Despite the fact that Lucifer used a cleaning spell last night, I decide to strip off and take a quick shower. My body hurts from being fucked by him last night, but it’s a good kind of pain, and when the hot water stings my wounds, I can’t help but moan in delight.
I dress quickly when I come out, pulling on a fresh uniform, stockings, my knee-length leather boots, and finally my cloak. It’s still dark outside the window. Good. I’m hoping I’ll catch Professor Lockwood before he starts work. I cast a glamor just to be on the safe side. The last person I want to come across this early in the morning is Mrs Thornhart or any of the Poser Posse. Too early for that. I need coffee first.
Excited to see him, I climb the tower stairs to his chamber. I know he always keeps his door locked, so I use the little spell he taught me one night to unlock it. When I creep into his room, I find him standing by his imposing desk, his back facing me. He’s only half-dressed in a pair of suit pants and shoes, nothing else. I lean against the doorframe, silent as can be, and take a moment to admire the view. He’s so different from my other lovers. He’s taller, of course, but around eighty percent of his body is covered in tattoos. I watch the corded muscles moving in his back as he grips the side of his desk. I don’t bother making my presence known. I’m too busy watching the way droplets of water from his wet hair slip down his spine.
Grinning, I slowly tiptoe over to him and wrap my hands around his eyes. “Good-morning, Sir. I hope you’re excited to see me.”
Lockwood reaches for my hands and pulls them away. “Reach down and find out.” I try to move my hands down, but he grips them a little tighter. “What are you doing awake at this hour, Hemlock?”
My grin melts away from my face. “I came to ask for a favor. I need some time away to attend an important gathering of my coven.”
I sense the humor also leaving Lockwood as he lets me go and turns to look at me. He takes a sharp inhale through his nose, puffing his chest out so that I’m pressing against him. The muscles work hard around his jaw and I’m almost hesitant to ask him. His dark blue eyes search my own quizzically. Sometimes when he looks at me like this, I think he can read my thoughts.
I step back and settle down in one of the armchairs. Lockwood crosses his arms and looks down at me in silence. Fuck, that look of his does things to me. It’s like he’s fucking me with his eyes in the most violent way possible.
“What kind of gathering?” he asks.
I look up at him through my lashes. “Satanalia. It’ll be held at the Church of Shadows in Draoich.”
“And that’s the only reason you’re going?”
My heart skips a beat in my chest. I don’t want to lie but I also don’t want him to know what Cassim has in store for me. He and my covenmaster aren’t exactly on the best of terms.
“No,” I answer honestly. “But I’ll return exactly as you see me now.”
He nods slowly, his eyes still searching my own. I let out a quiet breath I wasn’t aware that I’ve been holding. I thought he was going to say no just there. Not that it would’ve stopped me. I have no choice but to go to the Church of Shadows, and even without his permission, I’d have to leave.
“Forty-eight hours,” Lockwood tells me, “and I expect you back here not a second late.”
“Thank you, Sir. I have an assignment due—”
He unfolds an arm and waves his hand dismissively. “Have it on my desk by Sunday at Witching Hour. You’re going alone?”
I dip my head. “Yes, sir. Well, I’m taking Broin and Mephisto. I think His Excellency will send a chaperone to meet me at the border.”
Lockwood’s eyes flash at the mention of Cassim. “I see.”
Turning around, he walks through the antechamber into his bedroom. I shift nervously in my seat as I wait for him. He returns only a few moments later and hands me two small vials filled with liquid, one dark and the other crystal-clear.
“If you should need me, pour the ink into a fire. The potion will open a temporary portal on my end. The other will open one on yours. Use the latter when you wish to come back.”
“Thank you, sir,” I beam up at him.
“I could give you another one to take you there…”
“No need. I’m quite looking forward to the journey with Mephisto. It’s been a few days since I’ve ridden him.”
He lingers slightly at my side, and when he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, my breath hitches. There’s a possessive glint in his eyes that takes my breath away.
