Dirk had already stepped away. “You.” He stopped in front of Kyra, moving until his face was only an inch or so from hers. “You still do not stink of fear, why?”
“I’m terrified,” she lied. She had witnessed summoning’s since before she could walk, had bathed in blood before she could speak, but she should have still felt fear.
His hands moved faster than her eyes could track, his palms gripping the side of her head. “The others, they bathe in disappointment and dread, yet you taste different, raw. It’s interesting. I have yet to meet a witch whose power tastes quite like yours.” His breath was cold, as were his lips when he pressed them against hers. She tried to pull back, panic tightening her chest as his hands gripped tighter, his tongue stroking against hers with a quick flick.
His hold released, and Kyra fell to the floor. An intense chill settled against her tongue, pins and needles choking her throat. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there trying to control the alien sensation in her mouth, but when she looked up everyone had left.
Kyra settled herself on all fours, her weight on her palms as she took in a few unsteady breaths. Her attention settled on the bird in the centre, the weak creature forgotten amongst the commotion. Reaching forward she cradled its body in her palms, feeling the weight of the life lost.
Her palms warmed, her fingertips sparkling as she closed her eyes and pushed just a little bit of her chi into the bird.“In morte vita,”she whispered, imagining the cut along its chest knitting together, and then its heart beating. She imagined blood pumping, healing, and breath filling its little lungs.
A sharp pain started high on her thigh, blood seeping into her skirt as it echoed the same length and size as the cut that had sliced the bird’s chest. She knew without opening her eyes that the bird was whole once more, a replicate wound now echoed in her own flesh. She didn’t understand that part of her magic, because it was of death, and yet she could bring life for the right cost.
“What a waste,” Frederick tutted beside her.
Kyra opened her eyes just as the bird was snatched from her palms. It chirped, wings flapping as it tried to escape.
“Please, don’t!” she said, climbing unsteadily to her feet. She hadn’t heard him approach, thinking she was alone.
Frederick raised a brow. “Our new friend has gone to prepare some grimoires, I’m sure we will be hearing from him soon enough.” He raised the bird to his face, the creature struggling in his grip. “I do love a successful outcome.”
“You’ve agreed to help him, but their magic doesn’t work with ours.”
“I’m aware, but clearly Dirk doesn’t,” Frederick smirked. “We may not be able to do their magic, but with their knowledge we can adapt it to benefit us.” He met Kyra’s eyes. “Daemons have access to unlimited power through the ley lines, if we could just tap into that we could expand our chis beyond their natural ability. Could you imagine how powerful I could be if I wasn’t so restricted?”
“You’re crazy,” Kyra whispered. “You would trick a Daemon, for what? An idea of unlimited power? You don’t even know if that’s possible. ”
Frederick dropped his attention to the bird, holding it out to her. As she went to grab it he flicked his wrist, and broke the birds neck. He allowed it to fall lifeless into her outstretched hands. “Life and death are two opposing forces, and yet here you are. Nothing is impossible, you have shown me that.”
She cradled the bird to her chest, and Frederick reached forward to stroke a finger against her cheek.
“Be very careful Kyra,” he said, his voice strangely soft. “You have shown me yet again you cannot be trusted, maybe you would be better suited like Saul.”
Kyra knew he needed her voice for spells, but she couldn’t control the panic that shot through her like a poisonous dart.
“You’re on your final warning. If you stand out of line again, your license will be revoked and you will be sentenced before The Magicka. Don’t test my patience,” he said, stroking the head of the bird. “I wouldn’t want you to end up like this little guy here.”
Chapter12
Kyra
Kyra finally reached her floor, her legs weak but no longer shaking. A vile taste had settled in her mouth, and she couldn’t even blame the vomit. After emptying the contents of her stomach, twice, the taste that coated her tongue from the kiss had only grown stronger.
Blood crusted her skirt and tights, but as it they were already black it blended into the weaves without drawing too much attention. A couple shifters on her way home had looked at her with a peculiar expression, and she dared look at the Vamp who had sat a few seats beside her on the tube.
She needed her own car, but the money she could have used to buy one had been stolen along with her Go Bag. She had never intended to stay so long in the city, knowing London was popular amongst Breed. Yet she was still there.
She may no longer be inside a cage, but she was trapped just the same.
The wound on her leg was sticking to the fabric as she walked, uncomfortable as she made her way down the corridor to her flat. It would scar, but her thighs were already a history of such spells and sacrifices. Some she was willing, but many of them she was not.
The lights were off, and the panic that she had controlled earlier rose until it wrapped its cold hands around her lungs. With sweaty palms she reached for the switch, knowing full well she never turned it off.
With a click the single light that illuminated the living room and adjoining kitchen wheezed into life. She hadn’t screamed in years, knowing that type of sound only pleased the people who had hurt her, but she screamed then. It only lasted a second, and the embarrassment that burned her cheeks strangled the lasting remnants of panic.
Xander sat on her sofa, legs stretched and ankles crossed. He said nothing as she collected herself in the threshold, his expression hidden behind the sunglasses he wore.
“How did you get in?” she asked, her voice husky. “I’ve only just had the locks changed.”
