Maura flicked her cigarette butt to the ground, hoping her disinterest would sway the girl to return to her gardening.
The girl laughed, flinging her curls over her shoulder. “I’m so silly. You don’t even know who I’m talking about.” She sighed. “What’s your name? I’m Jackie.”
Maura trained her focus on the wide shrubbery that separated them from the human world. The green leaves, same pinecone-shaped bushes, and unimpressive height were more interesting than the young girl. At least, that’s what Maura aimed to convey. She didn’t want the girl here, asking questions, trying to be polite, when all she wanted was to be alone. But, Maura was supposed to behave, play nice. The words that would fly from her mouth when dealing with her colleagues, lodged in the pit of her throat now.
“What kind of powers do you have?” Jackie asked.
Maura pointed to the scattered flowers behind them. “Plant those before a squirrel runs off with them.”
“You’re not much of a talker, huh?”
Maura eyed the dying flowers. “You’re not much of a gardener.”
Jackie’s face reddened, her eyebrows scrunched together. She turned on her heels, shoulders hunched, head down, and shuffled to the school entrance.
“That wasn't very nice of you,” a deep voice said from behind.
She turned to the man.
He sat on a stone bench, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. His auburn hair brightened with the sun and fell over his almond-shaped gray eyes. Curls threatened to invade his hair with the rising humidity. His small smile produced two dimples on his cheeks and revealed pearly white teeth. The bone structure of his face – square jaw and prominent cheeks – said he'd passed through puberty. The array of tattoos on each of his arms spoke of his story.
Maura ran her gaze down his frame. Muscles tested the stretch of his black-collared shirt, his legs long, shoulders broad. Athletic. Strong.
“I could’ve done worse,” Maura said.
“I don’t mean what you did to Jackie.”
She glared and took a long puff. “What are you talking about?”
He rose, confirming his tall height. “Back at the airport.”
“You have the wrong person.” Maura took another drag and blew smoke in his direction.
The man parted the smoke with a spell. “I do.” He stepped forward into a stream of sunlight. His irises blazed, a silver rim circling the gray.
Mystic.
“I was looking for Beth Hollings. Not Amy Lindbergh.”
Her breath caught. What else did he know? “You're following me.”
“Is that a question or an affirmation.” Another step forward.
Maura matched it with a slight step back, her hip catching the railing of the gazebo.
He pointed to her torso. “It's a Phoenix. You've scarred it well. Elixirs in Erewhon didn't know what they were looking at.”
“How do you know?” Maura forced her voice above a whisper.
Blindsided by the man, her thoughts jumbled into an incoherent mess. Where to begin, what to say, what to do, fled along with her instincts. She stood, frozen. Did he work for Adrian? She drew in a long breath and held it to simmer her nerves.
“I don't work for Adrian. In fact, it's quite the opposite.” The man rounded the gazebo and walked up the stairs carefully as if sensing her distrust and fear. He reached into his breast pocket, Maura conjuring an Annihilation spell in her hand behind her back. The man held out a picture. With hesitation, Maura reached for it and stepped away.
“How'd you get this?” Her voice stammered as she gazed at the old photograph of her family. Mother and Father stood side-by-side, Father’s arms around Mother’s waist. Sitting on a sofa were Maura, her twin sister Hannah, younger sister Kerli, and older twin brothers Eric and Bryce.
“I found it in an invisible pocket of yours,” he said.
She slipped the palm-sized picture into her back pocket. “Who are you?”
He smiled and held out a hand. “Liam Winston.”
Maura glared at his hand and then into his eyes. “Winston. You're–”
“Not here,” he interrupted. “I thought we could talk over drinks. Tonight at eleven.”
“Can't. Curfew.” She finished the cigarette and ground it deep into the gazebo floor.
Liam smirked and looked down at his feet before making eye contact. “You don't intend to stay.”
Maura pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes.
“I’m one of the guards you planned to outrun tonight.” The shadow of a smile danced across his lips as he walked away. “I'll pick you up at eleven.”
Chapter Eight: Kyle Hawthorne
Maura sat in Jessica’s office after Max left. Jessica had said she wanted to discuss certain matters in private. Maura couldn't think of anything important. She didn't care what Jessica wanted to converse about. She couldn't think about anything other than Liam Winston. The GateKeeper. The asshole who blackmailed her into drinks.
Jessica tossed a file onto her desk, blowing back Maura’s hair and snapping her into focus.
“Max likes to tell her refugees as little as possible,” Jessica said. “She believes the less they know, the better.” She pushed the chart across the desk.
Hesitant, Maura glided her fingers over the papers.
“Adrian Wilhelm,” Jessica said.
A man – tall with short black hair – stood in a gray pin-striped suit on a street corner in the photo. His black leather shoes, pressed suit, and gold Rolex watch screamed of his wealth. But his all too perfect posture, straight nose, chiseled cheeks, and slicked, flawless hair screamed something else.
Forty years did little to soften the blow of seeing his face. The same face that sneered at her from across the yard, her mother’s blood painting his smile. The same face that cursed her into a life of running. The face that determined whether she’d live to see his downfall, or die looking into the eyes of the monster that had stolen everything from her.
