Page 12 of Spells of Shadow and Blood

He was surprised by what he found when we entered. He had known Cirilla a long time and had entrusted her with my care. He never imagined she had lost her soul to dark magic.

It had been years since he had seen her in person, and he had never seen the evidence of dark magic in her eyes. The proof strewn about the house as opened spell books dotted every surface. Beakers filled with pink and green liquids. Stones of every color. Candles burning in clusters on the dining table, the counters, the coffee table.

There was evidence of dark magic everywhere you looked.

But Zion never knew about the Noctani. That secret was for Cirilla and me.

And Persephone, of course.

“Donika, why didn’t you tell me what was going on here?” he had asked, trying his best to clean the house up before anyone else could see. He didn’t want the evidence to linger, tainting her reputation. Cirilla was a well-known Nightshade among the community.

“I didn’t know,” I replied simply. The lie spilled from my tongue effortlessly.

He turned to me, his brows drawn together. “You didn’t know?” He swept his arm about to indicate the filthy house. “How could you not have known?”

I was old enough now to know better. That might not have been the case when I had first begun studying with Cirilla.

But it was now.

I had been young, weak, and naïve. I was none of those things now.

I shrugged absently. “She told me not to worry about these things and to mind my own business.” I nodded toward the table tucked into the dining nook. “We studied there—I wasn’t allowed to look through any of her other spell books.”

That was a lie, too.

Zion had too much on his mind. He simply waved away any concern and continued to clean up, and I helped him. I pocketed the bloodstones and gemstones I found scattered about. They could be of use to me later.

“This is my fault,” he muttered. He was kneeling by the coffee table, his head in his hands.

“What is, father?” I continued to flit from room to room, filling the trash bags with things I no longer needed.

“I sent you here. I should have pushed back at the school harder. You need to be around your peers. You need to be with children your own age.”

Under Cirilla’s tutelage I didn’t feel like a child at all anymore. I was as grown as the rest of them. But Ididwant to go back to school, if for no other reason than to rub my power in their faces. There was no way the other students were as powerful and intelligent as I was. I had a personal tutor in dark magic. I was far past the spells my peers would be studying at this age.

I nodded. “Perhaps you are right, father. Perhaps I should be around children my own age.”

His gaze lingered on me for a long moment before he nodded, his mind made up.

The next day he went back to the school and insisted they take me back. That I had learned to control my power, and I was no longer a threat to the other students.

One of those things was true.

Each day on my way to school I would turn into my wolf form and run there, the wind ruffling my thick white coat. I knew the wolf and I were becoming one, I could sense a change deep within me. What other reason could there be for my callousness? My lack of emotion and my thirst for power at any cost? With my use of dark magic, I was becoming more animal than human. I relished in the thought of becoming one with my wolf form, I simply needed to hide it from those around me. They wouldn’t understand.

At school, the other children no longer terrorized me.

Theyfearedme.

I was more powerful than any of them. I knew spells they could onlydreamof. They were busy unlocking locks and opening doors with their minds while I was mastering shadow wielding. Creating debilitating potions that would turn my worst enemy into a creature of their own vilest nightmares. I laughed at what they were teaching in school.

But I sat, and I learned. I didn’t draw attention to myself.

I was falling into a rhythm with my studies. I spent good portions of my time in my wolf form, studying with my peers, then engrossing myself in the Grishina grimoire each night. Zion had realized he hadn’t kept as watchful of an eye on me as he perhaps he should have, and he became somewhat of a smothering parent from that point onward.

But he still had no clue I had the Grishina grimoire in my possession. He simply thought I was reading books I enjoyed on those nights he couldn’t peel me away from the pages long enough to eat dinner with him.

I was comfortable. And I was happy.

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