4. Chapter 4
Chapter 4
S everal cuts ripped through Malis’s chest in quick succession. In the darkness, Imani had no idea what spell she had cast. Her magic was alive and acting on its own instinct to protect her, but she pulled it back somehow.
The fire roared back to life. Blood seeped through his linen shirt in streaks. Strange whispers encircled her like ghosts. A tremor in her muscles clambered to dominate and destroy him, and she would let it. But Malis needed to answer her question before she did.
“What breed are you?” she repeated, putting as much power in her voice as possible, hoping the wounds would cow him into answering.
“One I’m certain you’ve never heard of but will haunt your nightmares. My kind isn’t known for our restraint.” His throat made the same abnormal noise, and he spoke to her in modulated tones, worse than before.
Imani tried to cast an enchantment to take his voice away but was caught in the web of his magic, and his transfixing spell overpowered hers. If she’d been able to look him in the eye, she could possibly have used her own compulsion to overpower him, but she’d never used it on purpose before and was unpracticed.
Her wand arm shook as dark eyes stared at her like pits in the Under realm.
“Stop moving.”
Imani’s body stilled.
He clicked his tongue. “Like last time, lovely Imani, you’re under my spell.” Glamour magic layered his voice. “Down on your knees, elf witch.”
Her legs bowed as her mind shouted, Wrong, wrong, wrong .
His eyes glazed over. She wished more than anything that she had either used her soul draw or hidden it with an illusion, because her elf magic surged, pulling him under its spell. Soon, the soul draw would drive him to madness, wanting her to feed from him.
Female elves without magic at their fingertips were diminutive and easily overpowered, violence forcing them to feed from their attackers. She had been reckless in letting it roam free tonight.
Fear speared her chest. She panted, imagining herself in the shop with him again as her repulsion and urge to fight back had spiked. He had forced her to look at him the entire time. Over and over and over, he had slammed into her until she had turned herself into nothing but a shell. Other breeds might use physical force, but he had used his compulsion to force her to feed, and she had even less choice in the matter.
Mercifully, her mind had shut down, consciousness somewhere else until Aralana had hexed him with something dark, breaking the compulsion magic. Now, Imani spiraled into a pit of helplessness again. Like last time, like ?—
No, not like last time. Imani lived in a new world now. Her grandmother was dead, and magic rippled through her veins. It permeated her muscles and, unlike her soul draw, he didn’t control her thoughts, only her body.
She threw all her mental awareness into survival.
Malis’s hand snaked down her neck and caressed her breast. Imani’s stomach clenched, and she tried to gag. She wanted to slip into the unknown, the void of nothing, leaving her with nothing, but tonight, she was stuck in brutal awareness.
Stifling a cry from deep within her chest, she continued screaming inside her head, begging her magic for help, although she didn’t know what to command it to do.
Soft murmuring voices swirled around her awareness, but nothing happened. Still, she screamed.
Grinning maniacally over her, Malis looked like a terrifying conqueror surveying his spoils. “Look up at me,” he said.
Her head snapped up as he ordered. He took her chin with his rough hand.
Imani screamed louder in her head. The whispers were now a dull roar in the recesses of her mind, something still untouched by Malis’s spell. A thin tendril of darkness spread from the tip of her wand on its own, crawling and spreading from her arm and across the floor like inky fog.
“Years ago, Aralana asked for my help with flesh magic for two powerful spells.” He leaned closer. “Do you know who she wanted it for?”
Imani tried to glare but still couldn’t.
Malis smiled. “She wanted it for her high-bred granddaughter. Even as a child, people had considered the girl particularly striking for a Norn. Rich with the magic of your kind and outside the Draswood, she would be in terrible danger without a heartmate, or the impenetrable spell flesh magic glamour could give her when she came of age.”
He stroked Imani’s hair softly. Her chest constricted as she struggled to breathe. At least he was letting her breathe.
“While rare outside of the Draswood, thousands of high-bred female Norn are in Vathis. I never believed one was important enough to cast such powerful flesh magic spells, but she didn’t exaggerate. Even with half your face ruined, you’re such a remarkable representation of your breed. Perfect, really. And I must agree with her now. It was worth killing the hob to cast the magic.”
Every person—except the hobgoblins—came into the Mesial Realm with a sigil already branded on them and a mark around it denoting the child a high-bred, common-bred, or low-bred version of their breed. High-breds were superior to others in their looks, magic, or natural talents. The closest a person could get to the definitive version of the breed was to have all three.
