout of pain. I crawled to get away from those harmful rays. Seneca paced through them with ease, her hands curling at her sides, her jaw clenched.

  She jerked to a stop and tilted her head to the side. The green seems to have appeared more frequently, but as soon as I said her name, she was on me, punching me repeatedly with that ringed hand. She could’ve killed me by now, I told myself in between the punches that left me seeing spots. But she hadn’t. Seneca was in there. I just had to get her to come out.

  My body went limp in her hold.

  Her fist paused in its next attack. Her whole body shook. She gasped as if coming up for air.

  “Draven,” she breathed, voice strained. She tried to let me go, but her body fought against her. “Please,” she begged, tears burning in her eyes already darkening again. “Kill me.”

  “No,” I snapped, covering her blood-drenched hands with mine. “You can fight this. You can.”

  “I can’t.” She lowered her head and then she grabbed the dagger I’d hidden—still in my hand—and pressed against her chest. “Do it. Kill me.”

  “I’m not killing you.” I tried to remove my hand, but she was too strong.

  “I can’t stop it,” she whispered, desperation etched into every line on her face as her eyes darkened then lightened again. “Do it. Kill me. Kill me!”

  I bellowed in response as I held the dagger to her chest. This couldn’t be the only way to end the war. I refused to believe it. She cupped my cheek and tried to soothe me as I made ready to kill the only woman I ever loved in this world.

  “Do it, Draven, I can’t hold it back any longer. Kill me.”

  I shook my head, muttering under my breath the whole time.

  I caught sight of her ringed hand holding fast to my shirt. The rings. There was only a chance this would work, but a chance was better than stabbing her in the heart and living with her blood on my hands for the rest of my many years.

  “Never,” I replied.

  Seneca’s eyes turned all black once more.

  She opened her mouth to scream, but I pulled on whatever strength was left within me and pinned her to the floor. I slammed her right hand into the stones and even as her shadows threatened to tear me to pieces, as they wrapped around my limbs, seeped into my very being, I brought the dagger down and severed her hand from her body.

  A multitude of screams erupted as the shadows burst all around us, throwing us apart. I landed in a heap near the doors, smacking my head on the stones. Utter silence followed. I sat up, numb to my wounds as I crawled through the throne room.

  “Seneca,” I tried to say, but it came out as a croak. “Seneca.”

  There was no reply.

  I grunted as I straightened, searching in vain for her. Had the power consumed her? Fear that it had pushed me. I fell twice then finally spotted her. Seneca’s body was splayed against the stone steps, her right arm bloody, missing a hand. It lay farther off, the rings on it sparking and cracking as the power left them for good. I ignored them and fell to her side.

  “Seneca, come on, love,” I muttered, hoisting her into my lap. “Breathe. You have to breathe.”

  Blood oozed from the stump at her right arm, but there was no heartbeat, no intake of breath. Shaking my head in disbelief, I placed her flat on the floor and started compressions against her chest. When those failed, I bashed my fist into her sternum, yelling her name.

  She shot upright and sucked in a breath, then collapsed again. But she was alive. I kissed her forehead in relief, red tears falling from my eyes. She was alive. She wasn’t awake, but she was breathing, and her heart beat loudly in her chest.

  I tore my shirt and wrapped the wound I’d given her. Somehow, I picked her up and carried her from the throne room and through the deserted fortress of Rudarius. The rift was hopefully closed now. When I neared the entrance, there were no sounds of battle. I couldn’t step out into the sunlight, but I remained in the shadow of the doorway, my eyes searching.

  As if they knew I was coming, storm clouds blew in from the south and blocked out the harsh rays of the sun. I stepped out of the fortress as rain once again fell from the sky, washing the blood from my face. I shifted Seneca in my arms so her face was against my shoulder, clutching her as close as I could. I made it a few yards when my legs gave out, and I sank to my knees in the mud.

  “Draven!”

