Chapter 34 Killian
KILLIAN
“If you don’t shut the fuck up and let me do this IV, I will stab you and then wield it into your open wound.
One way or another, you’re taking the fucking medicine.
” Thane seethes at Luther, who’s scowling from where he sits on the couch with a mountain of pillows on either side to keep him from keeling over like the tower of Pisa.
Since waking up Sunday from a magically induced three-day coma, he’s been a pain in the fucking ass.
That’s how we knew he was okay after the heart attack.
And cardiac arrest.
Hemorrhagic stroke.
Cerebral anoxia.
Ischemia.
Infarction.
Baby girl was really going for the high score when she stopped his blood from flowing to keep him from killing her. Which I’m still pissed about. But I’ll make this about me later. Right now, I’m barely holding back my laughter as Thane plays nursemaid to our favorite overgrown dickhead.
“I’m fine,” the aforementioned dickhead growls.
I hold up the chef’s knife I’m currently using to make breakfast and whistle to get their attention.
“I got you, bro, just say when.” Thane gestures at me while glaring at Luther, who finally rolls his eyes and holds out his arm for Thane to insert the IV.
Twenty minutes and three more threats of bodily harm later, we’re having breakfast in the living room when Roth comes out of his bedroom where he’s been talking to his father on the phone.
“Well?” I ask through a mouthful of food, and he curls his lip.
“She stays. But she’s on probation.”
“How’d the vote play out?” Thane asks, handing him a plate when he sits in his chair.
“Marcus, Cyrus, Preston, and Corvus voted for her to remain so long as Cyrus was installed on campus in some capacity. Renard and Soren wanted her held at headquarters for testing. Vivica and Amadeus voted to remove her and release her to the Hektreia coven. Armand abstained.”
“What did Renard say?” he asks.
“Corvus and Armand—they’ve always been the outliers.
Preston is playing the protective father figure, keeping her close.
Marcus thinks Cyrus can charm his way into getting access to her, or rather her power.
” Luther groans and rests his head against the back of the couch as Roth continues.
“Renard wants to know how he can use her to secure more power, and Soren—”
“Wants her to break the curse.” Thane interrupts, and Roth nods.
“Vivica’s trying to sink her claws into Nyx before any other coven can use her to challenge Vivica’s supremacy. Amadeus wants to separate her from Ramsey so she won’t interfere with his attempts to bring him back into the fold.”
“She couldn’t actually do that though, right?” I ask.
Roth finishes chewing and sets his plate down on the table.
“According to the report Brandt submitted to the Council, her power is potentially limitless. As a witch, she can tap into primordial magic and wield blood like an elemental affinity—exhibit A,” he nods to Luther, who’s now faintly snoring.
“But more than that, she can wield the power within it. That’s what she did with the wards.
She siphoned the latent power from blood spilled to fortify the Foundation Stone and wielded primordial magic to take them down.
No spells. No amulets, talismans, runes, sigils.
No coven. She single-handedly shattered them.
When her power encountered Brandt’s attempt to contain it, she started to siphon from the living just as easily. ”
Our stunned silence is heavy in the air.
“No wonder why they want her under lock and key.”
“Renard would use her to crown himself as king in all but name,” Roth nods. “So yes, one day she might be able to stop Amadeus. The others? I’m not sure.”
“Fuck,” Luther says from beside me.
I flutter my eyes at him. “Glad you could join us, Sleeping Beauty.”
“I hate you.”
“There’s more.” Roth interrupts before I can say what was going to be a very witty comeback.
“Vivica has apparently opened an investigative inquiry to find the last bloodwitch’s lost grimoire.
She’s said it’s in Nyx’s best interest to compile all the knowledge they can find.
If she convinces Nyx to join her coven, there’s no telling what she might try to do. ”
“What do you want us to do?” Luther asks, and I scoff.
“Bro, you just died. Kind of. You’re going be a nice invalid and let Nurse Nagini over here—” I nod my head towards Thane, who rolls his eyes, “—take care of you until you can piss standing up again.”
“I really hate you.”
“You said that already. See? Can’t even come up with a better insult. Do you need a nap? Want me to fluff your pillow?”
He crosses his arms and glowers at me. “I want you to stick a—”
But Roth interrupts. “Luther—he’s not wrong. And we’ve yet to discuss everything.”
He looks down at the table and shrugs his shoulders. “There’s nothing to discuss.”
