Trying to rid the bleariness from my vision, I rubbed my eyes, only to find the text from my book blurring and the letters jumbling about on the page. I immediately raised my hand, cutting Mr. Kroeger off mid-sentence.
“Yes?” he said.
“Could I be excused?” I asked weakly, my voice barely managing to reach the front of the room.
“Uh, sure.” He motioned to the lavatory pass. “Are you alright?”
“I’m okay,” I muttered as I walked woozily to the door.
***
Muffled voices could be heard through the closed classrooms down the corridor as I continued in my trek to the bathroom down the deserted hallways. The lights continued to flicker, and accompanying a loud, thunderous BOOM! came my greatest fear. All the lights went out, and I instinctively jumped at the screams emitting from the nearest classroom.
“Everybody, settle down,” ordered Mrs. Branford from the other side of the closed door.
Two soft taps echoed in the distance behind me in the corridor, and my heart throbbed as I cowered over to the side of the hall. The only thing worse than being left alone in the dark was coming to the realization that you weren’t really alone, and that dread overwhelmed every fiber of my being.
Then those two taps resonated again.
And again.
And again.
Someone was heading down towards me.
I quietly crouched down, my back pinned against a locker, as the footsteps galloped in my direction. The shoes froze the instant they reached me, and all the hair on my arms prickled up as my skin ached from the goose bumps that suddenly formed. The lights crackled back on for just an instant, and I nearly screamed.
But it wasn’t from what or who I saw. It was from what I didn’t see. I didn’t see anything. The hallway was completely empty.
I expelled a stifled breath, seeing it vaporized from the bitter cold that suddenly invaded the air in the last second just before the darkness swallowed up the surroundings once more.
I scrambled to my feet, uncertain as to which direction I should run. With fifty-fifty odds, I shot off to the right, only to hear footsteps meeting up with me at the corner of the adjoining hallway. Slamming on the brakes, I whirled around in anticipation to run like a bat out of hell. Only, I crashed into the heavy, unmoving figure that suddenly manifested directly in my path just as the lights flickered back on. Scuttling back upright from the cold tile floor, my eyes traveled to the brute’s knee-high black leather steel toed boots and up to the long leather duster whose deep-set hood hid this stranger’s features.
Raising a leather-gloved hand, this figure unsheathed a long filigree sword from the scabbard resting across his back. The frightening markings gleamed under the florescent tube light bulbs lining the hallway. It was most definitely an Angelorum blade.
I outright screamed as I ducked and sidestepped the first attempted strike that connected with the front of the locker closest to where I had just been standing, the steel carving clean through the painted sheet metal of the door like it was made out of tinfoil. Bolting back in the direction I had originally chosen to flee from, I wound up colliding with someone else the instant I rounded the corner into the next hall, my body ricocheting off them before smashing into the wall as I hit the floor.
Sprawled out and dazed, I stumblingly climbed back up to my feet in desperation, but my disorientation sent me crumpling back down to my knees as my vision swayed and my body stung.
“Kat?”
I bewilderedly looked up to see Mr. Warski, my teacher, readjusting the glasses on his face as he got back up to his feet as well following my impact.
“Miss Shaw, you cannot just go flying down the hallways like that,” he snapped angrily, rubbing his beaten shoulder. “Someone could get seriously hurt.”
“But he-” I muttered, pointing back down the hallway where I came from. I was dizzy with fear-induced adrenaline, preparing to continue in my escape attempt when Mr. Warski poked his head around the corner of the hall.
“Don’t!” I screamed, stumbling backward.
“Kat, there’s no one else out here,” he said, looking both ways down the hallway. “What were you doing?”
He was completely calm, so I stole a look as well. Sure enough, it was deserted, and the damaged locker was now perfectly intact.
“Miss Shaw, are you all right?”
Vertigo had taken me over and I was shaking violently as cold sweat ran its way down my neck. “N-no, I…I think I have to go to the nurse,” I stammered, clumsily going down the hall away from him. “I’m really not feeling well. I’m-I’m sorry.”
***
I wasn’t sure what it was with the local medical practices’ insistency to leave burnt purple spots in their patients’ vision, but I spent the whole next period in Nurse Patty’s office with her shining a small flashlight into my eyes about a thousand times. It came as no surprise that she suggested I had suffered a panic attack, given that my heart still pounded furiously a good ten minutes after I came in to see her. I obviously left out the part about the phantom attacker. As soon as the manic anxiety subsided, I was sent back to class. I told myself I could handle the wait until the end of the day to talk to Blaine, but my body didn’t seem to agree.
I sent him a handful of texts that went unanswered, and in my state of desperation, I did the unthinkable…for me anyway. I snuck out of class. Thankfully, Mr. Foster had his classroom door open, and I immediately spotted Blaine sitting right by the entrance upon arrival.
“Pssst.”
With an arm perched up on the desk, Blaine had his head resting against his hand as he was clearly sleeping.
Perfect.
I wound up waving my arms to catch someone else's attention around him and motioned for them to nudge him.
