Outlast: Spellslingers Academy of Magic (Warden of the West Book 3)

by Annabel Chase

  The intensity of his gaze was overwhelming. “Good.”

  “Good? Why is that good?” I asked, dread rising within me. “You know what happens when you drink my blood.”

  “I’m yours,” he said, cupping my face in his hands. “Bend me to your will, mistress.”

  I blinked. That didn’t sound right. Gray wouldn’t want to be controlled by anyone, and I certainly didn’t want to use blood magic. Not on Gray. What if I accidentally hurt him? Or changed him? That was too much responsibility, and I cared too much for him to risk it.

  “I don’t want to control you,” I said. “I…I release you.”

  “I don’t think it works that way, mistress,” Gray said. “I’m your servant now.”

  “No, this isn’t you,” I said, trying desperately not to panic. “I need Gray, the real Gray. Not a blood puppet.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have let me drink from you,” he said.

  He seemed remarkably calm under the circumstances.

  “How do we fix this?” I asked. I felt adrift, and I longed to lean my head on his chest and feel safe.

  “I don’t know that we can,” he said. “Your blood is in me now, mingled with my own. They can never be separated.”

  My brow creased. “Never?” My chest began to ache. I controlled Gray for the rest of my life? I broke out in a sweat as fear settled in my gut. I couldn’t do this to Gray.

  “What’s wrong with your skin?” Gray asked.

  I held out my hands to see them turning dark grey. The color traveled up my arms, sweeping over me.

  “Shadow Sorcerer,” Gray whispered, and I saw the pure horror reflected in his eyes.

  “I’m not.” Despite the words, I felt the magic within me, demanding attention. Demanding that I use my hold on Gray. But Gray wasn’t serving me. Not really. We were both serving the magic.

  Dark magic.

  “Use me,” Gray said. “I belong to you now.”

  Use him, the magic insisted.

  I felt my resistance weakening. The truth was that I did want him to belong to me. Maybe not the way the magic had in mind, but still.

  This was a nightmare.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt an awareness growing.

  Focus on the nightmare.

  I didn’t understand those words. This nightmare was awful. I didn’t want to focus on it.

  Gray’s expression—it wasn’t even his. It was so slack and without the usual fire. I couldn’t stand to see him like this.

  “Make me yours,” he said. “To do your bidding.” Even his voice sounded hollow.

  “No,” I insisted. “I don’t want this kind of power. It’s too dangerous.” I was ashamed of myself for putting Gray and me in this position. Now I was succumbing to the darkness and dragging Gray down with me.

  As a child, meeting my father had always been my worst nightmare. Now that he was dead, following in his malevolent footsteps had taken its place.

  And there was that word again.

  Nightmare.

  Wake up, Bryn, a voice urged softly. My voice.

  “I’m…asleep?” I surveyed the area around me. I was here, with Gray in the underworld. We were in a misty meadow, enjoying the smell of honeysuckle.

  It’s not real.

  Gray smoothed my hair. “What is it, mistress? You seem unwell. I can’t bear to see you in distress. Is there something I can do?”

  There was. “Kill me.”

  “Mistress?”

  “Kill me, Gray.” Instinct told me it was the only way to wake up. To get me out of this nightmare. Otherwise, I’d be trapped here—wherever ‘here’ was.

  “Mistress, I…”

  I pressed my finger to his lips. “You have to do as I say, Gray Mappleworth. You’re my blood puppet, so kill me. Now.”

  Gray didn’t flinch. The second his fangs appeared, he lunged for me, tearing at the flesh of my neck. I squeezed my eyes closed. Although the pain seared, it only lasted a split second.

  My eyes popped open, and I jerked up my hands. Relief washed over me when I realized my skin was back to normal. I was inside another cavern, and I immediately felt the sting of cold air.

  A pale reedy demon loomed over Gray as he slept on a marble slab. It had to be the one responsible for inducing the nightmare. Poor Gray. I didn’t want to imagine his nightmare.

  “Gray, wake up!”