“You know I’ve never been able to imagine you as a toddler, but that pout? Yeah I can totally see it.” I frame my fingers like a camera and squint, taking a mental snapshot of his death glare.
“Killian.” Roth sighs, exasperated, as Thane tries not to smile. “Luther. What happened?” We sit in silence, waiting for him to find the words. He’s never been much of a talker—that’s always been my job. Eventually, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and holds his head.
“I can’t get away from her. I can’t—she’s everywhere.” He looks at each of us with a hard stare. “And she’s going to fucking ruin you.”
Thane frowns. “But—Wycked. You wanted her that night.”
Luther shakes his head and quietly says, “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore. Not now.”
Not for the first time, the idea of burying Cyrus—and his parents too, while I’m at it—where they’ll never be found crosses my mind. Even though we’ve kept him away from his family for years, their poison has convinced him to hate himself as much as they do.
“She defended you at the hearing,” I blurt.
“What?”
“When Cyrus was high on his own hubris, she said you didn’t deserve to be punished because you weren’t thinking clearly.
” The memory of Cyrus’ stupid fucking face reminds me—“That’s not even the best part.
He thought he was all slick, but she corrected him when didn’t address her as “Ms. Byrke” and said “you’re excused” when he tried to backpedal. ”
“She conducted herself well.”
I gasp like that one Deadpool meme at Roth’s unprompted praise. “That’s basically a declaration of love coming from you.”
Roth glares at me and threatens with a deadpan voice, “Keep talking, mutt, and you’ll sleep outside tonight.”
Worth it.
“Where the fuck is she?” Thane looks up from his computer across the table in our study room on Friday when I finally snap. “It’s been nine days.”
“You’re driving me fucking crazy this week.”
Rude. Accurate, but rude. “She hasn’t been in class. Or the Great Hall. Or the library. I even went by Smaug’s little lair but there wasn’t a single fresh scent of her.” My foot starts bouncing under the table and he crooks his eyebrow.
“How am I more stable than you right now?”
“Because I’m a brilliant magical botanist-chemist-drug dealing wielder who loves you.”
“Have you texted her?”
Only half a dozen times. “Yeah.”
“And?”
“Left on delivered. Have you?”
“Yeah. Left on read.”
“Fuck. At least she read yours.”
“Do you have Tori’s number? She might know where Nyx is.”
“I can get it.”
“Then go bother her instead of annoying the shit out of me when I’m trying to study.”
“Wait, you’ve actually been studying?”
“Yes, you asshole. It’s the only way I’m going to keep the internship with Mercer. Which is the only reason she let Luther out of the Medical Center under my supervision.”
“Well don’t let me stop you then.”
“Killer, if you’re not going to do anything besides pout, then please fuck out of here. Go for a run or something.”
“Twist my tail why don’t you?”
“Go. Away.”
“Save me some dinner?”
“Yeah, I’ll make you a plate.”
“‘K thanks byeeee.”
The moment I step outside the library, the earth calls out to me.
The drizzling rain only amplifies every scent as I make my way through campus to the edge of the woods.
After quickly stripping and stashing my clothes in a tree hollow, I let my demon rise.
The transformation is quick, but no less brutal as the demon emerges from beneath my skin.
In moments, the man I was disappears, and I let my magic loose, following the pulse of life that beats inside of every tree, every blade of grass.
They tell me to come closer.
Turn left. Stay right.
The drizzling rain has preserved the remnants of the witches Beltane feast from last night.
Scents hang heavy in the air—charred wood, ash, alcohol, food—glimpses in time witnessed by thousands of rustling leaves, felt by trampled roots.
I sneeze when the sharp taste of Fae magic stings my senses and shake my head.
Heat still lingers beneath the ground from the bonfires as I make my way around the clearing, and the breeze carries a familiar, whispered scent through the air. Ash and ozone.
There’s only one person at Dreadhurst who smells like a firestorm. I lock onto it and soon recognize another familiar scent—one that coated my skin even after I left her dorm.
Well, well. Nyx and Ramsey, sitting in a tree.
K-i-s-s-i-n-g, from the smell of it. The trees lead me along the path they took through the forest, tracing their footsteps until I come to a smaller clearing that’s fucking drenched in their combined scents, and the black fur on my back stands up as my hackles raise.
The their footsteps are etched into the earth, as are the imprints of knees on either side of a large body.
But noticeably absent is the scent of sex.
Almost, but not quite.
They stopped.