Page 149 of Bedeviled

That’s all the warning I get before a wave of indigo magic sweeps into the room. If the sorcerer’s voice in my head was a water drop, then his power is a deluge, the rolling expanse of it hurtling directly toward me.

From somewhere within the thick clouds of Memnon’s power I hear, “Crone’s fucking cane.” And that would be my father.

Memnon’s form comes into view then as he strides into the room, his magic continuing to pour from him. His hair has already begun to stir, and there’s panic in his eyes that’s only quelled once they land on me. I see him relax further when he realizes I’m fine.

He crosses the room to me, his hands going to my upper arms. “Est amage, what’s happening?”

“My coven sisters are cursed!” I don’t mean for my voice to boom across the room, and I have to rip apart the spell still encircling my throat.

Memnon’s jaw clenches, and his eyes rise from me to take in the dining hall. His power follows his gaze, fanning out farther across the floor.

At the sight of it, I tense.

Beloved though his power is, it can be a violent, destructive force, one that’s much more inclined to rip humans apart than it is to heal them.

But when he moves from me to two nearby witches still bleeding out, he speaks the curse-breaking spell in its original Mochica form. Within seconds, dark magic purges out of them, and he moves to the next person in need of help.

I follow after him, Nero on my heels, and I only stop when I nearly trip over an older gentleman. He’s likely a parent who was merely here to enjoy a final meal with his daughter before he finished moving her out. I glance over at my dad, who’s helping a witch up from the floor on the other side of the room.

A deep anger takes root in me, stirring my power as I place my hands on the older man’s neck and repeat the curse-breaking spell.

My voice joins others as we recite the incantation. A mixture of colored magic rises to the ceiling as we work, hanging like a haze above us all. Once the older gentleman is healed, I move on to the next struggling person. Time blurs as Memnon and I and several other witches heal the last of the victims.

As soon as the final person is saved, Sawyer and Kane whisk Sybil out of here, and no amount of objections from my best friend stop it from happening. The Marin Pack protects their own.

All that remains in this room are the few of us supernaturals who are still checking on one another. Coven sister to coven sister, parent to child, stranger to stranger.

Memnon is talking to my father near the entrance to the dining hall, and he’s placed a comforting hand on my dad’s shoulder while my dad wipes tears from his cheeks. Benjamin Bowers does not have a stomach for violence.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting on the dining hall’s floor next to Nero, taking a moment for myself. I press my trembling hands to my temples, only belatedly aware that there’s blood on my fingers. Nobody died tonight, but fuck, someone so easily could’ve. Had everyone in this room not worked together…

I draw in bracing, measured breaths when my phone buzzes from my pocket.

I grab it with a bloody hand and bring it to my ear, a touch dazed. “Hello?”

A pause.

“Did you enjoy your farewell dinner?”

Immediately I stiffen when I hear the lilting voice across the line. A voice as sweet as it is barbed.

“Eislyn.”

Fury rises in me, and rivulets of my magic pour out of me, the orange ribbons of it catching the light and glimmering blue for a moment.

Across the room, I see Memnon’s spine stiffen. Slowly, he turns to me. He must’ve overheard who I’m talking to.

“It’s not nice when someone comes into your home and ruins it for you, is it?” the fairy continues.

She must be referring to the booby traps. I allow myself to feel a petty spark of joy that maybe, just maybe, that means that at least one of the spells worked.

My phone nearly slips through my bloody grasp, so I press it tighter to my ear as rage wells in me.

It’s one thing for Eislyn to target me, another for her to go after those I care about.

“You know,” I say, tearing my gaze from Memnon, who’s already striding over, “I read the most interesting story about this pathetic fae who was as ruthless as she was incompetent. Apparently she was born a princess and had every conceivable privilege laid at her feet, and yet she was still a miserable little shit.

“I heard she even tried to stage a coup in her kingdom but failed, and in a mercy she didn’t deserve, she was exiled to Earth, where she’s been trying to control kingdoms ever since in an endless quest to prove herself like the pathetic fucking cum stain she is. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Eislyn?”