  I had to stop the demon. The creature turned toward me and shrieked in protest. Its red eyes burned with anger as it moved toward me. I called to the air as I slid off the marble slab and was relieved when my magic responded. I threw out my hands and a strong wind blew the demon back. I quickly realized it was stronger than it looked when it remained on its feet, fighting against the current.

  “Leave him alone,” I yelled. “Gray, you have to wake up!”

  If I could get to him, I could save him. I had to keep the demon away from the sleeping vampire.

  I reached for my wand and was elated to find it was still tucked in my waistband. I summoned a blast of fire magic. I wasn’t sure if fire would hold the demon back, but it was worth a try. A wall of flames separated the demon from Gray, and I ran to the vampire, shaking him violently.

  “Gray!” I slapped his cheek so hard that I left a red handprint.

  The demon emerged from the flames, scorching but intact. I had to break his hold on Gray, but I didn’t know how. I felt the magic rise within me, ready to strike. As I met the demon’s beady gaze, an idea sprang to mind. I aimed my wand and released a surge of power. Blue light streaked from the tip of my wand and penetrated the demon’s head. Its red eyes turned as white as its body, and it began to convulse. Blood trickled from its nostril, and I continued to apply pressure until parts of its face exploded. The demon’s body went limp and dropped to the ground.

  Gray’s eyes flew open, and he was on his feet before I even had time to register his movement.

  “It’s a nightmare demon, Morrow,” he said.

  I tucked away my wand. “Kinda figured that one out already, but thanks.”

  Gray glanced at the cavern floor in amazement. “What did you do to him?”

  “An unhealthy dose of sinus pressure,” I said, with a shrug. “I was out of ideas.”

  “Sinus pressure did that?” Gray gaped at the demon’s remains.

  “He seemed impervious to fire, and I didn’t sense enough water down here.”

  “Down here?” Gray queried.

  I pointed upward to a gap in the ceiling. “We’re basically in a hole in the ground, probably in the meadow. I tried to use wind against him, but it wasn’t strong enough, so I used excessive pressure in all the available air pockets in his head.”

  Gray folded his arms, clearly impressed. “What made you think of that?”

  “My mother,” I replied. “It’s not quite the same as what I did, but she once told me about a scuba diver that died during decompression. She wasn’t one to shy away from gruesome details.”

  Gray studied the opening above us. “It must’ve been the flowers we ate.”

  “I thought maybe it was the mist. Knocks the demon’s victims unconscious until it can cart them to his chamber of nightmares.” I cocked my head. “How do we get out of here?”

  He gestured to my waist. “Pull that wand out. You can boost us up with a strong gust of wind.”

  I was a little tired from the air magic I used on the demon, but still had enough energy left for a boost. “I think I can manage that.”

  Gray held out his arms. “It might be easier if I carried you. Then you only need to focus on lifting one body.”

  Hesitantly, I retrieved my wand and let him scoop me up. I called to the air around us and pointed my wand at the ground, summoning the wind. We shot off the ground like a rocket and flew straight through the hole. Thanks to Gray’s preternatural grace, we landed in the meadow with ease.

  “The map is gone,” I said, feeling my pockets. “I think I must have dropped it in the cavern.”<
br />
  “I remember the highlights,” Gray said. “We’ll make due. You have your wand.”

  “Yes, and my dagger’s still there,” I said, feeling the light pressure of the blade against the inside of my calf. “But the axe and staff are gone.”

  Gray joined me in performing a quick sweep of the land in case we missed them. “The demon must have disposed of them. It’s not like this is a well-traveled path. We probably could’ve come back days later and the weapons would still have been here.”

  The thought of days spent in my nightmare made me queasy. “I’m really sorry about the detour,” I said.

  Gray balked. “Why would you apologize? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “It was my idea to eat the flowers.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it was the mist.”

  I knew he was only trying to appease me, and I appreciated the effort. Of course, the mention of eating the flowers only served to remind me that I was still hungry.

  “Just out of curiosity,” Gray said, “what was your nightmare?”

  I shook my head. “You don’t want to know. It was awful. I had to get myself killed to wake up.”

