Hellfire (Nightfire Academy #4)

Chapter 25 - Blaze

CHAPTER 25 - BLAZE

C rowds gathered at the entrance, funneling through the gates, getting searched by security wielding metal detector wands. Handlers guided sniffer dogs along the queues of patrons, searching for illicit drugs. Attendees didn’t seem bothered by the action and chatted in line. The air cloyed with competing perfumes and colognes, and I thirsted to have my power back to cart it away with a breeze.

Clenched muscles in my chest hampered my breathing, and I rubbed at my pecs. Shadows darted about the faces of queued music fans. My eyes darted, searching for spectres amid the crowd.

A bunch of boozed-up tossers hollered as they poured into the festival’s grounds, setting off my internal alarms. Sweat misted the back of my neck. My palms turned clammy, moistening Luna’s hand, and she glanced up at me and stroked my stomach. Gable’s breathing technique wore off once we hit Sydney, and the number of people and opportunities for danger surged.

The sniffer dogs barked, and I crushed Luna’s hand.

She reflexively twitched and glanced up at me. “Everything okay?”

“Fine, sweetness.” I didn’t want to ruin her weekend by worrying about me.

I’d get through it somehow. Just like I got through my first to Gable’s place and my second. Or our trip to visit my folks for breakfast. Or to pick up my sister from the train station when she was in town for the weekend. I could do this. I would do this. Camus stole my powers from me, Nelle my sense of safety, and I wouldn’t let them take my sanity as well.

Luna shifted to stand behind me, her arms coming around me, hugging me, pressing her nose into my back and humming some song, the sound soothing.

“You good or need a minute?” Gable came to my rescue again.

The first time he talked me through a panic spiral surprised me when Venellan, Talon, and Cole dealt with my nerves by distracting me with investigations and teaching duties.

We all had different coping mechanisms, according to the Academy psychologist. Some put their trauma out of their mind and tried their best not to think about it. Others hid away from the world, too scared to enter it and be abused again, me included to an extent. Those brave enough to confront their shit faced it head-on.

“All good," I admitted, submitting to a security check, the stout male patting me over for concealed weapons.

When we got in the gate, I reclaimed my bonded’s hand, keeping her close to me, her presence, scent, and voice bringing my anxiety down.

Gable pulled me aside before we got going, and said, “I was just as jumpy when I escaped the big B.” Our code word for the Brotherhood when out in public. “It’s not a weakness.” The guy was observant, abnormally so. Read a person like one of his magick grimoires.

Our shared bond of trauma at the hands of the Brotherhood was one more thing we had in common on a growing list of commonalities beyond Luna. We both dabbled with playing guitar, enjoyed breaking the rules, and were inducted into the world of magick young, only on opposing sides.

“I appreciate you checking in on me, brother.” I squeezed his shoulder, and he reciprocated my smile.

Luna patted both our shoulders and beamed, pleased at Gable looking out for me, and me for giving him a second chance.

We grabbed an itinerary for the bands appearing on stage and moved deeper into the crowd to position ourselves on the hill overlooking the festivities. Lights, speakers, and decorations adorned the stage.

“The Killers are playing?” Luna’s hands covered her mouth at finding out her favorite band played at the festival. “This is the best surprise! Thank you!” She threw herself at us one by one and received a chorus of “you’re welcomes” or “we thought you’d love it.”

A dull ache started in my head, my ears ringing with static, eclipsing the crowd’s murmur. The tempo and intensity picked up as the grounds filled with more music fans. The skin on my forearm burned as if someone flicked ash on me. Shadows began to buzz and vibrate on stage and in the crowd.

Come to me, little snake, a demonic voice rose from the darkness of my subconscious, where the Jackals’ enforcer buried it during his cleanse.

No. No. No. The voices weren’t real. They were just figments of my imagination. Representations of my fear, according to the psychologist.

Then the voice came. Louder, determined, smug, and scorning. That is no way to address your new master, little snake.

I fisted my shirt. “I can’t breathe.”

Gable rested a light palm on my shoulder. “Hey, look at me, Hotshot.”

I couldn’t meet his gaze. What if mine were filled with snake slits, and they dragged me out of here and carted me back home? I wasn’t ruining my bonded’s second trip away from the Academy.

“I’ve got something that might help calm your nervous system down.” Gable turned his body toward mine.

My nervous system wasn’t the problem. I was going crazy. Or fucking possessed.

Gable pointed his finger in front of my face, and I blinked. “Track this everywhere it moves.”

I did as he said, following his finger, right, then left, up and to the right, down and on we went in a box shape seven times. Deviating from the pattern, he moved his fingers in random patterns, circles, six-pointed stars, and triangles. Anxiety released its death grip on my chest and allowed me to breathe as I focused on the motion and Luna’s soft strokes of my stomach.

Of all the people in the world, I never expected Gable to come to my rescue. Never expected him to show me an ounce of kindness after the way I ruthlessly rejected every offer to partner up and deal with Brotherhood threats.

“How does that feel?” Gable dropped his finger.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and scanned my surroundings. Faces within the crowd no longer oscillated like specters and the shadows on stage were formed by the awnings.

“Better,” I replied.

“Any time your anxiety creeps up on you, just tap me on the shoulder, brother.” I trusted Gable was as good as his word.

Luna gave him a tight squeeze of thanks.

Talon and Cole sipped at their beers and clapped their new brother.

The crowd erupted with cheers as the members of the band, The Killers , strode out onto the stage, waving to the fans. Music kicked up the energy, and the crowd surged to the tune of Mr. Brightside .

