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Jess keeps her eyes down, chewing on her lip as she holds him tight.
“He’s right,” Stevie says softly. “Never get caught alone with him.”
I don’t ask. Whatever it is, whatever made Austin react that way…
He’ll tell me when he’s ready.
“Will do,” I agree.
Stevie moves on, but Austin and Jess are still stiff, eyes dilated, pulse thrumming in their necks.
They’re scared.
“Enzo is head of Envy and will run the vices—drugs and gambling. And it’s my opinion that he’s as close to a real psychopath as a demon can get.”
“Sounds fun. Bet I’ve seen worse.” I let out a long sigh as Jess and Austin’s eyes snap to mine, both glaring. “Please forgive me. I was trying to say before that I have brain damage. My mouth says things I don’t mean and would never say if I had a choice.”
Except Idomean it. As bad as Enzo is, I know with every shred of locked-down magic in me that Malachi is worse.
Enzo likely knows what he is and leans in, uses it.
But Malachi doesn’t. He hides it from even himself.
But one day, everyone on Celestus will see my father for what he truly is.
Chapter Nine
Power can neither be given nor taken. It is granted at birth.
– Malachi Umbra
My schedule saysmy first Thursday class is Practical Magic with Ms. Greenly. I got a little turned around on the way from The Burrow, so while I’m not late, I am the last to arrive.
Every eye is on me as I enter the dark room.
“What are you munch holes looking at?” I ask the room at large. Another one without a warning. Wonderful. Father would be so proud.
Some students find humor in the nonsensical outburst, others offense.
“Ah, Ms. Collins, I presume?” Ms. Greenly, a tall witch with dark hair and vaguely demon-scented, ignores my outburst and gestures to an empty seat in the middle of the room. Right next to one Troyan Axwell.
I do not need to think about that right now, or the things sitting next to him will definitely do to my body, so I distractmyself the same way I would to keep my mouth in check by cataloging everything I can. Ms. Greenly stands behind a large wooden desk, on top of which sits a fat orange cat.
“Chonk? What are you doing here?” I ask before I can think better of it.
“See, I told you she’s juiced. The freaky cat brought her.”
I glance toward the whispers to see one of the three demon girls, the blonde, whispering to the redhead.
Olivia.
We lock eyes—hers brimming with malice—as I head to my desk, all the while keenly aware of every other eye in the room tracking my movement.
“Mr. Axwell, would you help Ms. Collins find where we left off yesterday?”
My fingers go icy as Ms. Greenly’s instruction rings out in the quiet classroom.
I refuse to look in his direction as I take my seat. Refuse to let my hands shake as I grab my tablet from my bag.