Adrian Wilhelm, the Vampire the Mystics feared, the God that put money in crooked agents’ pockets was her past, present, and future. He’s my end.
Maura dug a nail into his faint, sunken cheeks and scratched the line of his pursed lips. His broad shoulders flowed into an athletic physique. Vacant eyes and emotionless expression spoke of his lack of compassion.
He screamed danger.
“He’s the reason you’re here,” Jessica said.
Maura slid the photo away.
“He’s the reason several of our students are here.” She flipped a page, which outlined police reports. Officials blamed fires for killing countless Mystic families.
Maura covered the pictures of charred support beams and piles of rubble. She’d seen them too many times – had pulled herself from the remains of her own home.
“He’s searching for you and the others he failed to kill,” Jessica said.
“Why is he killing us?” Maura knew the answer. She'd spent twenty years following his case, nearly three hundred years being hunted by him.
“He’s looking for someone.”
He's looking for me. He craved the power that had been cursed to her soul forty years ago. Once obtained, Abysm would come to Erewhon. Maura couldn’t allow that to happen.
“And what better way to find the needle in a haystack than to burn all the hay?” Jessica said. “You’ll study his kind in your classes.”
“Awesome,” Maura cracked, rising and moving toward the exit. The reflection of Jessica’s painting on the door caught her eye. “What's with the painting?”
Jessica spun in her green leather chair to look up. Spilled blood, angered faces, and mass casualties tainted a purple horizon within a gold frame.
“Vessels, Vampires, and Sirens,” she rattled off the Abysmals in the painting. “It was a gift from The Keep. A Vessel they had executed painted this, depicting his experience during the Battle of the Oceans.”
“Blue Ruin,” Maura muttered.
/> “Excuse me?”
“Why would they give you such a fucked up painting to put in your office?”
Jessica’s smile fell along with her shoulders. “It's to remind us that evil is still out there. We will always be one step away from war.”
Maura clenched the door knob. “That's one way to scare the shit out of your students.”
Jessica smirked and leaned back in her chair. “Have a good day, Vera.”
Maura closed the office door and walked to defense class in need of a distraction. Jessica. Liam. Adrian. The reality her entire squad was dead. The thoughts muddled in her head like the effects of consuming too much alcohol.
Students entered and took their seats in the arena-style room. Caged fluorescent lights swung at the empty center, forming spotlights on the ground that followed students. Chatter broke out in clusters as the room continued to fill with bodies. Some jumped, shaking out their shoulders and loosening their muscles. Maura relaxed into the chair.
“You’re new, right?” a female voice asked from beside her.
Maura turned to the teenager, her blonde hair thrown into a sloppy bun, her fingers blistered with turquoise scars. She faced forward, eyes fixated on a crack in the concrete wall. “Yeah.”
The girl shifted closer, making her chair squeak. “Professor Hawthorne isn’t like other professors here.”
“Oh?”
“I thought I should warn you.” She leaned closer. “One time, he had to summon an Elixir for a student.”
Maura looked at the girl from the corner of her eye. “I’ll be fine.”
After a few minutes, the professor emerged from a back office. With a single clap, he silenced the class. The overhead lights dimmed, leaving the fluorescents to burn brightly. Each angled toward him, sending a radiating glow around his muscular build. His black suit contrasted well with the brightness and matched his hair.
Flipping her vision, thick, dark scars lined his exposed skin. His black eyes deepened with dark magic while his smile lightened his kind features. He needed to work on his Illusion.
Maura shifted, crossing her legs.
“I’ve been told,” his voice came out thick, “we have a new student with us today.”
Oh for Heaven’s sake.
“Who wants to make a bet?”
Chuckles scattered in the large room.
The professor smirked, pacing the front. “No one?” He scanned their faces. “I’ve taught you all too well.” Smiling, he leaned against the concrete wall. “I’ll make a bet with the new student.”
Fuck me.
“Here it is.” He held up a finger, pacing. “I bet I can find you on my first try.”
Maura hummed as she flipped her vision again. His black magic formed a cloud at his feet, itching to absorb the class. Pressing his mind, she found nothing but a block. Bastard is trying to keep me out.
“If I win, you have to partake in a demonstration.” A smile twisted his lips. “If I lose, you’ve avoided me for another day.”
Students laughed. Others sat on the edge of their seats, searching the class.
Maura didn’t try to hide.
“Let’s see.” The professor released his magic. It slunk along the concrete floor, slithered over desks, and around their feet. Dark matter, almost like fog, tickled their toes, surprisingly cold.
He walked to the other side of the room, tapping his chin. With his focus drifting away, Maura relaxed.
Maybe he isn’t as good as he thinks.
Darkness rose to her row. She stared through its translucent skin and stopped breathing in hopes it would leave. It snaked in the air, judging her moves as she pushed away. She could almost see a cocky smile etched in the smoke.
Shit.
It wrenched her from the seat. A gush of wind ripped at the particles of her energy and sucked her into itself.
