Of Bone and Ash (Silverwood University Book 1)

35. Serafina

THIRTY-FIVE

Screams fill the air as I run through the courtyard, my eyes locked on the glimmering blue shield my brother has thrown up around the school. Closing my eyes, I let my magic, which has been pressing against my mental barriers, flood to the surface, welcoming the cold magic with a shiver of excitement. Just as I’m closing in on the blue shield, hand outstretched to let Atlas know I want through, an angry voice stops me, making me skid to a stop.

“Don”t you fucking dare,” Amell snaps, appearing out of thin air, his glamour fully intact as he crosses his arms over his chest, the weird golden brown color of his hair making him look pale now that I know what he actually looks like. His odd eyes lock on mine, refusing to look away as I turn to face him, curious as to why he thinks he can tell me what to do.

“Don’t what?” I ask, crossing my arms and matching his stance, not liking how he’s looking down his nose at me.

“Don’t go through that shield. Students are to go to their dorms and wait for the bells to chime three times before they can resume normal campus life,” he instructs in full professor mode. His pristine white button-down shirt looks perfectly pressed, his tan pants appearing as if they were made for him and him alone. The pale green tie that is elaborately knotted complements his eyes, and even his weird hair looks like it”s frozen in place. There’s not a thing out of place on the man, and I have the sudden urge to jump forward and tussle his hair just to see if his head will implode if I ruin his perfect appearance.

I almost laugh at that idea, knowing that it”s not something I’d normally do. I think I’ve been hanging around Teos too much, and it”s only been a week. But honestly, it”s really disappointing that such a handsome face is ruined by such an awful personality.

“You would be the one to tell me to sit by and watch people die,” I scoff, rolling my eyes as I turn away from him. “It”s funny when the Reaper, the person meant to kill and destroy every good thing they touch, is the one wanting to help, and the Angel,” I give him a hard side-eye, hoping he can hear the disdain I feel in my voice. “Is the one sitting around with his thumb shoved up his ass when he’s the one who has the correct magic to handle the issue,” I gesture to the blue shield in front of me. “Maybe something you should look into during your weekly therapy sessions.”

Amell’s emotionless face twitches as he looks at me. “I don’t go to therapy,” he mutters, a sneer tugging on his lips as if the idea itself is outlandish.

“And that”s your number one problem. Angels are so fucked in the head. It’s taken my uncle years of being out of the Vatican”s control to be semi-normal. And he was already a genuinely good person. You’re fucked,” I say with fake sympathy, walking over to Atlas’ shields and pressing my palms against the cold, glowing blue light.

“I can”t intervene. Even if I wanted to, Serafina. I am bound to the Vatican and its laws,” Amell grinds out, a flicker of actual emotion flaring to life in his cold eyes.

“Demons are attacking! They are not to be in this territory, yet you do nothing!” I snap back, pressing my hands hard against Atlas’ shields, mentally seeking him out. “The Vatican”s laws are fucked up, and so is anyone who follows them,” I snarl back, closing my eyes as I feel Atlas, his magic swirling in angry motions. I raise a brow, not used to feeling my brother”s anger. Someone has royally pissed him off, and I feel bad for the fucker. I may be a Reaper, but I never want to be on Atlas’ bad side. He may seem sweet and put together, but he has a side to him that is so dark my magic gets excited. Which, by the way, isn’t a good thing. I feel his hesitancy to let me through, his silly brotherly need to keep me safe, so I add a spark of my own magic to hurry him along, smiling when I feel his magic reluctantly give under my hands.

“I said no,” Amell snaps, stepping closer, hands sparking with gold magic. I laugh and look over my shoulder at him.

“Are you going to stop me?” I ask, amused and slightly hopeful. My magic is itching for a fight with violence so close. It’s begging for release. I would love nothing more than to know if I have the ability to put this cocky professor on his ass.

“I will if you force my hand. You are a student here, Serafina. You must abide by all the rules?—”

“Rules are made to be broken.” I cut him off, making the small vein on his forehead throb at my interruption. Something I take great delight in. “And I’m as much a student here as you are a professor. We both have our roles. Stick to yours, Ambrose,” I sneer, pushing through the blue shield when I realize he’s simply wasting my time. But before I can fully enter the chaos, Atlas is attempting to keep separated from the school, a hot lash of pain races up my arm as a golden rope curls itself around my wrist.

I gasp in shock, and the purest form of Angelic magic radiates from the rope and into me as I’m tugged harshly off my feet and away from the blue shield, landing hard on my ass on the frozen grass. It takes a second for me to process what the hell just happened before I slowly glare up at the Angel who still holds the rope wound too tightly around my wrist.

