Page 142 of Demon Touched

Instead—unbidden and forceful—I see an image in my mind’s eye. A glittering cloak, swirling in the air, and a set of ancient runes. I don’t know their meaning exactly, but I can feel them, the shapes carving something into my thoughts. It feels like opening something, or peeling it back, pushing aside an obstacle to move beyond it.

I’m staring up at Roseingrave as she steps back from me, satisfied with how much she’s taken. My hands are empty, neither shadow nor lightning materializing in my palms. But what she hasn’t noticed yet is that the air between us is shimmering slightly, vibrating like a mirage. It’s thinning, becoming flimsy and malleable.

I know I’m doing it, but I don’t know how or why. And then Roseingrave is looking up, her eyes widening.

“What is that?” She takes a frightened step backward, staring at the spot between us where reality seems to be wavering. “Stop it now!”

The order has barely left her lips when the parlor door slams open, and a storm of shadow and power bursts into the room.

Syrus

Strickland is trying to ask me about the demon lords when I notice it. Her absence. It sends a cool gust of discomfort through me.

“Would you excuse me?” I say to the chief assemblyman. He seems reluctant to have our conversation cut short, but he lets me step away.

She’s not in any of the other rooms where guests are mingling. It’s possible she’s just stepped outside for some air, but another notable absence stops me in my footsteps. Our host isn’t anywhere to be found, either. Lady Roseingrave, the kind of glittering peacock who should be the center of attention in any room, is missing from her own soiree.

Leah wouldn’t leave the party without telling me. And Roseingrave wouldn’t leave her party unless she had something else very important to attend to. I often poke fun at Leah and her gut instincts, but right now, mine is rioting inside my stomach, ringing a very loud alarm: something is wrong.

I try to turn down a corridor that leads deeper into the house, but a footman steps into my way. He seems to regret it the moment he lays eyes on me, paling as he cranes his neck to look up at my face.

“I’m afraid the rest of the house isn’t open to guests, sir,” he says, though it comes out as a squeak.

I don’t even bother with a reply, shouldering past him to turn a corner. Darkness, this would all be so much easier if I could still just reach out and slip into Leah’s mind.

The footman doesn’t try to stop me, but before I can take another step, a wave of charged energy rolls down the corridor, putting me on the alert. The sensation makes my muscles tense and my skin itch. Someone’s conjuring powerful magic nearby—so strong it makes my own magic twitch in my veins, eager to respond.

Except that no one should be conjuring magic like that at a human’s party.

I start running, following the throb of power to a room on my right. My shadows are already in my hands as I hear Roseingrave’s voice behind the door.

I throw it open, sending dark tendrils curling in ahead of me. For a moment, my heart stops when I see Leah lying on the couch, still as a corpse.

No. Please. Darkness, no⁠—

Then I see the glass lying spilled by her feet and the way her eyes shift frantically as the air shimmers between her and Roseingrave.

My shadows swarm the dark-haired woman, wrapping around her throat. She starts to scream, but my magic chokes the sound off, squeezing just shy of tight enough to strangle. I’ll save the execution for a moment I can savor it.

As Roseingrave’s hands fly uselessly to her throat, she drops a metal cylinder onto the plush carpet. I only need to glance at the runes and red stains on it to understand this is more cursed blood magic. I crush the cylinder under my boot, snapping it in two with a swift stomp as I throw myself down by Leah’s side.

Whatever power was making the air shimmer has slipped away now as I bend over my love.

She’s so pale and still that it feels as if all the air’s been squeezed out of my lungs. I lay a hand over her forehead.

“It’s okay, Leah, I’m here now.”

I grab the glass off the floor and sniff it. There’s something bitter hiding beneath the red wine, though I don’t know enough about Stratan poisons to recognize it. I spin around to Lady Roseingrave, who’s bent over, gasping for what little air she can get.

“What did you give her?” I growl, my magic making my voice roll through the room and rattle books on shelves. I loosen the shadows a touch, allowing her enough breath to answer.

“Go back to the putrid hell you came from—” A gurgle rises from her as I cut her off with my shadows again. I don’t have time to torture the answer out of her, so instead, I move to the door to bellow down the corridor.

“I need a healer!”

Many footsteps answer, but a crowd of nosy partygoers won’t do me any good now. I duck out into the corridor, scanning for Strickland.

“Strickland, I need your wardens now. And a heal⁠—”