“I’ll be expecting more than a piece of paper spread on my desk when you come home, Ravyn.”
Hearing my name on his lips, strung together with the word home and a devilish promise, sends a shiver down my spine. I catch the side of his hand and suck his middle finger all the way down to the knuckle. Lockwood sucks a breath in through his teeth and I grin up at him. Knowing I’ll soon be at his mercy is enough incentive to get through this punishment.
We set off at dawn. I decided not to tell Redera because I don’t want her to worry. I know my sister, and I know she’ll be freaking out all day if she knows where I’m headed. My nervous energy is passing through to Mephisto, who’s being fractious and difficult. It takes all of my concentration to stay on his back and keep him moving toward the border when it seems he only wants to run away.
Just like me.
Broin is silent as he escorts us, flying alongside the path and going from tree to tree, leading the way. I know he’s got his own reasons to be apprehensive. This is going to be my punishment, but I have no doubt that he’s going to be suffering, too.
Cassim is an expert that way.
I’ve been subjected to his special mercies before. Three years ago, before my life turned upside down, I was betrothed to his son, Damien. My grandmother and Cassim’s wife worked out the details without his consent, and when he found out, he was spiteful and angry that he hadn’t been consulted. Cassim decided that I needed to be tested to see if I was worthy of his precious boy. I still have the scars, but apparently, I passed. I wonder if I’ll be as lucky this time.
I promised Lockwood that I’d be coming back exactly the same way I am now, but I’ll be honest—that might have been optimistic. What I went through before was a trial by ordeal. This is just a trial.
We’re getting closer to the border, and Broin isn’t flying as far ahead. In fact, he doubles back and lands on my shoulder. He leans against me and trills into my ear, trying to soothe both of our apprehension. We cross the bridge that separates Fantasia from Draoich, and when we get to the other side, Mephisto stops short and almost sends me over his neck. His reaction startles me and sends Broin into the air again.
“What the heaven is the matter with you?” I chide my horse, adjusting my grip on his reins. His ears swivel back toward me and he snorts.
—Nightmares,—Broin says.
I see them now, melting out of the trees around the Draoich end of the bridge. Cassim’s black-armored border rangers, their faces hidden behind dark visors, appear in front of us, riding demonic horses that blow smoke from their nostrils. The smell of brimstone on their breath is choking.
“Halt,” one of the riders says, her voice cold. “Ravyn Hemlock?”
I raise my chin and speak in a voice that is much more confident than I feel. “Yes.”
She responds, “You are bound by order of His Excellency and hereby taken as our prisoner to be escorted to the Church of Shadows.”
—Prisoner?—Broin echoes, indignant. He squawks at the leader of the rangers, who stares at him as if he’s some kind of curiosity instead of a powerful druid locked into the shape of a raven.
I wasn’t expecting this, but a part of me thinks that maybe I should have been. I let the lead ranger take Mephisto’s reins and tie them to her saddle. She produces a set of manacles from a hook on her belt and holds them up.
“Your wrists, witch.”
Broin flies at her, his talons outstretched, squawking in rage. One of the other r
angers nocks an arrow into a crossbow and takes aim.
—Broin, no!—I shout to him through our bond.—Stop!—
He swoops past her at the last minute, and the ranger with the bow holds his fire. I don’t want this to get any uglier than it already is, so I hold out my hands. She puts the manacles on my wrists and connects them by a chain to her belt. She glances up at the tree where Broin is lurking.
“Keep your familiar under control,” she orders. “I don’t want to kill him, but if he attacks us, I will.”
“He won’t attack you,” I assure her. “He’s just protecting me.”
She looks at me, then back up at Broin. “Hmm.”
Whatever she’s thinking, that doesn’t sound very promising.
The road through Draoich is dark and overhung with trees that seem to glower at us as we pass. The leaves have begun to fall, and the bare branches scrape at the sky like skeletal fingers digging their way out of the grave. I keep feeling like we’re being watched, and we probably are. Nobody knows all of the creatures that live in these woods.