“I said no,” he murmurs, his voice so soft it would almost be an apology if it weren’t for the unrepentant look on his face. “Go back to your apartment, Serafina.”

There is a burst of magic around us, and I’m pretty sure he just attempted to cast a spell on me. I wait for a moment, feeling not my Reaper magic but my Demonic magic rear up, sheltering me enough to block whatever spell the Angel just shot at me before sinking back down. I stroke it in awe, loving how tame it”s been since running into Darius. Am I concerned that it suddenly changed on me… yes. One hundred percent. But you can”t imagine the relief I finally feel from not fighting it on a daily basis.

“Pretty sure I warned you two times not to touch me,” I whisper as I press to my feet, my magic rolling off me in happy waves, flooding the ground and chilling the air, making the frost thicken and turn to solid ice beneath my bare toes. I can feel my Demonic magic perking up, awaiting my call as the void of death magic curls around me, my cloak shimmering to life over my shoulders, my cheekbones sharpening to the monstrous mask of my true form. My fingers itch for my sword or scythe, but I hold it at bay as I stand, glaring at the Angel before me and then down to the shining gold rope burning my wrist.

A puzzled look crosses Amell”s face as he tilts his head, regarding me with new interest.

“Where the hell are you getting this power boost?” he asks, his magic prodding me, looking, always fucking looking for what”s deeper.

Don”t, my mind whispers while my magic grows. Then let”s show him, a darker voice murmurs from the depth of my being, the cold, oily blue magic spiraling inside me like a whirlwind. A smile I don’t control graces my face as I stare down this Angel, and then I move, flipping my wrist that is currently bound by his ropes and snagging the rope in my hand.

“How about I show you?” I rasp, my voice deep—too deep for my liking, but hell, my magic is having so much fun, and who am I to tell it no when it’s being so helpful? Oily-blue magic crawls from my fingertips, the thick, dark magic inching over the hot brand of the rope, cooling it in an instant. Amell’s eyes widen in horror, his face paling of all color as I push more Demonic magic at him.

“No,” he whispers, fear, disgust, and sorrow running over his face in a play of emotion as his bright rope slowly dims. The further my magic crawls, the harder it is to control it. I feel Amell”s magic pressing more firmly to mine, attacking the Demonic magic on instinct and making the man grunt and stumble back a few steps.

“Serafina! Let go! It will kill one of us otherwise,” he warns as my magic stops meeting his half way just as the glow of our magic intensifies. “Serafina!” Amell shouts, and sweat dots my brow. My arm trembles, and my knees feel weak as the Demonic magic suddenly starts pulling on my Reaper’s reserves.

I gasp, my lungs suddenly feeling heavy as my magic flares even brighter! Oh shit. Okay, note to self, don’t play with your newly calmed Demonic magic with an Angel without testing it out a little first.

“Serafina! I can’t release my magic until you have yours under control,” he snaps as his magic brightens, his glamour fading as gold armor wraps up and around his biceps. Bright white feathered wings materialize from his shoulder blades, gleaming like pearls in the blue glow of Atlas’ shield. His golden hair lengthens a little as swirling liquid gold tattoos curl over his skin, wrapping over his wrists and up his neck as he strains to control his magic.

Shit. I’m not sure who’s about to win this fight. But it looks like we might both be losers here in a moment, considering how pale Amell is. Taking hold of the oily blue magic, I coax it back, beckoning it to me, and watch in great delight as it stills then moves just the slightest bit back in my direction. I sigh in relief, knowing that I still have control of it as I instruct it to release my Reaper”s magic.

After a moment, it does as I ask just as Amell curses and drops the rope, my magic retreating enough for him to pull his back. The golden magic shatters into a million shards that erupt into the air, allowing my Demonic magic to spiral in the air, darkening his glow in seconds before I reach a hand out, palm up, and call it to me. It comes, listening to me like we’ve done this for years. I smile, watching the magic seeping into my skin where it fades and sinks down, lying dormant for whenever I need it next.

Looking back up, I watch from the depths of my hood as Amell stands straight. “If you’re so desperate to play with Demonic magic, I know some that actually want to hurt people. But if you’re going to sit here and be useless, then go, Amell. No one wants or needs you here. I’m pretty sure the feathered pricks you work for don”t want you watching over us lowly peasants while we die. Go to your ivory tower and wait like a good little Angel,” I snap at him, pivoting on my heels and rushing through Atlas’ shield, stepping straight into a battle from Hell.