The guy behind Blaine gave him a soft poke with the top of his pen, and Blaine snapped awake. He looked around, immediately spotting me by the door.
“We need to talk,” I mouthed, motioning for him to join me in the hall.
“A little busy,” he mouthed back with a yawn, nodding to the front of the room.
Bastard. The second Mr. Foster turned his back to the class, I raced over to Blaine and dragged him clear out of his seat and into the hallway. “I have a problem.”
“I’d say,” Blaine cracked, straightening himself out after I released my hold on his arm.
“I’m serious.”
“What? Did Little Miss Overachiever fail an exam, or something?” he jabbed, and I all-out hit him. “Owww!”
“This isn’t funny!”
“Well, I’m sorry, but was it not you who ordered that I leave you alone?” Blaine drawled. I continued to glare at him, and he finally huffed. “What kind of problem are we talking about here? ‘Dagnabbit, there’s no milk at home,’ or ‘Holy Swiss cheese! There’s a meteorite plummeting from the sky right for us!’?”
“Consider the fact that I chose to sneak out of class to come and talk to you of all people,” I countered. “I’ll let you be the judge.”
“Point taken.” He bowed. “What troubles you, Majesty, to come and grace a commoner such as myself with your divine presence?”
My teeth gritted as I tried to refrain from going off on him. He knew I needed his help, so the ass-hat was going to take as much pleasure from the scenario as possible. “Someone attacked me in the hallway,” I whispered.
“Come again?”
“I was on my way to the bathroom when some hooded Assassin’s Creed wannabe suddenly showed up and went after me!”
“Did your Omen rune ignite?”
“Yeah.”
By the look on his face, it was obvious Blaine was far more doubtful than alarmed.
“What?”
“Our runes are linked; as your Maker, if any of yours go off, those same ones will light up on my own arm. Granted, mine won’t ignite. It’s more like a subtle glow, but with some serious vibrations,” he drawled casually. “Hence, my disbelief, given that ther
e’s been inactivity on the runes-front all afternoon.”
“Well, maybe if you weren’t sleeping—”
“Trust me, that would wake anyone up.”
“Well, I’m sorry,” I scoffed, “but I know what I saw.”
“And pray tell, how did you fend off this guy?”
“I-I didn’t… He just disappeared.”
Blaine sighed. “Kat—”
“I wasn’t imagining it!” I sneered, trying to keep my voice under nothing but a low snarl.
“How have you been sleeping lately?”
I looked away, guilty.
“Okay, let me rephrase that, how much sleep have you been getting?”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Montgomery?”
“Okay, so I really haven’t gotten a lot of rest the past few nights,” I admitted. “That still doesn’t justify full-blown hallucinations.”
To my surprise, he winced. “Actually…”
I all-out growled. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“As the Prince of Lust, I’m blessed with the gift of prescience. You know, visions and omens and whatnot,” he said, tapping the literal Omen rune on my arm. “And since your powers are also an extension of me, you have the ability of foresight as well. But you’ll find the gift to be a little temperamental when you’re tired. You may just catch glimpses of some things, or you can go as far as experiencing waking night terrors.”
“What does that mean? That I’m gonna start trying to lick the grapes off the wallpaper soon?” I bellowed.
He chuckled.
“I’m serious!”
“No, you’re not going crazy, nor will you. Okay?”
“Something else is wrong…”
“You’re not gonna tell me you see dead people now, are you?”
“No, smartass.” I was about five seconds from kicking him in his jewels! “This guy had the same kind of sword Russell tried to kill us with.”
Blaine immediately paled, the amusement slipping from his face. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. It was Angelorum, and it had the exact same markings.” Before I could protest, Blaine was towing me down the hallway toward the east end of the building. I tried pulling out of his hold, but he refused to let go as his pace quickened. “Where are we going?”
“I’m dropping you off at my place,” he said, shoving a key into my hand.
“Why?”
“Because there’re wards set up around the entire house. No one apart from you or I is allowed to enter. It’s the only place I know you’ll be safe.”
“Safe from what?” I snapped, ripping my arm free. “Who attacked me?”
“The Angel of Death.”
Chapter 7
Killing Strangers
“I’m sorry, the what?”
We were practically running down the hallway now. Blaine paid no mind to the parking lot attendant as she hustled out after us through the side exit.
“Excuse me, young man, but where do you think you two are going?” the old woman barked.
Blaine came to a stop, turning to address the busybody for the briefest second. “You never saw us.” He pulled me back along as her uptight expression was suddenly wiped vacant.
“I never saw you,” she muttered absentmindedly, turning and heading back inside without further protest.
“What did you just do to her?” I demanded.
“We have far more pressing matters here, love,” said Blaine, ushering me inside the parked Cutlass.
The part of me that wanted to argue—which was a very, very large part—was silenced as I looked back at him. I could see the tension in his jaw, the worry wreaking havoc inside his eyes. This wasn’t a trick or some sick little game he was playing. Something was really wrong.
***
Tires squealed as the Cutlass floored it into Blaine’s driveway. My neck snapped like that of a crash test dummy as the Dark Prince slammed on the brakes.