She opened her eyes. The professor stood at the head of the class with her, a smug look plastered on his face. She looked at the class, unable to see them past the bright lights.
Ah, a Leroux. His voice interrupted thoughts.
Pins and needles exploded along Maura's arms and slithered down her back with a cold sweat.
He smirked, turning to the class.
“What am I demonstrating?” she asked.
“A Defense Charm, of course.”
Maura grimaced.
“I need a volunteer.”
“For what?” she barked.
The lights swung over the class, and the professor ran his hands over the ecstatic classroom. “You need someone to defend yourself against.”
Anxiety bubbled in her veins. Racing thoughts of killing an entire class eased into something less nerve wracking…like just maiming a few.
That’s not a smart idea. She hardened her glare. Unless you want a body count.
You’re disciplined. More so than the most archaic Mystics.
She rolled her eyes.
“We are going to try something different this lesson.” The professor reached for a cloak and tossed it to Maura. “Put this on.”
She held it on the edges of her fingers. The dark material shimmered silver when it caught the light.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“A Shield.” To ensure I don’t kill you.
Maura mirrored his devious smile. She dropped the cloak and walked to the other end of the room.
The professor constructed a Shield with the wave of his hand. The glass Shield separating them from the class glowed blue. Points of silver solidified the spell, spiraling in and out of the turquoise to repel magic.
“Contrary to other defensive arts,” he began. “We do not shake hands, bow or acknowledge our adversaries. They are trying to kill you. They will not greet you with respect.”
Maura slammed into the wall, breathless. The class gasped. The merciless ground cracked her knees. Every wound felt raw and new again. She bit into her lips to keep from screaming.
“And they do not wait until you are ready,” he smirked.
She grunted, rolling to the side. Profanities slipped past her lips as she tested the stability of her legs. With a wave of her hand over shattered kneecaps, the grinding of bones stopped.
“Dana, tell us about Probing,” the professor said.
Maura rose, unsteady. A dull ache throbbed in her legs but was soon replaced by the desire to beat the shit out of the professor.
“Probing uses the victim’s memories against them.” Dana’s muffled voice sent a chill down her spine.
You don’t know what you’re about to do, Maura warned.
“Jim, tell us how one defends themselves against this spell.” He cocked his head to the side, his eyes trained to her hands. Have something to hide?
Yes. She tightened her fists. You’ll put everyone in danger if you exploit me.
“They should use a Repellant spell,” Jim answered after flipping through his book.
“How does one conjure such an advanced spell? Emily?”
“It’s a mix of two spells.” Her voice chimed over faint murmurs.
“What are they?” He stepped toward Maura, hands behind his back, gaze honing in on her movements.
She hardened her stance, feet firmly rooted, fingers charging idle spells. I could end this right now. A quick, harmless spell could knock him off his feet. Paired with Paralyzing Inhalant, she could flee.
“A Seal Charm and a Shield Charm,” Emily said.
The professor stepped forward. “Correct. The Shield protects the victim’s mind while the Seal keeps memories from leaking out.”
She reached for the small vial in her front pocket.
The professor’s eyes froze her movements. “Together they form a Repellant, and the power of their memories is thrown back to their adversary. We call it getting a taste of your own medicine.” Are you ready?
I don’t have powers like that.
Do you want your class to learn you are not a Mystic?
No!
Then st
op me.
He threw her into the wall. Images of Maura’s family tore into her mind. The red eyes of her mother glistened as her father kissed her cheek. She rolled with the motions of the fall.
Again, the professor thought.
Maura searched her mind for the concoction of magic needed to produce a Shield. Filed deep within, she channeled it into the room. Like rainwater, it trickled over her shoulders and collected in her fingertips. Pulsing to the beat of her heart, she let it form a bubble. Strings of black and turquoise wove in-between each other. A silver glimmer swam over the creation, hardening the spell.
The professor released his attack.
Screams of Maura’s family and crackling fire shattered the top of the Shield. Spiderwebs consumed the matter. She quivered under its force. Another blow took out the right side, leaving her with a jagged portion. Images flew past her eyes. The screams grew louder. They reeled in her mind, gaining speed. Each of their faces blurred with the next. Sounds meshed together to form inaudible pleas for mercy.
With one final blow, the Shield exploded. The force tossed her back, leaving her lost in the past.
Blood paints Maura’s home crimson. Fearful screams shatter windows and haunt the manor.
“Adrian!” Her mother screams. “Take me instead!”
The memories agitated The Void, like grinding salt into a fresh wound.
Maura lay on the floor, cringing as the professor’s spell took her under again.
“Run!”
Adrian lugs Mother out by her hair. She kicks and screams, trying to conjure a spell in her mangled palms. “Maura! Run!”
Waves dragged Maura deeper into thoughts she’d repressed. Every cell in her body felt as though it would explode.
Maura watches her home burn. Hate surges in her. Fear of being alone paralyzes her. Grief brings her to her knees.
Screams die in the blazing flames.
She’d yet to see dark plumes of magic rise to the heavens, signifying her family’s death. Adrian wants them to burn, she thinks.
Blue Ruin (The Phoenix Series Book 1) Page 6
