Chapter Nine #4
Somnus sucked down five big, gulping gulps of whiskey.
“The first thing to know— The first thing— The first—” He staggered back, head lolling, and then snapped to us glaring like he didn’t know what the hell we were doing there or why we were staring at him.
“Oh, yeah. The first thing to know is that witch magic is fundamentally different than other types of magic.
“Demonic magic is dark magic,” Somnus got out. “And dark magic is so named because it demands a price. A price that must be paid by you, a sacrifice, or your victim. Vampires and werewolves—”
I was mildly surprised and relieved that he called them by their specie name and not by a slur.
“—have no magic in the traditional sense,” he continued.
“They were merely humans suffering under a curse that has spread either by birth or bite. Then, there are the fae, who bound themselves to the service of nature, and therefore received her blessings. Being that there is very little nature in hell, they rely on their wings as their source of power—for a fae’s wings are in and of itself a gift from the wind. ”
Quietly, I found my seat and flipped open my notebook. My pencil was flying across the page in seconds, writing down his every word.
“But what is a witch?” Somnus paused to let out an ear-splitting belch. “She is a mortal woman who has been blessed with power granted to her by a goddess. Now this magic,” he said, climbing onto his desk and stretching out with his feet up, “does not come at a cost in the same way dark magic does.
“There are limits, yes. There are rules—certainly. But a witch needn’t bargain with her power to get it to do her bidding,” he said. “Any more than she need bid her blood to run or her heart to beat. This essentially means that the power of the goddess—a piece of that goddess—lives within her.
“And there’s nothing the gods hate more than DEMONS!
” he burst out, gesturing at us with finger and bottle.
“That means that no matter how powerful the dark magic you throw at her, you cannot strip her of her power nor turn it against her.
The divine in her will resist the filthy, blasphemous magic of a demon with strength not even a lord of hell can hope to match.
“And even worse, the power of the goddess will destroy you,” he hissed. “And she won’t do it gently or quickly.”
Somnus nearly popped his head off shaking it. “Now, now, this doesn’t mean that demons can’t defeat a witch with magic. They just can’t take her magic from her, or compulse her not to use it. You will need other tricks up your sleeve.”
I found myself nodding along as I wrote—completely absorbed.
“In other words,” Ronin spoke up. “A demon must attack the woman, not the witch.”
Again another vigorous bob that made his furry ears flap in the breeze. “Egg-xactly.”
Attack the woman, not the witch? How would that work?
I opened my mouth to ask, but Somnus was already moving on.
“Now, what about fae, werewolves, and vampires? Do you all stand a better chance?” Bright, swimming eyes tried to sweep over us with a serious look.
“This depends. Witches created immobilization spells”—he pointed at the vampires—“and anti-shifting spells—“he pointed at Tristan—“and illusion-cancelling spells”—he pointed at the fae—“centuries ago.
“The witches have a counter for every tool in your arsenal, and they have done for long since before you all were born, so,” he said, sloshing the whiskey when he clapped, “it becomes less a matter of if you’re tough enough to face a witch, and more a matter if you’re quick enough to get her before her spells get you. ”
Somnus smiled the wide, beaming grin of a drunken fool. “And seeing as the little witch sneaking around our school is doing such an excellent job of hiding herself, methinks you’ve all lost the element of surprise.”
No classroom in Abaddon Academy had ever been so quiet.
“But no long faces!” he bellowed, shooting my heart into my throat again.
“Stop looking so doomed. You’re putting me off my drink!
This is what this class is for,” Somnus said.
“To teach you how to fight a witch, so come on. Who knows the first thing to do once you’ve got the sneaking witch cornered? ”
A few looks passed among the groups, but no one spoke up.
“Anyone?” Somnus slurred. “Annnnnyyyyoonnne?”
A hand shot up, whipping my head around. “I have an idea, sir. I know exactly what to do.”
I goggled at Ronin. Who even knew such a bright, chirpy sound could come from him?
“Yes, yes,” Somnus agreed. The panda demon tried to gesture to him, but ended up waving his bottle about ten feet to Ronin’s right. “Hit us with it.”
“Well, it occurs to me, sir, that the most obvious magic to use against a witch is a lust compulsion.”
“L-lust compulsion, you say?”
“Oh yes.” Something in Ronin’s smile dimmed mine.
“A lust compulsion does nothing more than turn one’s natural, normal desires up to maximum.
