CHAPTER 10
I wasn’t actually a ghost.
If someone kicked me right now, I’d feel it, and so would they.
Magic had its limitations, at least on the mortal plane.
Since my body was made of flesh, I couldn’t just dissolve it into nothing.
But I could hide it without uttering a spell, using the power of darkness to fool the naked eye into thinking I’d disappeared—similar to how human magicians used pyrotechnics and mirrors.
Gran had taught me how to do it a few years ago, making me practice the technique over and over until I could practically do it in my sleep. Which was probably why I’d done it even without meaning to.
Knowing that the illusion was strongest away from open spaces, I silently carried my shadow self toward a particularly dark spot along the arena’s perimeter where the fire from the lit sconces barely touched.
I didn’t float above the ground like a wraith, but with my senses dulled to the world around me, I could fully concentrate on moving with stealth.
Within seconds, I reached my destination.
My conjured shadows perfectly melted into the naturally dark spot, allowing me to breathe easier now that I was out of the limelight.
From my position, I could clearly see the reactions to my sudden disappearance.
Faces were slack-jawed, gaping at the arena’s empty center.
Even Professor Seacrest looked baffled, his brow pinched as he searched for his missing student.
Certain my little trick had mystified Thorne as well, I looked his way, only to find him already staring at my dark hiding spot.
My mouth slowly fell open. How the hell did he know I was here?
Despite my rather impressive yet unintentional demonstration, his expression hadn’t changed. If anything, his mood seemed to have darkened more. Sheesh. Did nothing impress this guy? Not that I was trying to impress him, but still.
“Time, Miss Mayweather,” the professor said, still searching for me.
Knowing I couldn’t hide forever, I reluctantly loosened my grip on the shadows.
As they fell away, my senses fully switched back on.
The abrupt change was overwhelming, and I swayed, catching myself with a hand on the wall to orientate myself.
Dragging in a deep breath to chase the spots from my vision, I straightened and stepped from the shadows.
Some of the students’ eyes widened when they spotted me, and Professor Seacrest whirled around to find me approaching from behind.
I hid my trembling hands in the pleats of my skirt, not wanting everyone to see just how much that little stunt had drained me.
It had been years since I’d done anything like that, years since I’d lost my grip on the darkness in a way that allowed others to see it.
I hadn’t meant to let it out, but I’d wanted to disappear so badly, so I’d just . . . I’d slipped. At least no one had been hurt, thank the ancestors. Even so, that stunt had been stupidly reckless. I couldn’t slip like that again.
Clearing his throat, the professor carefully schooled his expression before saying, “Not bad, Miss Mayweather. Shadewalking is an advanced skill for a Darken. You may take your seat.”
Wow, was that an actual compliment? Maybe so, but it was a begrudging one. He might have been impressed, but he didn’t want to be.
As I finished crossing the arena and sat down, I felt way too seen. Absolutely everyone was staring at me, their expressions ranging from jealousy to wary curiosity. Dare I hope that my unplanned demonstration had sparked some begrudging admiration in the students as well?
“Many of you show promise,” Professor Seacrest began, thankfully drawing the students’ attention back to him, “but most of you lack stamina and control. To become truly one with your affinity, you’ll have to dig deeper.
Far deeper. Mr. Hudson has graciously agreed to demonstrate what that looks like.
For those who don’t know, our Head Prefect is a Cosmic with a rare ability to manipulate storm matter using the energy of the universe.
When it comes to mastering magic, none can compete with him, not even me. Mr. Hudson, the floor is yours.”
When Thorne finally peeled himself off the wall and stepped forward, most of the students started to clap.
Not only were they excited to see the Head Prefect in action, they most definitely wanted to earn some brownie points by showing their support.
I didn’t join in, my nerves returning with a vengeance now that he was about to unleash his magic.
I’d only seen it once before, but I’d hoped to never see it again.
The horror, the terror I’d felt as he’d gathered that raw power, that vast might, and directed it all toward me.
“I’ll kill you!”
His promise from that fateful day sliced through my mind as he stalked toward the arena’s center, removing his blazer and tie as he did.
When he didn’t stop there, when he started to remove his white shirt as well, the clapping dissolved into hoots and hollers.
The girls went crazy, jumping up from their seats to cheer him on.
Without my permission, my eyes followed his fingers while they deftly unbuttoned the shirt and tugged it from his pants.
The shirt opened, and I tried to look away, to stop my gaze from roving over the broad expanse of tanned skin on display.
But I couldn’t.
There were so many muscles, so many tattoos.
He shrugged the shirt off, giving me an unobstructed view of his entire upper half, and I drank it all in like a parched desert nomad.
Tattooed wings resembling a hawk spanned his whole chest, making the impressive width seem even broader.
There wasn’t any ink on his stomach, but the defined six pack stamped there was plenty intriguing to look at.
And then there were his arms. Thoroughly muscled, veined, and completely covered in ink. The dark tattoos looked like a violent network of lightning bolts, starting at the top of his neck and streaking all the way down to the tips of his fingers.
I didn’t know how long I stared at him, but when I finally managed to drag my eyes to his face, I found him watching me.
Ancestors save me, what did I just do? Intense heat blasted my cheeks, embarrassment making me want to shadewalk into a dark corner again. Better yet, out of this room.
I didn’t move a muscle, didn’t even breathe, too busy pretending like I wasn’t mortified that he’d just caught me ogling his chest. And stomach.
And arms. Good grief, why did he have to be so breathtaking?
It would be so much easier to despise him and his cold personality if he didn’t look like Zeus.
Without taking his eyes off me, Thorne levitated his clothing toward the theatre seats and neatly set them down. A muscle feathered in his jaw as our gazes held, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking about killing me right now.