  “Glad you did. If you hadn’t severed my connection to the demon, who knows what would’ve happened to me?”

  “What was your nightmare?” I asked.

  Gray’s expression clouded over. “It doesn’t matter, Morrow. It’s over now. Let’s forget it.”

  It mattered to me. “You killed me,” I said. “In my nightmare. I made you kill me.”

  “But you’re here now,” Gray said in a soothing tone. “We both are. Everything’s okay.”

  Although I nodded, I didn’t believe him. We were still in the underworld, separated from our friends. Everything was far from okay.

  11

  We left the meadow and followed a well-worn trail in the valley until we reached the edge of a forest. A lone, nameless inn beckoned in the distance. On cue, my stomach rumbled.

  “I know, I know,” Gray said. “You want to stop and eat.”

  “Do you mind?” I asked. “It’s got to be safe, right? I mean, what are the odds of another nightmare demon?”

  Gray chuckled. “Pretty low, I’d say. Let’s take our chances.”

  “This place looks pretty desolate,” I said. “They’ll probably be pleased to have visitors.” My least favorite shifts at the restaurant had been the slow ones during the off hours. I preferred busy and bustling because time seemed to fly by. Before I knew it, I’d be showered and in pajamas, chatting with Icarus about the most demanding customer or the exceptional tip I’d received.

  Once we drew closer to the inn, I noticed an adjacent field and stables. There were a variety of animals wandering around the field, including chickens and several fat pigs. A single white goat stood at the fence, watching us.

  “Chickens and pigs in the underworld?” I queried, pointing. I thought of Miss Butters, and wondered whether we were missing anything good in Arcane Rites. Probably just Langley’s perpetual sneer.

  Gray followed my gaze. “You should be happy. Looks like they keep decent livestock.”

  “I guess I’m basically looking at the menu.” I felt a pang of guilt. It was much easier to eat meat when you didn’t see it walking around outside the restaurant.

  Gray held open the inn door and gestured for me to go first. “See? I have manners, after all.”

  “If you have to point it out, then probably not,” I shot back.

  The interior of the inn wasn’t much different from what I’d expect to see in the human world, albeit a couple hundred years ago. Wooden tables and benches filled the sparse room, and an Inglenook-style fireplace was nestled in the far wall. A cauldron dangled over the open flame.

  “Visitors, how lovely.” A plump woman bustled over, wiping her hands on her apron. Her white hair was tucked under a bonnet. “I’m Hilda. Are you in need of a room? I have clean and comfortable places to sleep and ample space.”

  “Food and drink will suit us,” Gray said. He tilted his head toward the empty room. “Unless you’re not accepting customers right now.”

  “Oh, I’m always accepting customers,” Hilda said. “Day or night. Can’t afford to be choosy out here.”

  “No, I guess not,” I said. “Is it just you here?” I couldn’t imagine being a woman living alone in the middle of this underworld, especially with nightmare demons and Arctic giants running amok.

  Hilda sighed gently. “Afraid so. My husband left years ago, never to return.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “It must be very hard, running a place like this on your own.”

  “It isn’t easy, I’ll say that much.” Hilda’s troubled expression grew cheerful. “Never mind my grousing. Sit down and I’ll fetch your drinks.”

  We chose the table closest to the fireplace, and Gray chose the chair facing the door. Hilda brought two tankards and set them on the table.

  “I figured warm fizzlewick cider would do the trick,” she said.

  “Sounds good to me.” I took an eager sip. “Delicious.”

  “It’s homemade,” she said. “Not much in the way of distribution out here. For meals, I can offer you roast pork. My side dishes are less exciting, given the landscape here.” She fidgeted with the brim of her bonnet. “My gravy is excellent, though. Travelers come for miles to taste the gravy. I use it with every dish.”

  “Sounds perfect,” I said. I couldn’t wait to dig in.

  “That’s quite an impressive selection of livestock, considering your location,” Gray said.