Her magic won’t enter the equation. The witch would be consumed with pursuing the object of her desires, and while she’s busy trying to mount the poor bastard, we’d get back that element of surprise. ”
“Hmm, hmm, hmm.” Somnus could’ve been nodding, or he could be nodding off. It was hard to tell as his chin fell on his chest.
“Good!” he bellowed, suddenly shooting up and once again scaring the mess out of me.
Will you stop doing that?!
“Very good, and exactly correct,” Somnus cried. “Target the woman, not the witch. Good. Very... good.”
Somnus lost the fight. Head lolling again, he tipped over—and crashed to the floor. A loud, ear-ripping snore rumbled his chest as he cuddled his bottle and went back to sleep.
“Thank you, sir,” Ronin drawled, “but this is a classroom and talk is cheap. I’m sure everyone would feel a lot better about facing down this witch, if they see the compulsion in action.”
And with that sentence alone, I knew exactly who suggested to Professor Somnus that he should make this a magic class.
I tried to stand. “Wait—!”
Ronin clamped down on my shoulder. “The compulsion is desiderium. The cost is the inability to have an erection or orgasm for twenty-four hours, but the result—” He held up his fingers.
“Don’t!”
“—is so worth it.”
A cloud of pink smoke formed in the air, and forced itself into my nose, mouth, and eyes. I wasn’t even done screaming before I got hot.
Really, really hot.
It wasn’t a conscious thought. One minute there was distance between us, and the next I shot forward and crushed my lips against Ronin’s.
“Hmmph!” Ronin tore away, knocking over his chair and almost ending up on the floor right next to it. “What are you doing?! Not me!”
Quickly, before I could pounce on him again, he turned on Tristan and shouted, “Desiderium!”
Ronin looking at Tristan made me look at Tristan, and just like that... he was all I could see.
The werewolf shouted something at Ronin and tried to outrun the cloud, but it tracked him like a homing beacon.
He launched over the desk in desperation and crashed to the floor. I was up and running before he picked himself up, locked eyes with me, and growled.
I launched off the bottom step and flew at him—grabbing his shoulders and almost dropping him back on the floor.
Well, maybe not almost. Tristan was sturdier than a tree trunk. Grabbing my hips, he caught and spun me—slamming me down on the desk.
We tore at each other’s clothes, practically ripping them to shreds. The part of my mind that governed rational thought and actions was working just fine. It was telling me that having sex with the guy I was freezing out in the middle of a full classroom was not a good idea!
It was reminding me that Ronin’s revenge to a little finger up the butthole was not equal, and letting him get away with this with a smirk on his face was the last thing I should do!
It was also reminding me that Sabrina mentioned a little something about werewolves mating just fine with regular human women— No, not just fine! They mate even better with us—freely popping out a litter of fleshy puppies!
If you’re really going to do this, get a condom! she screamed.
I could hear her loud and clear. Moreso, I could stop. I could say no. I could walk away right then. As burningly fierce as the desire coursing through my veins was, I knew it wasn’t stronger than my will.
“Compulsion magic can’t compete with an ironclad will.”
If Kazuya hadn’t said it before, I would’ve known it then. I could stop—
—I just really didn’t fucking want to.
Sabrina slithered away when my too-tight popcorn shirt went flying, mumbling about foolish humans and their terrible taste in mating partners.
I didn’t know what the flip she was talking about.
The wind blew out of my lungs gazing into Tristan’s darkening eyes. Soft, curling locks fell over his damp brow, and every muscle in his perfect, broad shoulders strained with the effort to not ravage me even harder than he already was.
There was nothing terrible about this mating partner.
Frankly, it was a miracle Tristan was allowed to leave the werewolf women’s secret compound when he visited two years before.
If male and female werewolves really couldn’t have sex outside of designated mating times, then Tristan should thank the burning skies that a couple of nubile, young maidens didn’t kidnap and lock him in their sex dungeon.
His eyes darkened. By Thor, he was perfect in that tight tee pulled taut over his rigid muscles. Soft locks fell over his lined brow, drawing me to his eyes—which burned me where I sat.
Rising up, I grasped his shoulders and smashed our lips together—clashing our tongues in a furious battle of moans and bruised lips.
I reached between us, palming his impressive and ridiculously hard length. Once again, the rational part of my brain wouldn’t shut up. That’s not a penis, it’s a weapon of vaginal destruction!
That sounded good to me.