He’d promised to, and I’d believed him. Almost two years later, I still did. A pactum wouldn’t stop him. He’d find a way to finish me off somehow.
His chest expanded, then he abruptly looked away and swept those intense blue eyes over his audience before saying, “When I start, don’t move. And whatever you do, don’t try to interact with my magic.”
Or you’ll die, he might as well have added.
Everyone sank back to their seats, their attention riveted on him like insects to a bug zapper. If only they knew how deadly his magic was. They wouldn’t be leaning forward in their seats, that was for sure.
Silence descended, everyone anticipating what Thorne would do.
Everyone but me. I dreaded it, wishing I could be anywhere but here.
What if he slipped? What if he “accidentally” lost control, and I just happened to be in the way?
Would the pactum consider my death unintentional and dissipate our oath?
Thinking of the amulet around my neck, praying it would protect me, I watched Thorne widen his stance and close his eyes, his body loose yet balanced in preparation for what was to come.
Nothing happened right away. Not even his hands lit up with magic.
The silence became weighted as he stood perfectly still, looking for all the world like a frozen statue.
It was the slight shift in the air that warned me.
The sharp scent of an impending weather change, a violent one.
Something flashed in the sky above the dome, followed closely by a loud boom.
As the sound vibrated our bones, we all looked up to see a powerful storm brewing outside.
Rain pounded on the dome, but the invisible shield kept the storm at bay.
The storm that Thorne had called.
I glanced at him again to see that his hands were now halfway raised, electric blue magic dancing over his fingers.
The lines of his body were taut, making his muscles stand out in sharp relief.
I nervously clamped my hands together as he strained.
No, pulled. Not visibly, but I could sense he was willing something toward himself. Calling it.
The storm outside was only the beginning.
I stiffened, suddenly knowing what he was about to do. Before I could prepare myself, a blinding flash of light lit up the dome, followed by a deafening crack.
The arena suddenly exploded into chaos. Wind and rain poured in, snuffing out the fire in the iron sconces. Yells and screams echoed through the air. Another flash lit up the dome, but it didn’t stop there this time. It streaked down, down, down, so intensely bright that it momentarily blinded me.
A monstrous boom shook my bones, the force throwing me back in my seat. Freezing rain pelted my face, and angry winds snatched at my clothes. When a buzzing sensation charged over my skin, making all of the hair on my body lift, fear sliced through me.
It took all of my strength not to curl into a cowering ball. Instead, I managed to blink the rain and spots from my vision, desperate to see what was happening. When my vision cleared, the image before me stole my breath away.
A figure stood in the arena’s center, completely enveloped in white hot light. Crackling blue edged the electric streaks of energy. The lightning. It raced up and down the figure, traveling so fast that I could barely track the movement.
It was Thorne. He’d called down lightning and was now controlling it.
A few tails whipped out, threatening to zap anyone or anything that got too close, but the majority stayed close to his body.
The deadly light illuminated his face, revealing perfectly poised features and eyes still sealed shut.
Wind stirred his hair, lashing it across his cheeks, but he didn’t twitch even a single muscle.
He was in a zen state, in absolute control over the dangerous element.
Just when I started to wonder what he planned to do with that lightning, his arms began to glow. No, his tattoos did. They lit up a bright blue, and the lightning whipping around him suddenly began to fade, to disappear. Inside the tattoos.
Dear elders, ancestors, and spirits. I’d known Thorne was powerful. I’d seen it firsthand. But no way in hell was I prepared to see a Cosmic harness and absorb lightning.
Seconds later, the lightning was gone. So was the wind and rain. The arena plunged into darkness, the only light the glowing tattoos on Thorne’s arms.
Silence fell once more, the only sounds coming from beyond the dome as the storm receded.
My skin continued to buzz from close contact with the powerful energy, intensified by the adrenaline sparking through me.
Fear still raced through my blood, but now, something else did too.
Something that could only be described as awe.
Never in my life had I witnessed such a spellbinding feat.
For a heartstopping moment, Thorne had transformed himself into a deadly tapestry of art in the shape of a storm.
He’d commanded that storm. He’d become that storm.
It was in his veins now, corralled into submission by the magical tattoos adorning his arms.
As the tattoos’ glow cooled and dimmed, Thorne lowered his arms and reopened his eyes. They immediately locked with mine, and I shivered, whether from dread or begrudging respect, I didn’t know. Maybe both.
He was terrifying, no doubt about it. But he was magnificent, too. No wonder everyone fawned over him. He was literally a god made flesh.
Not that I would ever tell him that. His ego was probably already the size of Mount Everest.
Still, his demonstration made mine look like child’s play, along with everyone else’s. We definitely couldn’t compete with his prowess, and I now understood why he hadn’t been impressed with our performances.
He was a master, and we were but lowly apprentices. Our magic was laughable compared to his.
And now, he was my mentor.
Lucky me.
As my imagination swiftly conjured up the many ways I could fail in the upcoming days, Professor Seacrest uttered a quick spell to relight the iron sconces. The darkness lifted, revealing Thorne already halfway dressed.
“Let’s give Mr. Hudson a hand for his unmatched display of audentia et fortitudo, everyone. Remarkable. Truly remarkable,” the professor said, his usually stern voice brimming with praise. He started to clap, and the others joined in, many rising from their seats now that the danger was over.
Thorne didn’t acknowledge the praise, grabbing his tie and blazer before stalking across the arena toward the exit.
He was almost there when he abruptly stopped.
His grip on his jacket tightened, then he turned back to face the room.
I thought for sure he was going to sketch a bow or something, but instead, he looked directly at me again and said, “Let’s go. ”
The clapping faded, all eyes swiveling toward me.
At the command in Thorne’s voice, the blood in my face promptly drained.
Terrific.
My master was summoning me . . .
And I had no choice but to obey.