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“And what is your primary sin, Mr. Dawson?”
From across the room his silver eyes collided with hers. Then he answered: “Wrath.”
Mira swallowed.
“Very good,” Obryn answered. “Dark Magic is all about how you harness and balance your powers. Depending on your personal signifiers, the answer may be different. Mr. Dawson, would you be so kind as to demonstrate?”
Demonstrate? Mira’s mouth hung slack as she watched him walk to the cage without hesitation.
Mira reached for Amelia’s sleeve. “He…he’s not going to fight it, is he?”
The Wielder girl smirked. “What do you think?”
Dawson stood in front of the cage and waited for the teaching assistant to unlock it. The Feeder, still restrained, yanked against its chains. It screamed so loud, Mira and several other students covered their ears.
But Dawson remained stoic, with his hands clasped behind his back. He strolled into the cage, and the assistant locked the door behind him. The Feeder tried to get close, swinging its claws at the Wielder.
Students stepped toward the cage to get a better look, and Mira felt like she was going to be sick. Dawson was experienced, but one wrong move and he could die.
Obryn stood next to the cage and pulled out a stopwatch. Dawson took a wider stance, readying himself. Mira’s hands trembled and her heart pounded in her chest. The Feeder looked more rabid by the minute. The demons were able to smell an opponent’s power in their blood. Surely this one was eager to sink its teeth into the Dawson heir.
As if to tease it, Dawson took two steps forward.
“I can’t watch,” Mira whispered to Amelia, but kept her eyes trained on the cage.
She chuckled. “He’s going to be fine.”
From outside the cage, the teaching assistant unlocked the chains and the demon opened its jaw wide, baring its long teeth. It lunged forward, but Dawson was faster. He barely lifted his right hand, and black shards shot from his hand, slicing through the Feeder’s mouth and out the back of its skull.
Mira had never seen anyone cast deadly spells so efficiently. Quietly. Elegantly.
The demon was mid-air when the spell hit, and it collapsed to the ground, lying in a pool of its own black blood.
“Just over two seconds,” Obryn announced. “And with very little powers used. This was an excellent example of how to ration your powers and use them efficiently.”
Obryn talked about developing combat strategies while Dawson was let out of the cage. He walked back to Evren and Harrington, who patted him on the back.
When the class was dismissed, Dawson left by himself and Mira followed. He had walked across the courtyard when she finally caught up with him. She noticed small black dots of Feeder blood on his neck.
“I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have pushed for an answer. If I’d known what it was about, I wouldn’t have,” she said quickly, in one breath, before he could storm off.
He continued to walk and she wondered if he had a silencing spell around him, unable to hear her.
“Obryn says there is no way to destroy the amulet, but I’m going to see if—”
But he did hear her because he came to an abrupt halt. “Did I ask for your help?”
“No, but—”
He stepped closer, and the coldness of his stare made a shudder go down her spine. Giving up a secret was difficult enough for Dawson, but this one in particular had been precious to him. A line had been crossed. “Precisely. I told you before I don’t want or need your help. Do you need it in writing, Winters?” He snarled her name.
She shook her head and opened her mouth, but he cut her off before she could speak.
“Do you think you can hide your failure to remove your scar by finding another pet project? Something else to fix since you can’t seem to fix yourself?”
Nobody had ever been able to hurt her as effectively as he did. His words cut straight through her. He knew too much about her—just like she knew too much about him.
Thunder rolled in the distance, and when she stared up into his eyes, they were the same color as the lightning strikes behind him, slicing through the dark cloud cover. A bright gray. Cold and angry.
