“How many?” I ask.
“Prior to this month, for the ten years we’ve been keeping track, we’ve identified forty-seven murders connected, however loosely, to the Academy.”
Goddess,that’s a lot of people. Forty-seven innocent victims, possessed and carved and burned. Tortured. Stolen from their families, their friends, their communities.
And forty-sevenmoreinnocent victims, accused and imprisoned for crimes they didn’t commit. Framed by our own kind. Executed. Not quickly.
“I’m afraid it gets worse,” Devane continues. “In the last three months alone, there have been an additional nineteen killings, including Luke Hernandez. We have no explanation for the sudden spike, but according to Anna, we can’t say we weren’t warned.”
“Warned? I don’t—”
“Prophecies.”
The room spins, and my throat tightens, as though the words themselves have wrapped around my neck, squeezing. I can’t see straight, can’t suck in enough air.
“Breathe, Miss Milan. Just breathe.” He reaches across the table, grabs my hand with a firm grip. “It will pass.”
His voice dims as the sound of rushing water fills my ears. The spinning room fades away, and all I see is my mother’s face, her eyes beseeching me, her fingers outstretched as the water snatches her away…
Flame and blood and blade and bone… Flame and blood and blade and bone they will come…
“My mother,” I breathe, my voice no more than a whisper. “That’s what you’re saying. My mother knew this would happen. She predicted it.”
The room comes back into focus, the water receding into memory. I glance down at my hand, completely enveloped in his warm, strong grip. Heat crawls up my arm, and when I meet his eyes again, I find another flicker of compassion. He’s closer now, leaning forward, searching my face, though I can’t imagine what for. His scent carries on the air current, masculine and clean, drifting tantalizingly past.
I’ve never seen the ocean, but suddenly I’m there, my body lying in the sand, the midnight sea nipping at bare skin as a hot, wet mouth devours mine, hands pinning my wrists, my body arching closer, welcoming, begging…
Across the table, I see the moonlight in his eyes, and I gasp as a shock of pleasure zings between my thighs.
Dr. Devane holds my hand a moment longer, his eyes widening as if he’s witnessing the same vision…
He pulls away abruptly, his eyes shuttering once again.
I gulp for air, shifting in my chair to relieve the aching pressure.
What the fuck was that?
“Not… not specifically,” he says, bringing me back to the moment. Predictions. Prophecies. My mother. “But yes, we now believe she saw much of this unfolding. As well as the bigger purpose behind it—a purpose wemustunravel if we want to prevent more senseless killings. Which brings me to—”
“No one believed her.”
The cold, hard reminder douses the lingering heat from his touch.
“It’s taken the Academy years to put the pieces together,” he says. “Now that we’re seeing the patterns, we have a broader understanding—and appreciation—of your mother’s work.”
“Appreciation? I don’t know what Anna Trello told you, but that’s not how…” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep the anger at bay. “They ran my mother out of the Academy, Dr. Devane. Destroyed her reputation, stripped away the protections of the coven, destroyed the life my parents had built. All their plans just… poof! They had to move, to start over, to rescind magick and everything it once met. And that’s just the stuff I overheard them arguing about—they never wanted to talk about it.”
I hold his gaze, giving him the chance to deny it. To offer me some logical explanation for what his employer did to the people I loved most in this world. I’m practically begging for it—for an alternate take on the events that caused my parents to disavow their connection to the Academy.
Through her part in this treachery, Anna Trello is responsible for rerouting the entirety of my life around the one thing that’s more ingrained in my DNA than my mother’s eyes or my father’s nose.
Magick.
Yet, sent here under her authority to bargain for my freedom, the doctor offers nothing. Says nothing. Does nothing but glance at his watch.
“You’re wasting my time—and yours.” I get back on my feet, fresh anger giving me the strength to stand. “So if you’ve got somewhere else to be today, Dr. Devane, don’t let me keep you.”
“You will have the opportunity to make your judgments about me soon enough,” he says, seemingly unruffled. “But youwilllet me finish.”
