Ravenhold: Magic Forged: A Dark Academy Romance (Ravenhold Supernatural Reform Academy Book 2)

by LJ Swallow

  But at the moment I kissed her, Eloise became more than a power source. The oh-so-alluring girl I clashed with, who had the balls to take me on, has a little piece of my darkness inside her.

  Eloise created something I've never experienced: I care about somebody’s life. Everybody knows I'll kill to stop others taking Eloise's blood, but the reason why has changed. I don’t need to protect the power I crave. I need to protect her.

  If any person hurts Eloise or spills her blood, then they forfeit their right to life.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  ZEKE

  Ethan refuses to move, so shortly after dawn I make my way to the town alone, sticking to the wooded area bordering the road. I’m tempted to shift and enjoy the freedom, but I can’t draw attention.

  The town is a world away from Ravenhold, busy with people who’re happy with their lives, and blue skies instead of perpetual gloom. How do I feel now I’ve left Ravenhold? Able to breathe again, but confused how to deal with freedom after years locked up in the fucking place.

  I’m bewildered as I sit on a bench in the middle of an average human high street where others pass along the dirty pavements without looking at me. Those who catch my eye look away and when the reason why hits me, I laugh.

  They think I’m homeless. I guess I don’t look too hot in my scruffy clothes from Ravenhold.

  I smile at a guy who catches my weird eyes, and his widen before he looks away. Blowing air into my cheeks, I stare down at my boots. What the fuck do we do next?

  I’ve my head in my hands, about to give up and return to Ethan, when something catches my attention—a faint shifter scent. I jerk my head up and straighten, but there’re half a dozen people within a few metres either way along the street.

  A short elderly woman who’s passing looks at me oddly as I mumble beneath my breath before lifting my head to inhale. Yeah, I’m not only homeless but I appear to have mental health issues. Like many who’ve passed, she stares in horror at my tattoo-like stripes.

  I wish Ethan wasn’t so bloody-minded and had come with me—what if the shifter attacks me? Or if Confederacy are looking for us?

  I’ve no choice but to try and locate the shifter.

  Not all members of my race are big, but the majority are. That’s a good start to my hunt. I weave around people as I follow the shifter scent until I spot a tall, bulky guy walking beside a slender girl whose hair is squashed beneath a black beanie despite the warmth. She has a small, black rucksack slung over one shoulder; I take a few steps closer and sense a witch aura.

  Shit. I pause. She might be connected to Ivan’s or Eloise’s family.

  I wrinkle my nose as I consider this. Unlikely; I know her family aren’t shifter lovers. Few witches are. I wonder if she’s a shifter lover?

  They round a corner and continue along a street away from shops as the buildings we pass become homes with cars parked along the kerbs.

  The tall guy halts and tips his head to one side. I pause and wait as he turns to face me. Shifter—tall and bulky with an aura I recognise. Brown curls hang into his face a little like Ethan’s, but he’s younger and less dangerous. Our gazes lock as each of us tries to figure the other out but we both know one thing—we recognise our own. He reaches out and places a hand on the girl’s arm to stop her, before whispering in her ear.

  The girl spins around and narrows her eyes as she approaches me. “If you’re about to rob us, I suggest you don’t.” She clutches the small rucksack strap.

  I look down at her and laugh, and her scowl grows. “Why would I mess with a shifter and witch?”

  Mouth parting, she steps back, before she’s drawn to the marks on my arms. The guy joins her. “Where did you come from?” he asks.

  Now he’s closer, I sense bear, but also that he’s not old enough to shift yet. Not a mid either, or he’d have ursine features and patches of hair on his skin.

  “That’s a secret,” I say quietly.

  “Who are you?” asks the witch sharply. “Name.”

  “Jason.”

  “Real name,” she snaps back.

  “Izzy, let’s not have this conversation here,” says the shifter softly. “This guy won’t attack us, because I sense he wants our help.”

  One thing I fucking hate is asking for help, so I give a tight smile and say nothing.

  “Where should we go, then, Saul?” she asks.