I never used to feel nervous about the forest or the things that live in it. I was just another dark creature in a dark place. I don’t know when that changed, or if the white magic that’s been transferred to me is reacting to the dark magic all around us. Maybe it’s just that I’m dreading reaching our destination. I just can’t shake this feeling of unease settling over me.
We turn south toward the Church of Shadows, and I can see the black spire rising above the trees. If it were summer, the thick covering of black elms and mighty oaks would obscure the building from view. With the leaves gone and winter setting in, even nature is refusing to stand between me and my punishment.
The lead ranger looks at me as we ride, studying my face. Her scrutiny is annoying, and finally I snap at her.
“What? Am I growing a second head or something?”
“You look like her,” she says simply.
“Like who?”
She doesn’t answer. If I wasn’t manacled, I’d wring her neck.
Broin lands on my shoulder and rides with me as we approach the settlement that surrounds the church like a troop of mushrooms around a rotting stump. It’s late afternoon and the sky itself is beginning to darken, deepening the shadows all around us. We pass a group of people on the road, other witches coming to the Church for Satanalia, and they stare as we go by. They whisper among themselves, probably discussing my manacles, and I almost expect them to throw rotten vegetables at my face. I feel utterly humiliated, which is probably Cassim’s plan all along.
The rangers bring us through the settlement. The town square is decorated in black and red flags and lanterns for Satanalia. There’s the usual village well in the center of the space, but on one side are a set of stocks and adjacent to them is an outside gaol that’s filled with angry-faced people. The ranger captain dismounts from her nightmare and tugs the chain connected to my wrists.
“Get down,” she says.
I swing my leg over Mephisto and slide down to the ground. It’s hardly a graceful dismount, but I manage not to fall on my ass. The ranger who had the crossbow grabs a bag and starts to move toward Broin, and I wish not for the first time that he could break his curse at will. As a raven, he’s in a precarious position.
—Ravyn, I’m not leaving you.—
He sounds anguished.—Yes, you are. Get out of here before they hurt you. Come back after dark.—
He hates it, but he flies up to the treetops where he can keep watch over me without being in reach. I hope he manages to stay out of the way of any arrows, too.
“Leave him alone,” I tell the rangers. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“Guilt by association, girlie,” one of the rangers barks, and another laughs at his words.
“Gil, Milo, stop it,” their commander snaps, and the two men stop laughing. “See to the horses.”
Reluctantly, they leave Broin alone and take the nightmares and Mephisto into a black stone stable nearby.
The ranger captain pulls me after her toward the Church. It’s a huge building. The walls are made of black basalt and they gleam ominously even in the brightest sunlight. Magical torches burn by the doors, and a line of constant flame, fed by burning oil, rims the roof. There are stained glass windows that depict scenes from Lucifer’s life in shades of orange and red, and the doors are black-painted wood heavily barred with iron. Beyond them, my doom awaits, and I can’t help the nervous lurch my heart gives as I follow the commander inside.
The interior of the Church of Shadows is just as dark and imposing as the outside. The floor is black marble, and the pews that stand in line after line are made of black-stained wood. Splashes of red and orange paint the black from the pale sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows. There are tall candelabras standing against the walls, the flames from the black candles giving extra illumination that seems to vanish anyway just as quickly as it appears. The place is well named.
The pews are filled with my fellow coven members, who are sitting in silence. They’re all wearing their darkest black with red ribbons tied around their upper arms or necks to honor the fallen. Ahead, at the end of the long aisle between the pews, is a raised dais that supports the main altar. His Excellency is standing behind the altar, and to his right is what looks suspiciously like a whipping post. The dais also holds detailed portraits of Grandma and Redera, propped up on wrought iron easels and wreathed in black roses and more red ribbons. More tall candelabras stand, black candles blazing, and the light flickers across my family’s faces.
It suddenly occurs to me that I’m at my sister’s and grandmother’s funeral.