She almost threw up hearing the truth about Riona, their previous collector. Despite being a hobgoblin, Riona had been Imani’s best friend, outside Meira. Imani had always suspected flesh magic was involved in her death, but it was still unfathomable Riona had sacrificed her whole body for a spell to hide Imani’s magic.
She would never forgive Ara. Not that the old nymph even wanted forgiveness.
“Your grandmother kept your glamour locked up tight yet, for one day, you went without it around your face and soul draw—the only pieces she left untouched by the flesh magic spell—and I wonder why.” Malis traced his finger down her arm. “Although, I suppose it doesn’t matter. I know you provide services to several others in town.”
It was true. She did. Calling it prostitution would have been accurate, but Imani never considered it that way. It didn’t start as a conscious decision to service people, but rather, on a whim one night when she had stayed to catch up with a customer after delivering several spells.
“There’s nothing quite like sex while a female elf feeds on you. The bliss is unexplainable. Especially a High-Norn elf like you. I will have you feed from me again before I kill you, Imani … The last time in the shop was such ecstasy.”
Out of the corner of her vision, a menacing darkness curled around the room’s edges. The air thickened with the smell of smoke as her magic built in the background. Imani had no idea what type of magic was brewing. The shadows appeared to be an enchantment of some kind, but enchantments required incantations and wands as a medium. Still, stronger spells overpowered weaker ones. Master witches could sense and strip away weaker illusion magic. The Norn elves’ Draswood wands dominated any others.
“Stop this spell,” Malis said, compulsion magic dripping from his voice. “I command you.”
Imani couldn’t stop. It was her fear, not words, chants, or the usual methods, which fueled the spell. His attack had no power over her emotions and thoughts.
Not even a second later, the dark swaths of shade dove at him like bats attacking prey. Massive black welts formed after slamming into his body, along with nasty purple and blue bruises. Internal bleeding, maybe?
Stumbling back, he swiped his wand overhead and growled, shouting in a language she didn’t understand. His spell broke at the sound. Victory sparkled in her eyes, and a feline grin slowly spread across her face. The shadows retreated to encase her like a halo.
Imani tsked. “Those look painful, Malis.”
“Nothing in this world can fight my magic.”
“It seems something can,” she said. “Such fascinating magic you have. I’d?—”
“There is nothing!” he bellowed, arching his hand over his head. A whip of flames emerged from his wand.
Heat like her grandmother’s pyre blasted her, slamming her back against the wall. She gasped as the skin on her arm seared from the burn.
A rare ability. Imani didn’t think anyone in Essenheim practiced such atrophic magic, but she’d heard fire magic was common in Niflheim.
Screaming escaped her throat as she willed herself to be invisible and hit him back with more magic, flying around the room to avoid his flames. She didn’t know what power poured out of her, but she acted instinctually and hit him with everything she could.
Papers on Malis’s desk and the corner chair caught fire as they were swept up in the deadly dance Imani and Malis were locked in. Imani barely noticed as her body became shadows, moving and dodging fast. The adrenaline intoxicated her. Power rippled off her. The challenging magic he threw at her only fed her untamed fury.
A moment of weakness opened. Imani threw her weight into a wide hook and punched Malis hard in the jaw.
Fuck, his face hurt her fist. She fought through the pain as she pulled out the knife she kept strapped to her thigh.
The punch merely stunned him. He wasn’t the biggest she’d subdued, not even close, but the man was still massive compared to her. The jarring contact caught him off guard enough to give Imani the upper hand. She ducked behind him, jumped on his back, and choked him. The move cut his airflow, strangling him.
She clamped her body around Malis, struggling for control as they wrestled. They pushed each to the limit, but Imani was desperate and knew more tricks. She growled, slid the knife across his neck, and then let go.
Blood spurted out. She missed the artery, but the cut was a good one. He would die slowly over the next few minutes.
A strange sensation took root low in her stomach. Heavy and coiled like a barbed knot of thorns, it bloomed through Imani’s body until it reached her lips. The corner of her mouth twitched into a smile—into a cruel thrill, knowing the man responsible for her tears was paying his dues.
Circling him, she let his blood drip onto the floor and pointed the wand at his neck. “How perfect you look down there,” she said with a maniacal grin. “Now tell me: what breed are you?”