Chapter 36
“Ms. Hallistar! I’m impressed. I expected to see more weakness after your days off sick, but here you are, showing the true
skills of a spellcaster.”
Professor Damone’s normally unflappable features slackened as she watched me draw air around myself and funnel it up through
the specially made glass tubes in her classroom. The rest of her was as put together as always, from the tight chignon in
her blond hair, to the perfect eyeliner she always wore. But her expression . . . I’d stunned her.
The air wrapped me in its embrace as my magic flowed with the element and back into my center. It was hard to remember when
I’d been locked down and working against my own powers. The icy strain of reaper magic wasn’t present when I touched elements,
keeping me safe from revealing my secret.
Professor Damone, like all my professors today, had presumed that my spellcaster side was finally blossoming. None of them
looked any deeper than that, which would hopefully be the norm moving forward. I’d already spoken to Mom at lunchtime, and
after she chastised me for not stopping by home before heading back to school, she’d offered to send a suppression potion
with Dad. That’s my last resort, I’d told her, and even though she sounded worried, she didn’t argue with me. A suppression potion wasn’t a long-term option. It couldn’t be.
My magic whispered that hiding her nature had weakened Gran to the point that she hadn’t survived childbirth. Our magic was
innately part of our essence and strength, and I would have been surprised to find any suppressed reaper living to old age.
Cutting off our magic long-term was destructive to our health and well-being.
Ever since I’d felt that connection to Gran at our family crypt, I’d had a closer link to my affinity. A part of her spirit
remained within me, and I was sure it would help me learn to control the monsters and make reaper-related decisions moving
forward.
By the time class was over, I all but bounced from the room, feeling stronger than I had in forever. The curse had been draining
me for so long I’d forgotten what feeling good was like.
It was amazing.
Amusement washed through my newly cemented connection to Logan—who was in one of the few classes he couldn’t miss—and with
it came a fizzle of excitement in my stomach.
Sensing him the way I did now, a true connection, had never been described in the texts. I knew bonded and married magical pairs had a connection, but I could feel Logan in my essence. Our magic was freely linked, even over distance. It was almost as if his energy was there beneath my
fingertips, ripe for the taking. Not that I’d be taking any to leave my mate weaker, but it was an interesting sensation all
the same.
Sara met me at the door of the classroom; she’d been working with a few seniors today. “Your magic is on fucking fire,” she said, slinging the arm not holding her school satchel around me. “You’re going to kill it as a spellcaster.”
I smirked as her voice rose, and when Marcus fell in on her other side, all amusement dried up. Rafael had never confirmed
he was the other spellcaster waiting in the wings to curse me, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
“Go away, Marcus,” Sara snapped, snuggling me closer to create a gap between him and us. “Before her mate rips your fucking
head off and uses it as a bowling ball.”
When heat burned around Marcus, I tapped into my own magic.
I didn’t need to call a monster to scare him away.
Reapers carried all the same magical ties as a spellcaster, with the addition of a beefed-up necromancy. “You don’t speak
for Paisley,” he snapped, his energy crackling, which Sara wiped away with a wash of air. She was a strong elemental, made
even stronger by her attitude of giving no fucks.
“In this case, Sara absolutely speaks for me,” I told him coldly. “She’s also not kidding about Logan. He’s not particularly
happy about what he heard from his father . . . you know, Rafael Kingston . . . regarding you. I’d watch my back, spellcaster.”
I’d deliberately baited him to reveal his part in all of it, and sure enough, there was a subtle flinch when I mentioned Logan’s
dad. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said stiffly, looking around the hall. “Never met the guy, and I heard
he was dead anyway. Blew himself up with his own curse.”
With that, he spun on the spot and hurried in the opposite direction. “Fucker,” Sara seethed. “At least we know Noah and Toby’s
story is holding up.”
That was a relief. We already had enough issues, without having to defend ourselves from a murder charge too.
“I can’t believe Marcus,” I said. “He established a connection and then just lay in wait in case Logan didn’t fulfill his side of it.
” Hence the weird hot-and-cold act he’d been throwing my way through last year.
“Logan is going to kill him,” Sara said with a smirk. “And he deserves that and way worse.”
“I might kill him,” I said with a shrug. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I enjoy Logan blasting shitheads to pieces for me, but
I also enjoy fighting my own battles.” Now that my magic was free for such ventures.
Sara held up her hand for a high five, and I rolled my eyes but gave her what she wanted.
“Well, that was the last class for the day,” she said, an extra pep in her step too. “Should we meet with Haley in the library
and get our homework done?”
I was weirdly looking forward to our study session. “Yep, we have a couple of hours before dinner. The guys will find us,
I’m sure.”
“They always do,” Sara said with a sigh, but she didn’t sound too upset. Tobias hadn’t fully won the witch over yet, but he
was a Hel of a lot closer. I’d seen the two of them in many discussions lately, and there’d been hardly an insult or accidental
blast of elemental magic involved.
Haley already had a large table staked out in the best section near the fireplace. Over the next hour this place would be
full, so we spread out to save seats—our warlocks weren’t exactly small.