My bonded looked like she had a blast, waving her hands in the air, cheering, singing along, bopping her head, smiling at us all so lovingly, I didn't miss my sacred flame one bit.

Talon stood behind her, sliding his hand down her dress, kneading her breast, and she closed her eyes and leaned into him, enjoying the rhythm. Gable moved aside to let Cole sandwich her on the other side, sliding his hand up her dress, fingering her through Sam’s Town . She came as the finale crashed and slumped against their bodies.

The five of us rocked to the music, taking turns holding our princess, standing behind her, rubbing her shoulders, and pleasuring her. At one point, Talon lifted her up onto his shoulders, giving her better view of the crowd and her favorite band performing.

The strangling sensation in my skull returned. Claws scratched at my brain. The pits of hell burned inside me.

I am weakening, little snake, his voice came again. Come to me, I need your help.

“No.” I groaned.

I have no time for games. The sound of snakes hissed louder and closer as if they writhed on my shoulders.

I wanted to scream at the dark throbbing on my skin. Better yet, get a hammer and smash my forearm until I obliterated the snake brand on me, ridding me of his voice and connection to tap into me.

The markings on my arm burned darker and colder. The Dark Lord assumed charge of my body, trapping me behind his dark barrier. I slammed against it, and it rattled in my head. My legs pumped with an icy fire as I marched away from the concert to the bathrooms.

Gable jogged to catch up to me. “You okay, Hotshot?”

“Bathroom calls,” Camus forced me to reply.

“I’ll come with you,” Gable insisted on sticking close.

I shoved my way to the head of the queue to the protest of some drunk dick and locked myself in a cubicle. Camus prompted me to split the Veil and transport back to the Academy.

Get me my granddaughter’s mind scroll, he commanded, and I obeyed, helpless to assume control.

Fuck. He saw and heard everything I did. All this time, he’d been biding his time, observing, waiting until the right moment to pounce.

I made my way to the magical trove, where the Guild kept important parchments, books and objects, reserved for Gildrons only. The winding stone halls were predominantly empty since the Guildlings left for the weekend.

I passed Astra on my way to the magical trove, clutching a stack of books to her chest the way she did when on her way back from a study session in the library.

“Hey, Blaze,” she greeted with a friendly smile.

Astra. Help. Get Venellan! I screamed to no avail.

On second thought, Camus started. Get my dear Luna’s friend to assist you. We love plausible deniability. His cruel laugh thumped in my mind.

I retreated after her and seized her by the arm.

“Hey! Let go,” she said.

Camus explained why I needed her help, and she agreed without question to help her best friend.

Stupid fool. Camus’ laugh made me shrink.

I gained us both access to the restricted section by evoking the spell to release the one protecting the trove. I waited outside while Camus’ unsuspecting victim hunted inside for his prize and delivered it on a platter to me.

“Get out of here,” I ordered her.

She glared at me and went to argue.

Camus wasn’t having it and barked, “Leave now. Get out of my sight!”

“Last time I help you, grouchy.” She stalked away.

Frost cracked over my heart as my darkness dragged me into its depths.

I’m so fucking sorry, Astra, I whispered, but she couldn’t hear me where I was locked away. Forgive me, Luna.

Camus’ laugh mocked me as his grip on me faded away, taking the memory of what I did with him, leaving me with darkness, pain, and disorientation. I came to, gasping, huddled in the corner of the bathroom stall. The snake branding on my forearm burned ice cold, and I rubbed the bite of it. Piss tinkled in bowls, urinals flushed, guys sniffed and grunted. What the hell was I doing here? I didn’t remember how or why I came to be here or what I was doing. My memory was a numb block of ice.

Gable banged on my cubicle door, and I jolted upright. “You all right in there, Hotshot?”

I disengaged the lock and opened the door, hoping he might have some answers. His confused face mirrored my own.

“You were in there a long time.” Gable curled an arm over me and dragged me out. “Did you black out?”

I rubbed at my throbbing head, trying to piece together the last five minutes, but everything was barren and black. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe this is too much for you.” Gable rubbed my shoulder. “I should take you back to the hotel for a rest.”

I didn’t say a thing. Didn’t know what happened.

He directed us out of the portable bathroom stalls, back to our group, lifting a bottle of water from the ground and handing it to me. “Drink this.”

I swallowed the tepid liquid down, and it coated my parched throat.

“I’m gonna take Hotshot back to the hotel,” Gable informed the group in between songs.

“Why?” Talon got to the quizzing.

Luna’s palms hit my biceps and squeezed. “Are you okay?”

“I’ve got a headache, but I’ll be okay,” I answered them both. “Watch the show, sweetness.”

I didn’t know if I’d last that long. The ache in my head turned into a thick, dazed fog. Sleep might clear it away. I didn’t want to leave. My bonded was enjoying herself, and the instinctual need in my chest said to stay with her.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Gable countered.

“Skip out if you’re not feeling well.” Cole patted me on the shoulder.

The noise merged into one note, dull and flat.

“How about we give him five minutes and if he’s not better, then we’re leave?” Luna suggested.

Good idea. The daze would probably clear, and I could enjoy the rest of the festival. I put away the rest of the water and held onto the bottle, tapping it on my thigh as Brandon Flowers jumped into the song, Spaceman .

The more the song progressed, I had an urgent, sharp sensation in my gut that I’d done something horrible and unforgiving that would change the course of everything.