Chapter 9 #3
“This kind of thinking… there’s no cure for it. No redemption. Once you go there, once it’s shown you’re capable of doing something like this, it’s set in stone.”
I yanked him back to me, his skin and clothes smoldering.
“The world’s suffered enough as it is from fuckers like you. Beings like Vaxan and me have suffered enough.”
“Zayn…” Vaxan croaked.
I swept him underneath the shield a good few feet from the ailing and struggling Andrew.
“Not… what I… meant.” His pained eyes gestured at Pierce—what I was doing to him.
“He deserves it! They both do!”
“You… follow through any… further… you risk… becoming them.”
“How can you say that after what they’ve done to you?”
“Generational… cruelty can be… broken. But when justice becomes… vengeance unchecked… that possibility… lessens.”
“Vaxan—”
“Power isn’t all. That’s their line… of thinking. Don’t let it... poison you.”
“Motherfucker!” I roared, tossing Pierce over toward Andrew, where he landed in a heap within the sun shield and rolled back and forth weakly, trying to put the flames out.
He couldn’t manage it all the way because he was too weakened.
“Come the fuck on,” I muttered to myself as I held my right palm up and steadily drew the flames into my glowing fuchsia fire, pulling it all from him and channeling it into what became a sphere the size of a bowling ball levitating over my palm.
He finally stilled and laid there beside his fool of a buddy, and I strained to then draw the elemental fire from my arcane flame, releasing it steadily into the atmosphere bit by bit, where it would assimilate into the sun’s rays and also absorb into the heat emanating from it.
It took me longer than I would have liked, but I couldn’t just release it in a burst, or it could cause a dangerous explosion that, when combined with my own flame, could level a good portion of the immediate area.
While I had the ability to push back fire, even the likes of dragon fire, I didn’t like playing with it or absorbing it with my own. It felt… uncomfortable. Kind of like nails scraping across a chalkboard.
By the time I was done, Pierce had managed to pull out the stakes from Andrew’s throat and gut.
And then the two of them vamp-sped away together.
My instinct was to go after them.
But I stopped myself.
One, Vaxan needed immediate help.
Two, I’d tagged them both with my magic so there was nowhere they could run where I wouldn’t be able to find them.
Three, we had to be drawing attention by now.
Hold on. As I rushed to Vaxan and scanned the immediate area with my peripheral vision, I saw a bunch of people nearby playing near the lake, some who weren’t vamps or Basilisks sunbathing, some wolves leaping over things and having fun. And even two members of the faculty having a meal on a bench.
But none of them were freaking out or rushing over.
The faculty members—I didn’t even know how long they’d been here, because I hadn’t even cared about my surroundings or anything but stopping what had been happening to Vaxan. Then punishing those shits.
If they’d seen even a fraction of what had gone down, both me and the vamps would have been being carted away for disciplinary action—possibly even sent to the Guardian Compound and held in custody for a bit too. And Vaxan would already be in the Infirmary.
I skidded to my knees beside him.
Even fucked up and clearly not at his best, he read my whole demeanor really well, and told me, “Glamor up… few more minutes it’ll… hold.”
“You spelled this immediate area so nobody could see what was happening?”
“When I realized what… they intended… I couldn’t… couldn’t let anybody… see… me beaten… weak.”
Holy fuck. That was disturbing on so many levels.
Arguably, as much as the state of him.
His arms and hands were so severely shriveled, you could barely make out their normal shape.
There was blood oozing from the holes literally right through both his forearms. And white thick veins were crawling over every inch of skin visible.
That part had to be the venom crystallization thing.
His veins were hardening. No wonder he wasn’t healing.
“Hold on… how did I see through the glamor? It can’t just be my tracking spell.”
“Something concerning… our magic… fusing… in class… not sure.”
And there was no time to get into it. I’d already asked too many questions—yeah, I talked a lot when I was upset, nervous… whatever the fuck… feeling things I didn’t like.
“I’ll get you to the Infirmary ASAP,” I told him, gathering him against me, hating the pained grunts spilling from him as I moved his wounded body.
“No...”
I frowned down at him as I steadied him. “You need help. Like, right fucking now.”
“Not… that help.”
