Royals of Villain Academy 7: Grim Witchery Read online

  I might have changed a lot from the Rory I’d been back then, but I didn’t have to leave every part of that life behind. I could—I had to—hold onto the parts that mattered to me as well as I could.

  And I knew, when I met Connar’s eyes, that he believed that too. I swallowed hard, abruptly wrenched by the longing to have this connection forever.

  It didn’t do either of us any good dwelling on that. I turned my gaze back to the paintball.

  “Phoenix,” I said, picturing the figurine I’d been working on when the fearmancers had stormed Mom and Dad’s house, willing my magic into the paint. It shifted slower than with Connar’s more practiced power, but the ruddy shape twisted and warped with another casting word and another until a brilliant bird leapt from flames between my fingers.

  “Very appropriate, my Fire Queen,” Jude said, with a peck to my shoulder. “I won’t shame myself by trying to compete with either of you when it comes to conjuring. But I can…”

  He waved his hand through the air, and an illusionary dragon sprang into being, scales twinkling with every color from red to violet as it soared over us. I tucked my hand around Jude’s and leaned my head on Connar’s shoulder, and wished that we could paint right over the horrors still waiting for us back in the wider world.

  Chapter Four

  Jude

  Night had fully descended when we returned to campus. Other than a couple of passing students, the green was still and quiet in the yellow glow of the buildings’ outer lights—no more shrieks or terrifying illusions right now, thank God. I swiped my hand over my mouth, my skin cleaned of paint through a combination of magic and the arena’s showers, but a hint of the sharp smell still lingered. I wasn’t sure I wanted to completely wash that away just yet.

  Rory’s good mood had dampened as we came out of the garage, but her eyes were still brighter, her stride steadier, than before. I’d helped her remember herself and her power. If that was the best I could offer with the craziness rising up around us here, at least it was something worthwhile.

  When we reached the green, Connar took Rory’s hand with a deliberate air. He drew his already tall form even straighter, his jaw setting as if daring anyone who happened to look to take issue with their closeness.

  Rory glanced up at him, her cheeks flushing but her voice quietly hesitant. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to make it that obvious that we’re back together?”

  He and I were the only two in our pentacle who’d been open about our relationship with Rory—and in recent weeks, Connar had turned on her in a very public way under the duress of a spell his parents had inflicted on him. The more open affection he showed for her now, the sooner word would get back to Baron Stormhurst that we’d cracked the spell. Lord only knew how she’d react to that.

  “I told my mother I’m not leaving you,” Connar said, low but firm. “Let her find out how much I meant that.” Despite his defiant tone, his shoulders had tensed. He knew he could be in for a rough time because of that decision.

  And he was making it anyway. A twinge of respect ran through me for the guy. To be honest, in the past, he’d always made me a little nervous. Between his taciturn nature, the aggression that’d sometimes burst out of him when one of us faced even a minor affront, and the rumors about how savagely he’d attacked his twin brother years ago, I’d struggled to feel comfortable letting down my guard. But since Rory had come into our lives, it’d been impossible not to see that there was a lot more to the Stormhurst scion than a violent musclehead.

  I really shouldn’t be surprised by that. There was a lot more to me than the cavalier joker I’d presented myself as to the other guys, that I was only just starting to show them.

  I had Rory, maybe more than any of the rest of them did. The one bright side of my screwed-up history was that it made me a free agent when it came to intimate pursuits. So I could afford to be generous now, especially when Connar probably felt he still had a lot to make up for after the way he’d acted under that spell.

  “You two go on ahead,” I said to them, and added a wink. “Make out in the common rooms—that’ll get mouths flapping fast.”

  Rory opened her mouth, no doubt to reassure me that I didn’t need to take off, and I cut her off with a quick kiss. “I’m good. After all that… physical activity, I could use a walk to cool down before I’ll get any sleep.”

