CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
I stumble through the ruins of the ballroom, my boots crunching on shards of glass and debris. Bodies lie strewn across the floorboards of the dance floor, blood gummy against it. The acrid stench of smoke and death chokes the air.
Panic rises in my chest as I scan the chaos for any sign of him. I spot a dark figure sprawled near the fountain, raven hair matted with blood.
No.
I race over and drop to my knees beside him. "Damien." His eyelids flutter open, clouded with pain. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth as he struggles to speak.
"I had...to protect you," he rasps. “One good act in a life of misdeeds.”
Tears blur my vision as I grip his hand. "Why did you do that?"
A ghost of a smile touches his pale lips. "You know why."
He closes his eyes again, chest barely moving. I stand and tear off the bottom of my dress. It’s not like it’s in any condition for resale. I crouch and press it to the gaping wound in his abdomen, but the blood seeps through my fingers, hot and thick.
Panic claws at my insides. I can't lose him, not now, not when there's so much left unsaid between us.
Gran’s grimoire might not be well-versed in Shadowcraft, but it does have healing spells a plenty. I try them, one after the other.
“Cura Lux.”
“Renovo Vita.”
“Serenum Salvus.
But nothing stops the life from flowing out of him.
It’s useless. I can’t work against this kind of magic.
It’s fatal, I think, but I can’t bear to hash out the possibility of a future without him. Damien Darkwood has become my entire world.
"Please," I whisper, adding more pressure to the wound. "Stay with me."
I see a few others emerging through the smoke, dazed.
There’s no response. Dread washes over me, cold and sharp as steel. After everything we've endured, it can't end like this.
I lean down until my lips graze his ear and pour all the emotions I've bottled up into three simple words, a tear falling from my cheek to land against the scar that runs across his lips, the scar that marked the man who met me at the ball, who ruined me and freed me and showed me power and pleasure beyond my wildest dreams.
I say them, speak them aloud.
A ragged breath escapes his lungs. His eyes flutter open once more, gazing up at me with a tenderness I've only dared to imagine.
"Annabelle,” he whispers.
There’s no ‘pet’ or ‘lamb’ or cute moniker.
Just my name on his dying lips.
“I love you, too.”
I have to save him, even if it destroys me.
Joy and anguish war inside me.
Nope.
Fuck this.
Summoning every ounce of power within me, I place my hands on either side of his face.
I have all the power I need. I can do this.
"This is going to hurt," I warn him before letting the forbidden magic surge through my veins. His body arches, and a hoarse cry tears from his throat as I pour my life force into him.
Agony lances through me, but I grit my teeth and push on. My insides are electrified with energy, arms and legs jerking as power, pure and unfiltered, course through them. I grit my teeth. I will not lose him. Not today, not ever. The darkness threatens to consume me, but at last I feel his wounds knitting themselves together, his heart growing steady and strong.
The magical tide recedes, leaving me limp and gasping. But when I open my eyes, his gaze is clear and alert, a smile playing about his lips.
"I told you there was power in you yet to be unleashed," he says softly.
I laugh and swipe at the tears on my cheeks. "And I told you you'd be the death of me."
He pulls me down into his embrace, one hand tangling in my hair. "Never," he murmurs against my skin. "You're mine, Annabelle, now and forever."
I lift my head to meet his gaze.
"Prove it."
He claims my lips, a kiss that is gentle, yet demanding and perfect in all ways.
I break away from it, breathless. His arms tighten around me as I try to pull away, unwilling to let me go just yet.
I see Ava falling to her knees past us to the right. She doesn’t look good.
"I have to check on the others," I say.
He sighs, reluctantly releasing me. I stand on shaky legs, swaying slightly from the drain of healing his injuries and the rush of desire flooding my veins.
"Will you come back?" His voice is raw, but he seems stable for now.
I hesitate, torn between my duty to the others and my longing to lose myself in his embrace.
"Annabelle." My name is a command, one that resonates deep within me. I turn to find his eyes burning into my own, silently demanding my surrender.
I clench my hands into fists, nails biting into my palms. Still, I keep my tone light as I retort, "Careful, Professor. Keep talking to me like that and I just might decide not to come back at all."
The corner of his mouth quirks up. "You enjoy tempting fate, don't you, my pet?"
"Perhaps." I shrug, feigning nonchalance despite the flush creeping up my neck. "Or perhaps I simply enjoy tempting you."
With that parting shot, I spin on my heel and stride towards Ava.
I slide up beside her.
