Page 32 of The Magic of Revenge
"Well, I want to see what you're capable of. It's been a while since I've seen you in action and I want to see if there's potential." He walked out to a grassy meadow and I followed.
"Potential? For what?"
"More." He looked back at me over his shoulder with a grin that definitely met his eyes.
Okay, whatever we're doing is something he's passionate about.That didn't do much to reassure me. Passion tended to make people different. It had promise to be the greatest thing and in the same stroke, passion could be absolutely damning.I guess I'm about to find out...
"When I started this company, I wasn't sure what I wanted to get out of it. Prestige? Acknowledgment? Money? All things that men crave," he said, staring across the field as the wind whipped through the tall grass. "It quickly became clear to me that I wanted to research. I already had money, so I put that to use by hiring the top scientific minds in the magical community to start exploring our DNA and experimenting."
A chill raced down my spine. I didn't like the sound of where this was headed.
"And do you know what we discovered, Mr. Sullivan?"
"Don't call me that," I snapped before I could stop myself.
"My apologies," he lied. He wasn't sorry.
"There's only one Mr. Sullivan and it's not me. If you insist on using my last name, just leave the prefix off. Please," I added as an afterthought.Don't piss him off, Sloane.
"Right. Your father. How is that grumpy fuck doing in 7th Circle?" he asked and I couldn't hide the surprise on my face. “Yeah, I know all about daddy dearest. Real piece of work,” he said, absently brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his suit. Because yeah, the guy was wearing a three piece suit during a training session.
“And how do you know about him?” I questioned, my jaw flexing in irritation. My past was just that. Mine.
“Don’t be dense, boy. I know everything about my employees. Your father, however, I’ve met. Not long ago, actually,” he admitted, staring me down, seeing how I’d react.
“My father… who has been in prison for fifteen years, somehow earned a visit from the notorious Asrael Montague? I cannot wait to hear the rest of this story,” I deadpanned, locking my emotions down. Why the fuck would this guy be visiting my father?
Asrael smirked, as though he knew my game and saw straight through it. “I wanted to know more information about you, of course. Everything and everyone has its purpose.”
Fire licked at my fingertips and I let it out. We were here for this anyway, why hold it in? Asrael’s eyes greedily studied the flames in my hands. "Well, seeing as how he couldn't give a shit less about me, I doubt he had information you didn't already know," I sneered.
"Every father knows his son. They are an extension of themselves, after all. The apple doesn't tend to fall far from the tree," he replied coolly.
"And what did he have to say?" I asked, hating myself for even caring. Gods, I hated that piece of shit.
"Oh, the shit I'm sure you're used to him spouting. What I was curious about were your powers. Did you know there's only ever been one pyro in history with the capability of turning into a complete burning man without falling to the heat of the flames?"
I played it cool. That was a power that I’d mastered a year or so ago and deliberately kept it quiet. "Why would I know that?"
"I think you know about all the things others are able to do and you're constantly trying to learn them, master them. You have ambition that I admire. Sometimes we just require a little push. You know, your father is quite powerful." He tucked his hands into his pockets and waited for me to say something. I didn't. Of course, I knew his power. I'd been a victim of it for fucking years.
"He doesn't think you're worth much. I personally think he's an idiot. You radiate power. Your father thinks you're weak and a disgrace."
My hands clenched at my sides, that all too familiar feeling of anger rising up inside. The man was goading me but my father was always a sore spot for me.
"Interesting man, your father. What kind of man confesses to a stranger that he was the cause of his wife losing one of the twins she carried?" Asrael shook his head and I felt like I was going to throw up. "And what kind of man says he wishes he'd done a better job of beating his wife so that his weak son wouldn't have ever taken a breath?"
My breaths were coming fast; I was a rubber band pulled taut, ready to shoot off at the slightest movement. I deliberately tried not to think about my twin sister who had fallen victim to that monster before she even got a chance at life. This was precisely why I pushed those memories down, it was a hot spot for me that led to nothing productive.Let it out.My anger needed an outlet and since my magic seemed to be closely tied to that particular emotion...
Asrael's eyes tracked the little fireball I dropped and kicked around like it was a hacky sack. When I caught it on the tip of my shoe, I pushed it up into the air and released a breath of heat that hit the orange orb, causing it to crackle and spit. Walking underneath the whirling fireball, I held my hands up and swirled them in a clockwise motion, encouraging the fire to follow. A cyclone was building quickly, and the orange and red flames were quickly turning blue, black, and white.
A quick glance at Asrael showed me he was entranced by what I was doing, but this was nothing. The itchy feeling I'd had before was back and I channeled the discomfort and anger at my father into my magic. My hair was whipping around from the force of the cyclone and I shut my eyes to let my power manifest. With an earth-shaking roar, I crouched on one knee and slammed my fist into the ground. The surge that met the mass above was massive. The roar that I'd just unleashed seconds before paled in comparison to the one that was ripping the sky apart right now.
Landing on my back, I stared up with wide eyes as a huge fucking fire dragon beat its enormous wings and whipped its tail around like a wrecking ball. Scrambling up to my feet, I ran over to Asrael who was still standing in the exact same spot, a sinister grin on his face.
"What the fuck is that!?" I shouted over the growling coming from the beast above.
Asrael tore his gaze from the dragon and met my panicked eyes. I'd never created a gods damned dragon before. The body was a shimmering black that appeared to have magma flowing through its veins. Blue flames engulfed the beast, which made sense because it was made of fire. It wasn’t a real fucking dragon.Right?
