Everyone who matters the most.
My parents.
My vampire.
My shadow fae.
My wolf.
My bestie.
Something about that doesn’t bode well with the impending arrival of Jude.
“Let’s find a good spot and barricade the doors. Thorne, can you help me combine our magic so we can fortify the building and know when someone is coming or going?” my father asks, and my shadow fae nods in agreement as Ocean waves us down the hall. “Could Elodie add to the magic too?” he adds, drawing all attention to me, and all I can do is gape at him as Thorne clears his throat.
“Her access to her shadow fae magic only seems to be present in the Shadow Realm,” he explains, but my father continues smiling.
“Then someone needs to help her with that bump on her head,” he replies, and Rion squeezes my hand.
“I’ve got you, Petal,” he murmurs, tugging metoward Ocean, who stands back and waves at the door as we draw closer. The outline of a barren buffet room stares back at me, but I can sense it’s a good space for us to lock down.
As I step over the threshold, the fingers intertwined with mine vanish. My vision blurs, making my eyes pinch shut, and the ground shifts beneath me.
Winded, my hands land on my stomach as I pry my eyes open, blinking up at a familiar ceiling as a face comes into view. If the breath wasn’t already stolen from my lungs, it would be now as I gape at the man before me.
Not a man.
A monster.
“Jude,” I grunt, watching the maniacal smile spread across his face.
“Little Weapon, it’s been too long,” he muses, offering me his hand, but I whack it away instinctively, and it sparks a rush of fire in his eyes. He doesn’t miss a beat, standing taller as he runs his hands over his dark jeans. “You broke The Vale,” he declares, and I keep my mouth shut, which makes the corner of his mouth flick up with delight. “Now there’s nothing standing between us anymore.”
“I don’t know what you think this is, but I can guarantee you, with all that I am, that it’s not what you want it to be, and it never will be.” My lips part, the unfiltered truth spilling between us.
His nostrils flare, but I don’t shy away from it. If anything, I draw strength from it, regulating my breathing with each flutter as he attempts to contain his rage. I should be afraid, but I’m not. I’m done with his bullshit. I’m done with all of it, especially if it revolves around someone alluding to me conforming to their will.
He inhales sharply, his fingers curling at his side as he plasters a fake smile across his face. “It’s okay, Elodie, you’ll understand, even?—”
“I won’t,” I interject, pressing my palms into the hardwood floor beside me, and to my surprise, he steps back, giving me enough space to rise to my feet, despite my disobedience. I plant my hands on my hips as I narrow my eyes, the magic thrumming through my veins growing more erratic with my overwhelming emotions. “The Sanctum is gone, and you’re going with it. Whatever desire for control you’ve had is gone. Especially any that involved me at your side.”
Despite my harsh tone, he smiles back at me, and there’s nothing fake about this one.
“Have you ever been in an environment you knew you didn’t belong in?”
“I don’t care for your sob story,” I retort, and he huffs.
“There was nothing sad about it; it was simply motivating. I’ve always known that I was better than my parents, better than the life they paved for me. I didn’t care for starting a rebellion, and I had no interest in being one of their little minions in The Obsidian Circle. I didn’t stand for what they stood for. That was always more Kael’s thing.” He slowly paces back and forth in front of me, making it clear that he doesn’t see me as a threat, and I’m more than happy to be underestimated. Unfortunately, I can’t deny that his story has piqued my curiosity.
“Kael is nothing like them,” I snap, and he hums while I peer around the familiar space of his office, a place I had hoped to never return to.
“Do you know how they came up with the name? The Obsidian Circle, I mean.” He blinks at me expectantly, and I shake my head. “An obsidian circle is meant to be a powerful protective tool, forged from volcanic glass, with the ability to absorb negative energy, promote emotional balance, and block psychic attacks.” He stares at me as I absorb his words, but I don’t respond since it doesn’t soundlike he’s actually getting to the point. It’s no surprise that he takes my silence as encouragement to continue. “That’s what they wanted to embody, a collective of members intent on ensuring negative energy couldn’t take root, that encouraged those nearby to be calm and collected, within themselves and with one another, while ensuring their minds were not only clear, but protected from attack.”
“That’s a great story and all, but… I’m missing the point,” I grumble as he turns his back to me, staring past his desk and chair to look through the window that offers nothing but a bleak glimpse into his sad little world.
“The point, Little Weapon, is that my parents wanted to block what they liked to call psychic attacks, except, it wasn’t only their thoughts they were concerned about, it was their powers. Now, who might they have been plotting against?”
Understanding washes over me. “Scythes.”