“Don’t invite anyone inside,” he ordered. “Not your friends, not your aunt. Understand? No one.”
“I can stay at my place,” I said, pointing right next door.
Blaine’s gaze hardened.
“Fine,” I conceded, rolling my eyes for effect. “Your house it is.” I knew he wouldn’t give in to the suggestion, and I had to suppress the grin threatening to expose myself. I couldn’t afford to seem too eager at the prospect of staying at his place.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“If the Angel of Death really was out to get me, why didn’t he just finish the job? I doubt Mr. Warski posed that much of a threat,” I said disbelievingly.
“Firstly, unless they’ve fallen, angels aren’t allowed to be seen by humans. Secondly, that wasn’t actually Death that attacked you. What you experienced was a waking omen, meaning he’s on the hunt.”
I gave him my best “uh-huh, sure” face.
“Trust me, if he had found you, he wouldn’t be so sloppy as to do it in the middle of a public venue.” I rolled my eyes, reaching for the door handle when his hand claimed mine. His hardened gaze could have cut through steel, making my insides go still. “Please, just do as I ask, and stay inside.”
Swallowing down the lump suddenly caught in my throat, I nodded and climbed out of the car. The glorious purr of the classic engine ignited once more as I headed in the house. Blaine pulled the car back around and floored it off down the street. Wherever he was going, he couldn’t seem to get there fast enough.
Well, this was something.
There I stood, alone and welcomed inside the Dark Prince’s home, allowed to venture freely. Unsupervised. Prying the boots off my feet, I kicked the front door closed and threw all the locks into place. After tossing my coat onto the rack, I yanked every last window shade down and began my search.
If I was highly classified information, where would I be hiding?
Despite my initial assumption of the downstairs, I decided it would be best to not leave any stone unturned. I wasn’t the type of person to rifle through other people’s personal belongings, but I happily made an exception in this case. Sadly, all the cabinets and drawers were either empty or filled with nothing of consequence.
Making my way upstairs, I was met with further disappointment to see the first two bedrooms were literally bare. Not so much as a moving box inhabited the space. I could see the door to the Master Bedroom cracked at the end of the hall, but any interest vanished as I snuck a peek into the only other room.
An office.
Rich mahogany furnishings occupied the space, the scent of coastal beach soap lingering in the air. Blaine always smelled of it, hinting he’d spent a great deal of time in here to leave a signature like this so quickly after moving in. I took a seat at the desk, nearly jumping out of my skin at the sound of my cell phone going off.
“Hey,” I sighed.
“I got your texts. What the hell’s going on?” demanded Reese.
I relayed everything—or at least, almost everything—to him, from the fortunetelling place to the attempted murder in the hallway.
“But you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. I left school,” I assured. “Right now I’m at Blaine’s place.”
“…Come again?”
I half-laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. “Yeah, I know. He said the place was protected by wards and stuff to keep anyone else from getting inside here, so I’m safe—at least, for now. Blaine thinks it was the Angel of Death who attacked me at school. Do you know anything about him?”
“Is he there?”
“Death?”
Reese sighed. “Blaine.”
I chuckled, continuing to scour through the desk drawers. “Sorry, blonde moment. No, he ran off to go investigate his theory. I’m just in here doing a little reconnaissance work.” Any amusement died as I finally brought myself to ask what I’d been dreading to even articulate. “Did you ever read anything about Blaine being able to control people? Like, have power ov
er their minds?”
Only silence answered.
“Reese? You still there?”
“…You talked to Madsen.” It wasn’t a question.
“Earlier, about visiting Lucinda. Why?”
“Oh…” The sudden awkwardness was goddamn palpable.
“Reese, what aren’t you telling me? Did Madsen find something?”
He exhaled roughly. “Remember what my father’s journal said, about Blaine?”
“Vaguely.”
“It talked about his powers of persuasion.”
‘His influence is nearly impossible to resist, thus turning anyone he captivates into his unwitting servant.’
“Yeah, so?”
“I lent the book to Madsen for him to cross-reference,” Reese muttered. “Blaine’s rune, the Mark of Sitri, it’s recognized as the primary sigil utilized in accordance with his specific powers of persuasion. It’s part of a ritual… A hex, more specifically.”
“Like, for a mating bond?” This should’ve been good news, great even. So why did Reese sound like someone just ran over a basket of puppies?
“Madsen still can’t find the full details on the ritual, so he won’t be able to backtrack in order to find a cure.” Reese cursed under his breath.
“What aren’t you saying?”
“The hex…it works like a slow-acting virus. It infects the victim, but it can incubate in the person’s system for days, weeks, even months before symptoms manifest.”
“Symptoms?”
“When the Crown Prince of Lust chooses a mate, his Mark is the source of their bond. And it’s the same sigil used for his persuasion. It slowly infects the mind, gradually brainwashing the victim to the caster’s will. Eventually, the hex—”
“Turns you into his unwitting servant.”
Covetous: An Urban Fantasy Romance (The Marked Mage Chronicles, Book 2) Page 7