  She gave my hand a quick squeeze. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  As they headed into the dorm building, I walked on past it, crossing the green and venturing onto the wilder field beyond. The darkness lay thicker there, but the moon was half full, casting a pearly gray light over the rippling lake beyond the Stormhurst Building. A chilly breeze drifted off the water all the way across campus. Maybe I wouldn’t wander quite that far.

  As I ambled closer to the shelter of the forest, an uneasy prickling crept down my back. I paused to scan the deeper shadows amid the trees and the field around me. I didn’t see anyone else around—but Baron Killbrook had sent minions to spy on me under the cover of illusions ever since I’d moved out on my own.

  He’d want to keep an even closer eye on me now that I’d revealed that I knew I wasn’t really his son. Declan had even gotten the impression that he assumed I’d told the other scions, although I’d have expected a bigger backlash if that were true.

  Maybe I was just being paranoid. If he did have someone watching, I didn’t really want to give them the satisfaction of seeing me run back to Ashgrave Hall with my tail between my legs.

  I started walking again with a casual roll of my shoulders. I veered farther away from the woods, though, figuring I’d loop around to the Stormhurst Building and then walk back to the green along the official path.

  Before I’d taken more than a few steps, my ears caught the crack of a twig somewhere behind me. My nerves jumped to an even higher alert. It could have been only an animal, but I’d rather not take the chance that it wasn’t.

  Angling my body so the motion wouldn’t be visible from behind, I carefully slipped my phone out of my pocket. Glancing over my contacts list, my thumb hesitated beside the screen.

  Rory might still be with Connar. What a wimp I’d look like if I called on one of them, interrupted the end of their part of our date, and it turned out to be nothing. Malcolm and Declan were almost definitely on campus too… but, fuck, I hated the idea of summoning any of them to my rescue, especially when I wasn’t sure I even needed one.

  I’d admitted to them that I wasn’t really a scion, and they’d accepted me as is. How long would that last if I acted like a weakling who couldn’t hold his own against strange noises in the woods?

  My stomach clenched. I was about to swipe the list away and turn off the phone when a faint hiss reverberated through the air behind me.

  I whipped myself to the side instinctively, and my thumb jammed down on Declan’s name. An instant later, a paralyzing bolt of magic slammed into my side. I managed to drop the phone into the grass as my right arm and half of my torso from shoulder to hip went rigid. With a heave of my legs, I propelled myself away from it and whipped around.

  A casting word sputtered over my lips to form some kind of a shield, but that was physicality magic, and for all it was supposed to be one of my strengths, the truth was I sucked at it. Which my father well knew, since he was the one who’d interfered with the university enrollment evaluation to make sure I showed up as having the standard scion three strengths rather than a more mundane two. A shimmer of conjured energy whipped up in front of me—and smashed with a crackle a second later as another stunning bolt slammed into it.

  The shield deflected some but not all of the spell’s power. It caught my leg, clamping around the muscles from my knee down. I stumbled, barely holding myself up. My arm dangled useless at my side. I couldn’t even see my attacker, only the empty field and the forest beyond.

  If Declan had picked up, he’d be listening now. “If you’re going to pick a fight with me, at least look me in the f
ace,” I shouted. “Fucking coward! Got me alone in the middle of the east field and you’re too scared to show yourself?”

  A gasp of pain escaped me as the spells already clutching me dug in deeper as if they had claws. I sputtered out the words to cast another shield as quickly as I could.

  The air vibrated as a volley of spells hurtled toward me. I threw myself to the ground, since there was no way I was running anywhere now, and at least one of them whizzed by over me. The others crackled against the shield, their impact diluted, but still broke through. One smacked into my other leg, locking it in place. Another clipped my left shoulder. Now I couldn’t even crawl. Lord knew what they would have done to me without the shield in place.

  My mouth still worked, but I didn’t see what use illusions or insight would do me right now. I snapped out a casting anyway, a flash of light I hoped would blind the asshole after me. My tongue tripped with another wash of pain. I forced out another few words, scattering reflections of myself on the field around me. More targets, less chance my attacker would hit the right one.