  “‘Jason’ looks like he needs a beer.” The shifter grins. “Right?”

  My shoulders relax. “You have no idea, mate. I’d kill for a beer.”

  Izzy snorts. “I bloody hope not.”

  She turns to head back towards the town, and as I make to follow, the shifter steps in front of me. His dark eyes hold a warning. “You tell us why a Tigris cult member is walking Welsh streets, or we’ll take you to somebody who can pull the information from you.”

  “Wales?” I ask. “Is that where I am?”

  “You don’t deny your Tigris connection?” He points at my arms. “Everybody from that community is hidden or imprisoned.”

  I cock my head. “I’m not.”

  I drain the pint Saul buys me in a few short gulps while Izzy looks at me in disdain. They buy me a meal too and as I eat, I consider why I’m trusting strangers. I figure I can ask for help and move on—the pair don’t seem dumb enough to cause a scene in public.

  “Empty your pockets,” says Saul as I place my fork down. The pie and chips taste like a gourmet meal after the flavourless crap from Ravenhold, and I’m that damn hungry, I eat like I’ve not fed for a week.

  “Easy done,” I stand and pat my pockets to show there’s nothing in them before pulling out the folded paper Dorian gave me.

  Izzy picks it up and reads. “What’s this? A spell?”

  “I don’t know. A friend gave me this and I forgot I had it,” I lie.

  Saul takes the paper. “Sounds threatening.”

  “Like I said, not my words.” I return to eating.

  “Explain what you’re doing here,” says Saul. “Are you alone? We haven’t seen you around, and I doubt you're connected to the Thornbrook family.”

  “You said I’m Tigris,” I say cautiously. “I left them. I’m in exile.”

  “Alone?”

  “There’s no other Tigris member with me.” Half a truth. I rest back and luxuriate in the feeling of a full stomach. “Why are you here?”

  They look at each other. “We’re on holiday.”

  I splutter a laugh. “Sure.”

  “Where are you headed?” asks Izzy, thin-lipped. “Why didn’t you prepare yourself better if you’re running from the Tigris? You’ve no bag—nothing.”

  “Sudden decision.”

  Saul chews his lips as he looks at my striped arms; as a shifter, he knows how dangerous I am, but does Izzy?

  “There’s a shifter community in the next village. They might take you in. I can call ahead and ask?” says Saul.

  I blink. “You’d help me?”

  “Shifters need to band together in the current world. You look lost and I’ve not come across you in our investigations.” Saul tips his chin. “You could help them protect them if you have full Tigris abilities.”

  Investigations? “I don’t,” I lie. “I don’t want to meet others, but I’d appreciate other help. Any chance you could lend me some cash?”

  “Lend you?” Izzy laughs at me. “We’ll never see you again. Me and Saul are moving on tomorrow.”

  “Are you linked to Confederacy or Dominion?” I ask the pair and they look at me impassively.

  “Neither,” says Saul. “And if you were part of the Tigris cult, you’re not allied to anybody but your own people.”

  “We’re not a cult,” I say. Why am I defending the community that tortured me, then literally threw me to the wolves when I didn’t toe the line and became a threat?

  “The Tigris are shifter Blackwoods,” says Saul with a smirk.

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  �
��Blackwood witches think they’re above the rest of the supernatural world, and so do your Tigris leaders. Now you’re out of the cult, you’ll need to choose a side,” he explains.

  “The fuck I will,” I snap back. “I almost went with Confederacy, but—" I pause and notice their intent looks. “I’m not explaining my full story, as I’m sure you won’t tell me why a shifter and witch are on ‘holiday’ in a town near the Trinity witch’s family.”

  Izzy’s eyes widen. “If you’ve left the isolated Tigris world, how would you know where the Trinity witch lives?”

  Shit. Nice one, Zeke. “Everybody in our society knows about the Trinity witch.”

  “Were you sent for her?” asks Saul in quiet shock.

  I splutter. “No. How can I take her on? Besides, I don’t know what she looks like. Do you?”

  I’m suspicious—why look for Eloise and who the hell are they? Not strong enough to take on powerful witches alone. “I told you, she’s still at Ravenhold, Saul,” says Izzy then looks at me. “Or is she?”