I started on history first, delving further into the conception and evolution of Weatherstone College. We were researching
the time when the two original witches—Writworth and Ancot—decided they couldn’t just specialize in necromancy if they wanted
to produce the strongest students and army.
“Professor Jones is being a hard-ass this year,” Sara groaned, waving her hand and letting air hold her pen for a few minutes. “Who decides to assign a five-thousand-word essay that’s due in the fourth week? That’s cruel.”
Haley snorted. “It wouldn’t be so bad if you started three weeks ago like the rest of us.” She’d had her assignment finished
for days and had moved on to the next one. She was always two steps ahead, and I’d tried to stay that way as well, but this
year hadn’t exactly gone to plan.
“I’m with Sara,” I said, letting my head bang on the table. “I need another thousand words, and I’m fairly sure the crux of
my argument is ridiculously weak, and I fucked up some of the timeline.” It would take hours to read through and fix it once
I got my word count up.
Haley’s expression was sympathetic. “Witch, you were literally dying from a curse. You have an excuse.” She leaned forward
with her hand out. “Let me read through what you’ve got and I’ll see if I can help.”
I hesitated, having never needed help with schoolwork before. Sara patted my arm. “Seriously, take the assist. You deserve
it after everything you’ve been through.”
“Feels like cheating,” I admitted with a huff.
Haley grumbled out a laugh. “I’m not going to finish it for you. I’ll just make notes, like an editor would.”
I couldn’t see an issue with that, so I handed the pages scrawled with my sloping handwriting to her. A few of our other professors
had assignments and homework due, so I moved on to them while Haley read my history essay.
When I was halfway through research into protective spells that used angelica as the main binding agent, my magic vibrated softly, telling me Logan had entered the library.
Our connection perked up, and I tried to remain focused on the spells, but it was almost impossible.
As his energy closed in, I found myself staring at the exact spot I knew he was about to appear, my pulse thrumming like a trapped butterfly.
Green eyes pinned me in place, and my pen fell from my hand and rolled off the table. When Logan was in the room, he eclipsed
everything else in existence.
Would it always be like this?
An all-consuming desperate need.
Two large warlocks followed Logan, and somewhere in my mind I knew it was Noah and Tobias, but again, there was only awareness
of the spellcaster. He stalked forward, and when he reached my chair, he hauled me into his arms, burying his face against
the side of my neck. A gust of air escaped him, tension releasing as he slowly drifted his nose along my skin, breathing me
in.
He finished with a press of his lips just behind my ear, and I gasped, my lungs screaming at me. Logan had me so fucking discombobulated
that I forgot to breathe.
“Mate,” he growled against my skin. “I missed you.”
We’d only been apart for a few hours, but in this newly blossomed bond, that was far too long for both of us. “I missed you
too,” I whispered, my throat tight, need fluttering in my core. “So fucking much.”
He let loose another growl. “Precious, I’m two seconds from hauling you over my shoulder and heading for our room. If you
still have schoolwork to finish, tell me now.”
I couldn’t imagine any class more important than being alone with Logan, and just as I was about to tell him that, Haley piped
up. “She has a lot of work to finish, so drop her back into her chair, lover boy.”
My bookish bestie didn’t use her teacher tone around powerful warlocks much, but today she meant business. Logan groaned as
he gently returned me to my seat. “You get her for another hour,” he grumbled. “Then she’s mine.”
A shiver of anticipation raced down my spine and into my magic. Noah, already understanding what his best friend needed, reached out and dragged Haley’s chair away from mine, making space for Logan at my side.
He pulled a chair up and sat close, leaving me breathing in ragged, awkward gasps. “Deep breaths, baby,” he whispered, handing
me my dropped pen. “You have fifty-eight minutes now to finish your homework.”
“Paisley,” Haley snapped, and I shook my head in the hopes of finding focus. “Here’s your essay.” She leaned around Logan
to return it. “It’s quite good, actually. You write in such an easy-to-read and engaging tone, but you’re right about some
of the timeline and facts being out of order. I’ve made notes of where you need to look, and I suggest you get to work.”
I pressed my lips tighter to hide my smile. “Yes, ma’am,” I chirped, dragging the papers toward me. “And thank you. I appreciate
your help.”
She blew me a kiss. “I’d do anything for you, Paisley Hallistar. You and Sara are my chosen sisters.” Her eyes were glassy
as she continued. “We almost lost you, and I’m eternally grateful that we’re all together now.”
Noah wrapped a beefy arm around her, his expression thunderous as he stared at the tear that spilled down her cheek. According
to Haley, they hadn’t had the conversation yet about what they were to each other, but it was clearly coming. Noah’s possessiveness
toward my friend reminded me of Logan, and there was only one path for a warlock with those feelings.
“I’m grateful too,” Logan said, the tenor of his husky voice filling the air.
“But the danger isn’t over just yet. We still need to discuss our next steps.
Not here, of course,” he added, eyeing all the full tables around us, “but when we leave for our gig next weekend, we will talk about the future.”
A tense silence descended over our group; even Tobias wore a composed expression.
Our moments here at Weatherstone were nothing more than a reprieve.
A reprieve from the next battle we had to face.
How to stop the council from destroying me.