Oh. “Do you want me to—I’ll get Winter. I’m sure he’ll meet us there and—”
“No,” he rasped again. It was in utter desperation, and it seemed so wrong coming from him. “I don’t want him… playing caretaker to me. Neither physically… or emotionally. He’s been… doing so well. I won’t… allow this… to undo that.”
“What are you—”
“Just please… teleport me… to my suite. I will… see to myself.”
Jeez. He drove a hard bargain.
I’d do it, what he wanted, but unless there was some miracle cure inside his room, or he started actually fucking healing, we wouldn’t remain there long—I’d be taking him to the Infirmary.
His dorm room was… cozy.
Not opulent or dripping with luxury, like I’d imagined the suite of the High Lord Heir of the Excetra Crown to be.
Yeah, I’d researched his official title.
I had issues.
Obviously.
The only slight element of decadence was the fancy crimson duvet and the black velvet drapes.
But with his sunlight aversion, the drapes being that heavy material seemed more like protection than anything else.
Although there was sunlight shielding imbued in the window panes, so this was some real deep hypervigilance going on with him.
Even the duvet was so thick and layered, like it was there if the drapes failed or something.
Like his crown had today.
Speaking of that, as I eased him through the door against me and kicked it shut, he reached up shakily and removed it from his head.
“Only you can be the one to take it off, right?”
“Yes,” he returned, as he tried to put it down on a moss-green stool in a dark corner of his room where no light reached. He couldn’t manage the movement in his current state. Even taking it off had clearly taken supreme effort.
I eased it from his grip.
“It has to be… that corner,” he told me. “To… recharge.”
“Got it,” I said, as I carefully eased him onto his bed, then placed the crown upon the stool.
The moment I did, I was jolting back as a wave of citrine magic imbued with some golden flecks shot up from the stool and immersed the crown. Huh. So that was how it recharged.
“Why did it run out of charge today?” I asked him, as I moved back to the bed.
“I was… out and about. Away from campus. Doing research. In the… sun more than… normal.”
“Oh, that’s why you were frowning and touching it in the Cafeteria? You got hungry, and chose that over charging it right when you got back from wherever you were?”
He frowned, an almost-smile lifting his lips. It probably would have been a full-on one if he wasn’t so pained currently. “So, you are… treating me like… your prey.”
“What? No.” I looked away. “Get over yourself.”
I scanned his suite.
Everything was so unbelievably tidy. Nothing on the floors, bed perfectly made, no knickknacks around or even books on his desk or nightstands.
But then I caught sight of something stunning on a square metal table half in the room, half obscured by the hallway that led out to the balcony.
It was dark down there, meaning the balcony doors were also covered with those velvet drapes or something like it, and I strained to make out the details of the stone sculpture that was set upon the table.
It was a hand reaching up and grasping what appeared to be an ornate key with two fingers.
It looked like it was forever frozen in a state of straining to obtain a sturdier and more complete grip on the key, but never actually able to do so.
Wow. It was really something.
I swung my head back to him. “Tell me there’s something in here that can help you, or I’m taking you to the Infirmary whether you like it or not. And it’s not like you can kick or scream about it right now anyway.”
A weak glare mixed with an amused curl of his lip came my way.
“The chest… under the bed.”
“Chest? All right.” I crouched down and peered under the bed, locating a large brown leather chest within reach.
I pulled it out and hefted it onto the bed beside him.
He went to sit up, but couldn’t, collapsing back down before he’d even fully managed to sit up.
“What do you need from it?” I asked him.
“Oval bottle. A potion for… the crystallization.”
Fortunately, as I went to open the chest, it wasn’t sealed with magic.
I opened it up fully and took in the sight of a dozen oval-shaped crystal bottles with a dark mixture inside each.
Beside each the neatly positioned bottles was a suede cloth wrapped around something.
I took out one of the bottles and screwed off the chrome top.
With my free arm, I carefully eased him up against the headboard.
He went to reach out for the bottle, but his hand was shuddering and messed-up with the shriveling situation.
I shifted onto the bed on my knees and guided it to his mouth, then tipped it as he parted his lips.
It was all I could do not to jolt and spill it as I fed it to him when his weary eyes locked on mine, an intensity emanating from him and into me.
Or was it me projecting because this was… uncomfortably intimate?
Even though it was him injured and needing the help, I felt… exposed in a way.