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Even if the odds are against us.
TWELVE
Asha
Dark magic enfolds the mansion like an invisible dome, and I feel its nauseating power the moment the wheels of our SUV roll past the gate. Orson notices when I clutch my stomach and clench my jaw, and he leans forward from the backseat to ask, “Are you alright?”
I nod and bite back the queasiness. It’s only a moment before I acclimate and the dark magic takes on an alarming allure. Like Satan offering his hand to lead you into a world of wicked pleasure.
I’ll stab him in the eye instead.
The magic I can ignore, but it’s everything else that will be tricky. I take slow, even breaths and focus on where I am and who I’m with. The Blood Mages will be powerful, but I can handle them. Whatever happened to my people, I can help them get better. And Simon? I can kill him, because I don’t have another choice. His time has come.
Sweet Simon with the goofy grin. Sweet Simon, who used to grab my hand as we laughed and ran through our town. He’s gone forever. I can lay his body to rest.
“Earpiece check,” Max says, drawing me back to where we are. “Everybody hear my voice in their head?”
“Like a gnat buzzing in my ear,” Braxton teases. He’s leaning back, as if relaxed, but I can sense the tension singing through his big form.
I press my finger to the device and ensure that it's hidden deep enough in my ear canal that no one will notice. It is, even though it feels weird.
“Good?” asks Max, removing his eyes from the lambo ahead of us to check in with me. I hear his voice twice, once from the air, the warm baritone with the power to thrill me, then again after a millisecond delay, stripped of its bass and made tinny.
I nod. “Good.”
“Loud and clear,” says Orson.
“Obviously, be discreet,” Max cautions, “and for god’s sake, nobody touch your ear when you’re talking. This isn’t a movie.”
Ahead of us, the lambo’s doors slice upwards and a pair of sexy vampires step out into the moonlight. The driver casually tosses his keys to a young valet, who catches them mid-hustle while rounding the hood. The flashy squat wedge of a car pulls away and we take its spot.
“Here we go,” says Orson.
The valet service descends on us, opening each of our four doors. A slight boy, likely no older than eighteen, offers his hand to me. I refuse, hopping out of the seat indecorously. He spares me a split-second of side-eye before his duties call him towards the next car in line.
Okay, so I guess this dress is working for me. Hopefully, that won’t be the only thing that goes well tonight.
The four of us gather before the entrance, where a butler in a tailcoat smiles at us with a faint air of impatience. Max presents him with the tickets, their gold embossed text flashing as they change hands. The butler gives each of the four tickets a quick inspection before disappearing them behind his back.
Did he slip them into a pocket or use magic to burst them into flames?
He bows and sweeps his hand towards the front door of the mansion, saying, “Lady and gentlemen, enjoy.”
Yeah, right.
With a hand against the small of my back, Max whisks me through the foyer, down a hall, and into the soiree. The interior is lavishly cavernous, with a vaulted ceiling whose gilded beams glimmer by the light of the enormous chandelier. Beneath its nest of crystal shards, a marble floor spans ballroom to lounge, the whole of it covered in guests.
I can sense the vampires, the shifters, and every variety of other supernatural. Not just by their scents, but by the power they emanate. Among them are the Blood Mages, who stick out to my heightened senses. Their magic is far more powerful, but also dark, tainted, and unsettling… leading me to wonder if they’ve used their powers recently.
The blood my mates have given freely enhances my extrasensory awareness, gives me a wider range, allows me to pick on the subtlest presence of magic in my surroundings. It’s like my senses have been amplified to the maximum, and now I simply need to work on staying focused.
Even though the dark magic in this place is anything but subtle.
It throbs and pulsates in the air, like the thumping bass at an electro dancehall, vibrating the floor beneath my feet, vibrating in my chest, whispering for the dark magic within me to answer the call.
My eyes narrow as I scan over them. The Blood Mages bask in its corrupting power. The men and women stand about the room, laughing and smiling, drunk on their power. Mages have never been like this. They were men and women with enough power to make their lives a little easier, but certainly not dangerous. They were looked down upon by most other supernaturals. I don’t know what changed with these mages, but they turned themselves into something else. Something powerful, illegal, and awful all at once.
I want nothing more than to cut short their indulgence with swift, lethal justice.