  I glanced up to see Nathaniel standing before me, Shane at his side. Beyond him, Owen, Macron, and Marlie sprinted toward us. Words wouldn’t form, and all I could do was hold Seneca to me as I shielded her from the rain.

  “Dead,” I whispered at some point as Macron tried to pry her from my arms.

  “Seneca?” he asked alarmed.

  “No, Rudarius. He’s dead.”

  Macron nodded then glanced to Seneca’s right arm. “Draven? The rings? Draven?”

  My mouth opened, but no sound came out.

  I let them take Seneca from my arms then fell backward. Owen, of all people, picked me up and gently carried me over his shoulder.

  I smiled at how pissed off this was probably making him, but then my eyes closed, and I let myself slip into unconsciousness.

  Chapter 12

  Draven

  A curse fell from my lips as soon as my eyes opened. The curtains were pulled over the window of a room I knew all too well. My head throbbed, and every inch of my body was in pain. This room, it had been mine during the time I stayed in Rudarius’s fortress. Why was I back here? Had I dreamt it all?

  “Good, you’re finally awake,” a deep, growling voice came from the far corner of the room.

  “Not a dream,” I muttered to myself as Owen marched over. “You’re here.”

  “I’m here. Macron ordered me to keep an eye on you until you woke up. Now you’re awake, and I’m going.” He turned for the door, but I called his name. “What do you want, vampire?”

  “Seneca. Where is she?”

  His shoulders hunched, but he turned back and rubbed his forehead hard. “Alive.”

  “Where is she?”

  “You can’t see her yet. She hasn’t awakened yet. Macron’s been with her for the last four days.”

  “Days?”

  He nodded, his face solemn. “You had the shit beat out of you and whatever you did to her to sever the power messed her up pretty bad. Internally, mentally, her soul. All Macron said…” He swallowed hard and didn’t finish.

  “Tell me,” I demanded, making to stand, but he shoved me back. “Tell me, Owen.”

  “Her soul was shredded,” he finally snapped. “It wasn’t you, though. Macron wanted you to know that. I mean what you did caused some of the damage, but the rest, it wasn’t you. The power from the rings, when she combined it with Rudarius’s, twisted her around. She fought it and harmed herself in the process.”

  This time I shoved against him as hard as I could and stood. “I want to see her.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I’m not staying in here while she’s fighting for her life,” I snarled. “You can either tell me where she is or move out of the way.” I looked wildly around the stone room.
“And why the hell are we in this cursed fortress?”

  “It remained after the rift closed. Macron and the other mages have been working to cleanse it of Rudarius’s foul stench.” He growled as he said it. “And it’s the only place large enough to house those who survived the battle. Many were wounded and rebuilding, recovering. It’s going to take time and planning.”

  It made sense, but being here made my skin crawl all the same. “Where is Seneca?”

  “You are in no condition to go to her now.”

  I tried to take a step around him, but my knees shook, and I would’ve fallen on my face if Owen hadn’t caught me and set me forcefully back down.

  “You won’t keep me from her,” I warned. “If this is some macho bullshit you’re trying to pull, it won’t work, you hear me? I love her, and I will not be kept from her. Never again.”

  He stormed away from me, shoulders tense. “I won’t fight you for Seneca,” he said as he turned back to face me. “She was right about me. About what I tried to do.”

  I said nothing, not sure where he was going with this.

  “I tried to fix her because I saw something wrong with her. But you… you see who she truly is. I failed her in that regard. As much as I care for her, I can never be what she needs me to be. All I ask is you look out for her. Love her, Draven, and see that she finally finds a way to be happy.”

  I stood and this time, found the strength to take the few steps between us. I held out my hand for his, and he took it, to my surprise. “I will, but I have to see her, Owen. Please. Take me to her.”

  His grip tightened on mine as he hung his head. “It’s going to be hard for you.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Come on, then. Fair warning, if Macron realizes you’re up and moving around already, he’s going to have both our hides.”