The ranger captain marches me right up to the dais. Cassim sneers at me and turns his back. He has a cat o’nine tails on the altar, and every string of braided leather is studded with pieces of broken glass and sharpened steel. My mouth goes dry and my knees feel like they’ve been replaced with water, and not in the good way.
My escort takes the chain that’s attached to my manacles and links it through another chain on the whipping post, attaching them with a carabiner. Once she has the shackles secured, she pulls it taut so I’m on my tiptoes, hands high over my head. She locks the chain into place and steps back with a bow to Cassim.
“Turn around, witch,” he orders, his voice a hateful growl. “Face your former brethren.”
I do what I’m told, because if I do anything else, I’ll just make everything worse. I see Damien, Cassim’s son, sitting in the front row and staring up at me. His eyes are bloodshot and he’s never looked at me with such burning hatred before. There’s a look of murder in his eyes that makes my stomach churn. I knew Damien and Red were friends, but I never thought for a second I’d see him so cut up over her death.
Or over anything, actually.
He seemed so normal when I saw him last week.
I guess grief does that. It makes you want to be normal despite how terribly your heart is breaking inside. I feel ashamed looking at him and I train my gaze back onto his father, who saunters over and grabs my face. He holds my jaw in his hand as if he’d like to rip it off.
“This is the witch,” he pronounces. “The one who betrayed our Dark Lord. The one who betrayed her family!”
An old woman with a scratchy voice shouts from the back. “The one who betrayed us all!”
“Yes! She renounced our Dark Lord and gave him no choice but to remove his protections,” Cassim agrees. He gives me a baleful stare that makes my spine go cold. “And because of her, we were all unprotected… everyone in She’ol.”
I gape at him, shocked by the lie.
“The protections were returned to us because of my supplications,” he continues, lying so boldly that I can scarcely believe what I’m hearing. “But not before two of our sisters paid the price for this witch’s folly.”
He nods to Damien, who jumps up onto the dais. He comes to me and pushes a wide, flat piece of leather into my mouth. It hold
s down my tongue and fits between my teeth, and it’s so big I think I’m going to choke. He glares at me the whole time, and if looks could kill, I’d be a grease spot right now.
“Red deserved better,” he hisses to me. “It should’ve been you that died. Traitor!”
I don’t know what to say or do, so I only nod. Yes, she deserved better. Yes, her death was my fault. But the whole clan, unprotected? No. It was just us Hemlocks, and Cassim knows this. Why is he lying?
“Lucifer has forgiven us for the trespasses of this witch,” Cassim tells the congregation. He’s enjoying this. Their rapt attention and the way they hang on every word out of his mouth is getting him off, and I’ll bet he’s got a raging hard-on under those black robes. “Lucifer has forgiven us, but have we forgiven her?”
The other members of my coven respond quickly. “No!”
A man shouts, “Why, my lord? Why did she do it?”
Damien steps back and picks up the cat. I eye him nervously.
His father answers, “She wanted to usurp her sister’s place at Everafter,” he accuses, pointing at Red’s picture with dramatic flair. “She betrayed her own sister so that she could take her place and play at being a princess!”
The congregation boos, and I shake my head vigorously. No, that’s not what happened, I want to say, but they’ve prevented me from speaking.
From explaining myself.
From screaming.
They all think I did this—that I deserve this. I suppose they are right, for behind Cassim’s lies are slivers of truth. This is all my doing. No one forced me to leave the coven. I chose to go.
He walks over and grabs the neck of my dress in his hands. He gives it a hard wrench, and the fabric tears. He shreds it apart, opening a jagged rip from neck to abdomen, exposing me to the cold air and the hateful glares of my coven. He pulls the dress off the rest of the way and drops it onto the wooden floor of the altar dais. The look he gives me is both lustful and predatory, and I wonder if he’s going to just take me here and now. He steps back, but his eyes are still on my body. Reluctantly, he turns back to the crowd.
Once Upon A Devil: A Dark Academy Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Everafter Academy Book 3) Page 4