  None of my limbs would move. I sprawled back, muttering to strengthen my shield as well as I could, however long this one would last. My heart thudded so hard it felt ready to break my ribs.

  A blur streaked past my vision, racing through the illusions in front of me. They held in place—my illusions weren’t any joke—but casting that many, I hadn’t been able to create much impression of physical presence. It’d be obvious to anyone who touched them that they weren’t really me.

  The blur swiveled around me, a figure cloaked in some kind of concealing spell. Magic slapped through the shield and across my jaw with a splintering of agony.

  My teeth clacked together, nicking my inner lip. The metallic flavor of blood seeped across my tongue. The pain clawed down my throat to burn into my chest. I couldn’t part my lips to squeeze out a single spell.

  I tried to roll to the side, but the blur was on me, what felt like an elbow bashing into my skull, a heel ramming down on my sternum, sending the pain there spiking deeper in every direction as even the limited protection of my shield fragmented. Inside my head, all I could do was silently scream, No, no, no!

  I didn’t want to go like this. I didn’t want to die. Not when I’d just managed to start pulling my life together into something good. Not lying helpless and useless in a fucking campus field. Please, please, no.

  Magic exploded behind my collarbone like a spray of shrapnel. More seared across my forehead and blazed through my mind. My thoughts started to fracture in the wake of the agony.

  Another blow sent my head snapping to the side as the shield disintegrated completely. I barely felt the graze of the grass against my cheek.

  And then voices hollered out from somewhere, distant but unmistakably furious even to my addled mind. A spell sang through the air over my body and must have struck my attacker. A grunt escaped the blurred form. It lunged at me with another muttered casting, and a wave of magical force flung it backward.

  I couldn’t turn my head to see who was coming. Couldn’t even see what my attacker was doing next. As footsteps thumped over the ground, my vision hazed, the edges of it going black. Then pain seemed to explode right in the center of my head, and my consciousness snuffed out.

  Chapter Five

  Rory

  It was funny how much your impression of a place could shift over a small length of time. When I’d first arrived at the main Bloodstone residence a few months ago, it’d been ominous and unknown. During the time I’d spent there, I’d started to see it as a new home. Now, driving through the gate to park outside the looming walls of dark limestone, I felt almost as if I were arriving at a prison.

  This place wasn’t really mine anymore—not to do with as I wished, anyway. It belonged to my mother, first and foremost. All the dreams I’d started to have, all the plans I’d been in the process of making, I had to keep under lock and key while she ruled over the Bloodstone domain. While she ruled over me.

  But if Malcolm could criticize his dad’s decisions after the awful punishments Baron Nightwood had put him through, I should be able to have my say too. I had plenty of reason to speak up now. By far the largest of which was currently lying limp in the Blood U infirmary while the doctor on staff and others called in for the emergency cast their spells to patch his battered body back together.

  I closed my eyes for a second with my hand on the car door. Tears burned behind my eyelids. Jude had been bleeding and bruised when we’d found him in the field, unresponsive to Declan and then Malcolm’s attempts to rouse him. As far as I knew, he hadn’t woken up yet. We hadn’t been able to apprehend the figure that’d assaulted him, but it wasn’t hard to guess who was responsible.

  Baron Killbrook had clearly decided his secret was too close to exposure. Destroy the key evidence, and he’d never be convicted. What did it matter to him that the “evidence” was a young man’s life?

  I couldn’t present my mother with any of those claims, though. Who knew what would happen to Jude if the other barons found out he’d been standing in as a false scion for his entire life—and had known he was living a lie for several years? His supposed father would be punished, sure, but he might face even worse.

  The least I could do was make a plea to end all the other attacks being carried out on campus.

  I’d known better than to assume Baron Bloodstone would be at home, so I’d called ahead of time to make sure. She was expecting me. When I reached the door, the house manager, Eloise, opened it immediately and ushered me in.