  Perspiration breaks out across my back. “How would I know? I only arrived here last night. I’m passing through.”

  “You’re definitely hiding something,” says Izzy.

  “As are you. You don’t work alone.”

  “And you don’t travel alone.” Izzy cocks her head. “Do you?”

  We lapse into silence and I try to figure out why these kids are here. There’s no Nightworld academy nearby and they’re too young to be working on their own. They’ve no real idea who I am and I’m unsure I’d go with them, however friendly they appear to be.

  “We have a friend we work with. He’d like to meet you,” announces Saul.

  “Uh. I don’t think so,” says Izzy.

  “Alaric needs to know about ‘Jason’.”

  “Who’s Alaric?” I ask.

  “Then you genuinely don’t know anything about the Thornbrooks,” says Saul and he pulls on his bottom lip.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you and I don’t want to meet your friend.”

  Izzy shakes her head. “I’ll mention we met the Tigris guy when I check in with him tonight. But if Alaric wants us to find you, he will.”

  I fight laughing. Nobody will find me once I get the hell out of here with Ethan. Surely Ethan knows somewhere we can go—someone to trust.

  Saul pulls a wallet from his pocket and places four £10 pound notes on the table. “Use that wisely. We’re not an enemy unless you’re a threat to us.”

  Izzy picks up Dorian’s message and mouths the words. “Ha!” She smirks and pulls a pen from her pocket. “Tell me who gave you this and I’ll tell you exactly what these words mean.”

  “I can’t,” I say.

  “Oh, well.” Izzy hands the paper back. “I hope you’re as good at puzzles as I am.”

  Saul chuckles. “She is. Izzy thinks she’s a secret agent.”

  Izzy pokes her tongue out at him then pulls out her phone, where she makes a note of something. I grit my teeth. If this witch knows, I need to know too.

  “Dorian Blackwood gave me the note.”

  The pair look as if I slapped them and Izzy slams down the pen. “How could he? Who the fuck are you?”

  I sigh. “If you watch and listen to what happens in the supernatural world, you’ll find out soon.”

  “Is he with you?” asks Izzy in hushed tones. “Fuck. Saul, we need to leave.”

  “No. He isn’t. Tell me what the words mean, and I’ll walk away. I’m not interested in you or whatever the fuck you’re doing. You won’t see me again.”

  She glances at Saul who nods. Izzy writes down the words and turns the paper towards me.

  0419 027013

  Oh for when I know to sever no one free.

  Smartarse bastard, Dorian.

  “Call the number,” she says and slides her phone towards me. I hesitate. “If you don’t, I will.”

  Izzy programmed the number into her phone. Great. I hit the dial button and a generic message created by the phone company answers. “Message bank.”

  They huff. “What do we do, Saul?”

  “You have the number. We’ll go back to Alaric; he might have more info on who this guy is.” Saul rests his large forearms on the table and leans across. “And how he knows Dorian Blackwood.”

  “If I do, following me wouldn’t be a great idea, would it?”

  “Is that a threat?” Izzy snaps.

  “No. A truth. Nobody gets in Dorian’s way and lives.” I chew my lip. “Ever thought I might be running from him too?”

  Saul leans back in his chair and I watch as he weighs me up again.

  “Save yourselves some pain and pretend you never met me. I’m not a great guy to have connections to.” Taking the money from the table, I stand. “An exiled Tigris pursued by his ‘cult’, and by Dorian? You’d best back away.”

  Disappointment flickers across Izzy’s face and she taps the pen on the table. At least one of them is listening to the danger.

  But Saul’s expression doesn’t match. Is he curious or suspicious? Hopefully sensible too, because unless he has friends as potent as hybrids and Blackwoods, he’ll face more than he bargained for.

  Chapter Thirty

  ELOISE

  I open my eyes and look at the familiar ceiling above me. The paint doesn’t flake and a fancy silver candelabra hovers directly above the bed. The sheets smell like a familiar laundry softener that mimics orchids and roses.