  Hilda smiled. “You’d be surprised what souls barter away when they’re desperate.” Her gaze drifted to the steaming cauldron. “Two roast porks then?”

  My stomach was practically screaming. “Yes, please.”

  Hilda regarded me. “Please,” she repeated. “One of my favorite words.”

  “Mine, too,” I said. “I’m a big fan of thank you as well.” I pressed Gray’s foot under the table with my own.

  Hilda observed me as I drank more of the cider. “You’re still a vessel.”

  I peered up at her. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re more than a soul.” She folded her arms across her large chest. “What are you doing in the nether?”

  I decided honesty was the best policy. “We’re in search of a friend. She was stolen from the overworld by a demon, and we’ve come to take her back.”

  “Stolen, you say?” Hilda frowned. “Is your friend a nymph of some sort?”

  “No, a witch,” I replied. “She was taken from Spellslingers Academy of Magic.”

  Hilda eyed me curiously. “A witch? And are you a witch, too?”

  “Sort of,” I said. “I have magic, but very limited training.” I opted not to delve into the details of my heritage.

  “I see.” Hilda turned her attention to Gray. “I know what you are. Can’t say we see much of your kind down here. This underworld tends to cater to different demons.”

  I glanced at Gray. Even though I knew he was a vampire, it was odd to think of him as a demon.

  “I’ll be straight back with your roast.” Hilda retreated into the kitchen.

  “Something’s off,” Gray said quietly.

  “What do you mean?” Hilda seemed perfectly pleasant for a woman who lived alone in a creepy, isolated part of the underworld.

  “How did she recognize you weren’t a soul?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I assume it’s obvious to everyone down here.”

  “No,” Gray said. “To guardians at the gates, maybe. Not to random souls like the innkeeper.” He leaned back in his chair, thinking. “I know you’re not going to like this, but I don’t recommend eating the food. We need to find a way to politely refuse.”

  I heaved a sigh. “I was afraid you were going to say that.” I fiddled with my empty tankard. “If you’re not going to drink your cider, can I have it?”

  He examined the liquid more clo
sely and raised it to his nose to sniff it. “No. I think it’s a potion of some kind. I think it’s how she recognized you didn’t belong here.”

  “What would be the point?” I asked. “How often would she get travelers that didn’t belong here?” I couldn’t imagine it was a regular occurrence.

  “We need to be careful, Morrow,” Gray said. “She may look like a sweet old lady, but those have been some of my most fearsome adversaries.”

  A chill crept up my spine. We’d only just escaped from a cavern of ice giants and a nightmare demon. I didn’t want to go straight into battle with a bonnet-wearing innkeeper. I was tired. And hungry. She wouldn’t like me when I was hungry.

  Hilda returned, carrying two steaming plates of mouth-watering food. She set the food on the table, and the smell of gravy filled my nostrils.

  “That looks amazing,” I said.

  “Thank you, my dear,” Hilda said. “I’ll grab your cutlery, and you can get started.”

  “Before you do that,” I said, “would you mind answering one question for me?”

  She kneaded her hands as she looked at me. “Of course.”

  “Are you an underworld witch?”

  Gray launched into a coughing fit. “You’ll have to excuse my companion. She’s unskilled in social etiquette.”

  Hilda passed Gray a knowing look. “Oh, I doubt that very much. Anyone who acknowledges ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ as among her favorite words isn’t lacking in etiquette.” Hilda pivoted to me. “Yes, my dear. I am a witch.”

  “Like me?”

  “No, I don’t believe so.” Hilda seemed almost sympathetic in her response.

  “How do you know?” I asked. “Maybe we’re related.”

  Hilda laughed. “Aren’t you adorable? I doubt very much that we’re related, though it’s a lovely thought. Enjoy your food.”

  I stared at the full plate. “Are you sure it’s a bad idea? Like one hundred percent?”

  “I’m sorry, Morrow. Truly. I swear I’ll find you a delicious meal at the next opportunity.”

  I pushed the plate away and averted my gaze from the thick gravy. “How do we slip out of here without inciting drama?”

  “You can use magic on the food,” he said.