Page 78 of Shattered Veil
I close my eyes, reaching out with my magic. The shadows around me respond, turning into inky tendrils that slither across the ground. I shape them, willing them to form a net of darkness.
A familiar presence suddenly materializes beside me. Marius.
His obsidian eyes meet mine, a silent understanding passing between us.
If anyone had told me I’d be waking up in his arms this morning, I would have said they were insane. But he stayed all night with me, only slipping away in the early morning light. I don’t yet know what this is between us, but I know we’re linked in a way that is not just about our shadow magic. It’s unsettling, and potent, just like the darkness that runs under my skin.
“I’ll distract it,” he says.“You trap it.”
I nod. Marius steps out from behind our cover, his own shadows dancing around him. The hydra’s heads snap towards him, drawn by the display of magic.
Now’s my chance. I dart out, circling wide. My shadow net spreads before me, ready to spring.
Marius dances between the hydra’s striking heads, a blur of motion. His shadows lash out, stinging the beast’s eyes and confusing its attacks. It’s the opening I need.
I sprint forward, unleashing my net of shadows. It expands rapidly, enveloping the hydra’s gigantic form. The creature thrashes, its heads whipping wildly as it tries to break free. But my magic holds firm, constricting tighter with each movement.
“Now, Brigid!” Marius shouts.
I focus all my energy, willing the shadows to solidify. The net transforms into unbreakable chains, binding the hydra’s heads together. It crashes to the ground with an earth-shaking thud, immobilized.
Panting, I stumble back. The forest falls spookily silent as the remaining students emerge from hiding. Dean Fiona materializes at the edge of the clearing, slow-clapping.
“Well done, Ms. Ryan,” she says, her eyes gleaming.“It seems you’ve exceeded expectations yet again.”
I nod weakly, exhaustion settling into my bones. Marius appears at my side, steadying me with a hand on my lower back, his contact welcome for once. Fiona notices and she narrows her eyes.
But I’m too exhausted to even try to imagine why.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Callen
The roar of the crowd fades as Lochan and I slip away from the Harrowing after-celebration. My heart’s still racing from Brigid’s performance—that girl never ceases to amaze me.
“Damn, man. Did you see her take down that hydra?” I whisper to Lochan as we duck behind a corner. “Thought she was toast for a second there.” The entire event had been projected up in the sky for all of us to watch.
Lochan grunts, eyes scanning the hallway. “Focus, Callen. We’ve got work to do.”
He’s right. I push thoughts of Brigid aside, though it’s harder than I’d like to admit.
As we near Charling’s—no, Fiona’s office now—I feel myself get uncharacteristically nervous. We’re dealing with so much more than we knew. I haven’t spoken to my father since his sudden appearance in our suite, but I was well aware of his presence on the dais, and his interest in Brigid as she undertook the challenges of the Harrowing.
We’re at the door to the office now. I take a deep breath, steeling myself. With a nod to Lochan, I ease it open.
We slip inside, and I’m hit by the musty scent of old books and—is that patchouli? Figures Fiona would funk up the joint.
My eyes dart around, taking in the changes. Gone are Charling’s stuffy portraits—except for the regulation portrait of King Cillian with his glittering crown—replaced by dreamcatchers and paintings of Celtic symbols. Crystals of all shapes and sizes are scattered on the shelves and desk, some catching the light and casting rainbows around the room. A lava lamp bubbles on the desk.
“Sweet Cernunnos,” I breathe. “It’s like a New Age shop threw up in here.” It’s a stark contrast to the previous owner’s staid decor.
Lochan elbows me, scowling. “We don’t have much time.”
Right again. I look around, scanning for anything useful. The weight of what we’re doing hits me suddenly. If we’re caught—well, best not to think about that.
“Keep watch,” I mutter, already running my hands along the smooth surface of the dean’s desk, the polished wood cold and smooth under my fingers.
Lochan takes up a position by the door.