She puts her hand up, speaking between breaths. “I’m okay…just…winded.”
I see Cassandra further back, still naked, pacing with what appears to be spellshock.
Lily’s over to the left sitting up and shaking her head but is otherwise unscathed save for the gash on her arm.
“What about…Dark…wood?” Ava pants.
“He’s fine. I patched him up,” I tell her, trying to look her over.
She lifts her finger in his direction. “Are you sure?”
I spin around to see Damien lying flat again, eyes closed. “Shit.”
“Go,” Ava says, choking it out.
I rush back to Damien’s side, bring two fingers to the side of his neck, but there’s no pulse there, no life at all.
I dip my ear to his lips, but again, there’s nothing.
It’s too much.
“Help!” I scream.
“Help!” I scream again, and again.
I scream until my lungs burn.
THREE DAYS LATER
I look to the towers looming overhead, one of which houses the recovery wing where Damien lies in a magically-induced coma.
It took ten minutes for help to arrive, even the Academy doctor looking down at the Professor ominously. Ten minutes I held him in my arms, cold, the pool of blood around us slowly cooling until it had the consistency of molasses.
Ava and Lily did what they could, but this was far beyond them.
Eventually Professor Hawthorn arrived. He’d been tending to his garden when this whole, hellish spectacle had unfolded. Together with the doctor they lifted Damien’s lifeless body out of there, Lily and Ava holding me back while they took him away to the infirmary.
That was three days ago—enough time for the Arcane Oversight Bureau to swoop in and start the clean-up. Read: endless interviews and questions and way too many people in black around here for my liking after Mortis.
I gave them what I could, without elaborating on certain nocturnal activities I’d engaged in.
I make my way across the courtyard, the Academy all but a tomb. Over seventy-five students were massacred in the ballroom that night, just butchered where they stood laughing, drinking, trying to get laid…
And poor Leo.
"Ana," Lily rushes up to me, hair flying behind her. "Any news about Darkwood?"
I shake my head. "Nothing new. The AOB healers are still monitoring him, apparently."
“Lucky Hawthorn had that plant.”
Veilweed. An ugly fucking plant if ever there was one. Hawthorn had been growing it to help him sleep, but it proved more than useful that night, allowing him to place Damien into a coma.
"This is awful." Lily wraps her arms around herself, peering around nervously. "Everyone's saying Mortis might not be dead.”
“She’s fucking dead,” I tell her. “I killed that bitch cold, hot, whatever. She’s ash.”
I place what I hope is a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but it’s trite. I’m not good at this. "The Professor will recover, and the wards will be strengthened to prevent anything like this from happening again. You see how the AOB are crawling around this place, right?"
Lily looks at the one standing guard in the corner. “Can’t tell if they’re AOB operatives or real-estate agents.”
I laugh at that, for the first time in days. It feels good, a relief to know I can still summon some semblance of joy.
“And you really think Darkwood will be okay?”
"Of course." I force a smile, hiding my doubts behind a mask of confidence. "Professor Darkwood is the most powerful warlock here. He'll pull through."
Lily nods, seeming to accept my reassurance. "You’ll let me know if there’s any change?”
“Of course."
“How’s Lily?”
Ava gives a light chuckle. “She’s going to have a badass scar on her arm, but otherwise back to her usual shitty self.”
“That’s good to hear.”
We part ways, and I head to the infirmary wing in the third tower, anxiety gnawing at my insides with every step. What if he never wakes up? What if the AOB healers can't counter the deadly effects of Mortis's curse?
I clench my hands into fists. I can't lose him. Not when there's still so much I need to understand about myself, about the desires he's awakened within me, my parents...
At the entrance to the wing, I'm stopped by a healer. Even she’s rocking the real-estate look. "Sorry, only faculty members are allowed in at this time."
I stand up straighter and meet her gaze, refusing to back down. "I'm here to see Professor Damien Darkwood. Please, just let me pass."
The healer studies me for a long moment, as if weighing whether it's worth arguing, before stepping aside with a curt nod. “You’re her, aren’t you? Annabelle Fairchild?”
Damn straight. You know, complete and total ass-kicker, saver of worlds. Instead, I give a light smile. “I am.”
She nods. “Five minutes only."
"Thanks." I sweep past her into the wing, making a beeline for Damien’s private room.
I stand by his bed. He’s so pale—an apparition more than a man.
I reach down and take his hand, but it’s cold. I don’t try to hold back the tears any longer. “Come back to me,” I beg him. “Come back.”