  “How’ve you been doing, Miss Bloodstone?” she asked me as she took my jacket. “Have you been holding up all right?”

  After everything I’d been through in recent weeks, I had no idea whether she was referring to the murder accusation I’d had to defend myself against, the battle to rescue my mother, the violent attack of one of my colleagues, or something else altogether. From the anxious creases at the corners of her mouth, I suspected she hadn’t missed my mother’s guardedness around, well, everyone. She might even be worried I’d said something to provoke that distrust.

  “I’m managing,” I said, giving her a smile I hoped was reassuring. Eloise had been nothing but attentive and considerate during the short lengths of time I’d spent at home. I didn’t think she deserved my mother’s suspicions. “Thank you for asking.”

  The manager bobbed her head and motioned me down the hall. “The baron is in the sitting room. I’ll bring around some tea for you both. And Claude baked a lemon loaf this morning.”

  “That sounds delicious.”

  I inhaled slowly to steady myself as I stepped into the sitting room. The sharp smell of wood smoke tickled my nose. My mother was standing by the hearth rather than sitting in any of the wingback armchairs, her slim form bathed in the flickering light. A waft of heat reached me even from the doorway.

  “I’m sorry for coming on such short notice, Mom,” I said. My throat still constricted a little whenever I called her that. It was hard to think of her as “Mom” when that role had been filled with so much more compassion and love by the woman who’d actually raised me, even if I hadn’t truly belonged with her. “I felt the situation was urgent.” And I’d figured it’d be harder for her to dismiss my concerns in person than over the phone.

  My mother turned, her penetrating gaze taking me in. I’d managed not to outright cry since I’d left Jude’s bedside in the infirmary this morning, but I’d imagine the strain of my worries for him showed on my face all the same. He brought so much light and passion into the pentacle of scions and into my life… I didn’t know what I’d do if he didn’t recover.

  “Of course,” my mother said in her usual implacable voice. “You should always feel you can come to me, Persephone. I trust your judgment in evaluating what’s important.”

  And I’d better not make her regret that trust. I swallowed hard and moved to one of the chairs, not wanting to sit while she was still standing, just resting
my hand on the padded back for some sense of support.

  “You heard what happened to Jude Killbrook,” I said. I didn’t need to make it a question. There was no way all of the barons wouldn’t have been informed of an attack on one of the scions.

  My mother nodded, her mouth slanting in a tight line that I thought showed at least a little genuine sympathy. “A horrible situation. I hope that the culprit is found swiftly. All the more reason for you to be honing your defensive skills.”

  “Yes, well, I…” I dragged in another breath and forced myself to get to the point. “I know we’ve talked about the new policy with the Naries and that you’ve been happy with the progress made so far. I understand your points about letting us benefit as much as possible from the fears we can stir up in them. But I think opening it up in a sort of uncontrolled free-for-all might have worse consequences than anticipated.”

  The baron cocked her head. She could connect the dots from there easily enough. “You think the relaxing of our required secrecy is related to the attack on your fellow scion.”

  “Yes.” My fingers curled against the fabric of the chair. Maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but it was close enough. “I was there when the professors gave the okay to us yesterday. A lot of students leapt right in to harass the Naries in the most awful ways they could think of without any reservation. And then the same night, someone lashes out at Jude that violently? Relaxing that policy has ended up encouraging a lot of vicious acts… I don’t think it’s a stretch to think some of those students will turn that violence toward other fearmancers as well. You take away a major rule, and people can run wild.”

  “I think you underestimate the discipline of your peers.” My mother moved away from the fireplace and sank into the nearest chair. “Most of them have been taught how to moderate themselves from a very early age. They may run wild with the Naries while they’re getting used to their new freedom, but that doesn’t hurt anyone. It would be a much greater transgression to risk injuring a scion. Have you seen any evidence that it was a fellow student and not an intruder?”