  They smell of home.

  Across the room, my dresser contains the same items as it has for years. A hairbrush and ties, a photo of the dog who died, and a small silver bracelet gifted to me by Cooper, the guy I dated who showed me not everybody is like Ivan.

  I’m relieved I’m alone and Ivan hasn’t approached me again.

  After I shower, I dress in jeans and a loose blue shirt, and tie my hair from my face. The strain of the last few weeks shows in my eyes and I’ve lost weight since I previously looked in this mirror.

  The last time I was in this room, my family held me overnight before handing me to the authorities. What’s changed?

  The family estate changed little over the years and feels as inescapable as ever. I’m still struggling to catch up with events yesterday and the sudden switch from Ravenhold to my luxurious home is jarring. When I was younger, the house had staff to cater to all our needs, but this reduced to cleaning staff and a visiting gardener as money became short. My family like to pretend they’re as wealthy as the witches we descended from, but our mismanaged fortune dried up years ago.

  Once downstairs, I make my way towards the kitchen and as I walk in, my mother stops me.

  “We’re eating in the dining room this morning.”

  I frown at her. My mother wears a knee-length black dress that borders on formal; something she’d wear when she has her ‘soirees’. “We never use the dining room for breakfast.”

  “Yes, but we have guests.”

  I’m ushered into the large room that’s dominated by a long oak table surrounded by people seated in matching chairs. My father is here this morning and he sits beside Nikolai Blackwood, who looks at home, as if he’s visited many times. He laughs as he talks to my father, the pair firm friends, although Nikolai is closer to my age than his.

  Mother takes her seat beside them and smiles.

  Why the hell are they dressed up as if they’re going to a formal dinner?

  “Ah! Eloise!” Nikolai stands and dabs his lips with a white napkin. “Come. Sit with me.”

  I eye him cautiously as he beckons with his fingers, before approaching. Nikolai takes my hand and kisses the back like the gentleman I’m sure he isn’t.

  “Now, now. Hands off my fiancée,” says Ivan from the seat beside him.

  Are we back to that? I dart a look at my parents. “I’m not marrying Ivan.”

  “But you are accompanying me this afternoon,” he says and pats the seat beside him.

  “Where?” I ask sharply.
r />   “The Blackwood estate.” My mother speaks as if we’re honoured guests of the Dominion leaders, not visiting the maverick witch family who threaten our world’s stability.

  “No, thanks,” I say and sit.

  Nikolai chuckles. “Really, Eloise, you’re both so ungrateful.”

  “Both?”

  He waves a hand at the doorway and when I look around, my breath catches. Dorian stands with his arms crossed. Compared to other guests, he’s vastly underdressed in black jeans and matching shirt he wore when we escaped last night. He watches proceedings with his keen blue eyes, in the way he would the dining hall at Ravenhold—his expression is impassive but superior.

  Apart from here, Dorian isn’t in charge, nor does he have allies.

  “Why are you still here?” I blurt.

  He shrugs. “I thought I’d spend the night in a comfortable bed before going on my way.”

  Nikolai watches with his brow pinched as Dorian crosses to sit at the table. He inspects the family’s antique silver platters set in front of us. “Do you have any eggs?” Nobody speaks and he looks up. “I was invited to breakfast?”

  I glance at my father, whose knuckles whiten around his fork. This guy killed his brother, and he swore revenge. Now he’s in our house behaving like a guest.

  Dorian shrugs and helps himself to a slice of toast from the silver rack, leans back, and places his boots on the chair beside him. My mother’s cheeks redden.

  “Did you make your decision yet, Dorian?” asks Nikolai in his smooth tones.

  “Are you going to the Blackwood estate today, Eloise?” Dorian speaks with a mouthful of toast as he waves the slice at me.

  “No,” I say.

  “Oh?” He bites again. “Are you coming with me?”

  “No.”

  Ivan chuckles. “Eloise, we cannot refuse an invitation from the Blackwoods.”

  “Watch me,” I mutter. “And after the disgusting things you did to my friend, I’m not going anywhere with you, either.”