Chapter 58 Alaric
Alaric
Watching the witch dance with the incubus had caused an unexpected storm to hit the campus.
Not even the witch weed joint Arron had slipped into my pocket when he passed helped calm me.
Besides, I wouldn’t be able to smoke it until later.
After an unfortunate accident involving a stoned mage, the school had banned witch weed, and any students caught smoking it in communal spaces faced expulsion.
I almost laughed at the idea of Montgomery trying to expel my ass.
The only silver lining to my evening so far was that I’d not crossed paths with Kinara. No doubt she was still troweling on her makeup. Like many witches who dabbled in dark magic, she suffered from skin problems.
Dark magic was basically death magic. If you used too much of it, it led to cell necrosis.
The hands and the face were the first to be affected.
Witches who chose power always paid the price.
Kinara’s mother disguised her ravaged looks with heavy-duty masking spells, as did my stepmother.
Younger witches like Kinara who used it mostly relied on makeup, but it wouldn’t be long before expensive makeup no longer concealed the necrotic patches on her face and hands.
Did I want to share a bed with a half-dead corpse?
No.
Lightning crackled high above as dense clouds swirled while rain hammered the marquees placed on the quad for the speeches. I headed outside, desperate for some fresh air, only to spot my father talking to a guy in a weird robe.
The closer I got, the more my magic sparked. Dad was so engrossed in whatever they had going on that he failed to notice me.
“The seal is failing!” the other man hissed, but my father seemed unmoved by his passionate statement. He scoffed before glancing at his watch.
“You worry too much. Maybe you should get back to your little farm and let me handle the big stuff.”
“I agreed to step back because it benefited me at the time, but I will not stand by and do nothing, Tiberius.”
Curiosity got the better of me. The wind picked up, stealing the rest of their heated conversation, so I moved a step closer. My father must have sensed my presence because he half turned.
“Son, come and meet your long-lost uncle.” This was Uncle Adam?
“Adam, meet my only son, Alaric. He’s a storm mage.” From my father’s beaming smile, an outsider would have assumed he was proud of me. I almost laughed. Proud of my power levels, yes, but only because my being powerful benefited him.
The man in front of me was an inch shorter than my father, but bulkier in a way that suggested days spent doing a manual job. Unlike my dad, who lived in a designer suit and paid lesser magicals to do his dirty work.
The guy’s skin was many shades darker than ours, tanned from years of sun exposure. His hair curled loosely over his shoulders, blond like mine. His eyes were more blue than green, but I could see the family resemblance.
This was the man my father would have been if he’d lived a harder life. One less soaked in privilege and money.
My uncle stared at me for several seconds, almost as if he was assessing me against some internal checklist. Did I meet the required criteria? The guy had a commendable poker face, so I couldn’t tell.
“I've not seen you since you were a baby,” he said at last. I caught a faint smile before the poker face returned.
“I need to get ready for my speech,” Dad said with a fake-as-fuck smile. “Perhaps we can chat later?”
“We’re not staying,” Uncle Adam stated. A plain female wearing a dowdy black dress appeared from the shadows. She watched me and then my father. Was this my cousin? She didn’t look like me. She also appeared at least ten years older than me.
Uncle Adam didn’t introduce us, so I assumed not. Perhaps she was his wife. Or mistress.
My father had females stashed all over the country. Brianna mostly turned a blind eye until they asked for more. Then they disappeared.
“Please take on board what I said,” Uncle Adam said through gritted teeth. “Time is running out.”
“Why’s time running out?” It was a simple question, but Dad’s affable smile vanished.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Alaric. Now take your seat on the dais.” He skewered me with an icy glare. “Oh, and stop the rain like a good boy, then go find your lovely fiancée. She’s been searching for you.”
“I’d rather stick my head in a hellhound’s mouth,” I replied. “On all counts.”
He lunged at me, but I darted out of reach. When I was younger, he’d have disabled me with his magic and whipped me until I passed out, but there wasn’t a damned thing he could do now that my power had increased.
I jogged back toward the quad and hung around on the edge of the crowd, processing what I’d heard about the seal failing – I assumed they meant the seal on the portal to the demon realm, which would explain the demons seen around the campus.
The rain continued to fall in direct correlation to my shit mood, hitting the magically protected marquee and bouncing right off. Since I hadn’t taken my seat yet, I had no protection, but I gave no shits. The minute the speeches were done, I was leaving.
A flash of red caught my eye. When I looked up, I spotted my dear fiancée stumbling down the path. From her unsteady gait, she’d had one too many glasses of elderwine.
The minute she stepped away from the two other witches giggling beside her, I released a lightning bolt. It blasted the ground at her feet, causing a mini explosion of soil and debris that left her wet and filthy, her hair dripping with muddy water and grit.
An enraged shriek nearly burst my eardrums, but I laughed anyway. Thankfully, she couldn’t see me since I’d put up a shield, but she’d know I was to blame.
Well good.
It was no less than the bitch deserved.