Page 99 of Wrongfully Magicked
This has to go right, or I risked everyone’s lives for nothing.
Porter cups the back of my neck, his grip just short of painful as he forces my head back, leaving me no choice but to look up at him. His shadows slink along my skin, sinking into my hair, their presence comforting. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”
It’s a vow.
Before I can protest that it’s them I’m worried about, his mouth descends for a short, hard kiss that scrambles my thoughts and steals my soul.
It also effectively distracts me from my downward spiral.
Heat floods my face when he pulls back, leaving me more than a little flustered, and it’s all I can do not to grab the front of his shirt to drag him back and demand more.
I awkwardly clear my throat, wishing it was as easy to clear my thoughts. “Er, so, um, the rest of us will take the truck to the front entrance. My family will have plenty of time to gather intel on your group. Cassius will carry me. They shouldn’t question it if you tell them that it’s your venomous touch keeping me sedated. It will force my family to keep their distance from you and buy the guys some time to find Charlotte.
“Whatever you do, don’t interfere if my family gets physical with me.” I point my finger at Porter, Cassius, and Soren to emphasize my point. “Remember, they need me alive for their contact with the demon to be valid, not to mention we need the extra time for Soren to search for the demon contract. You said you should be able to sense it, yes?”
I can’t believe the absurd words coming out of my mouth. Who in their right mind makes a deal with a demon?
Then again, if anyone thought they could work with a demon and get away with it, it would be my family.
Soren grunts, clearly not happy with that part of the plan, but he doesn’t protest. “Yes, if it’s in the same room, I should be able to sense the demonic magic.”
“Any questions?” I look at everyone crowded into the back of the van, and my chest tightens when I realize how much they have come to mean to me in such a short amount of time. They are more my family than the people in the mansion beyond, and I’m determined to do whatever is necessary to ensure they get out of this alive.
“Nope,” Gwen says, popping the P loudly in the silence. She slouches back into her seat with a droll look, settling her threaded fingers behind her head. “Confront your cock-sucking family, rescue the girl, fight off a demon, and get out alive—piece of cake.”
CASSIUS
We pull up to the mansion at the appointed time, the truck engine roaring, and it’s all I can do not to demand Porter stomp on the gas and get us the fuck out of here. It’s only Anita’s slight weight in my lap that has me clenching my teeth to keep the words from escaping.
If Porter’s white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel is any indication, he’s battling the same impulse. Soren shifts in the backseat, unable to remain still, the scent of burnt leather and plastic wafting from him. As we approach the estate, the gates open, and we drive through, sealing our fate.
Static from the wards dances across my skin, the pressure clamping down harder and harder with each second until my beast is bound tightly. I never resented my basilisk, the beast a part of my very essence, but the isolation can be crushing at times—never touching anyone else or looking someone in their eyes has taken its toll over the years. I became someone everyone feared. Over time, I came to relish my abilities because they gave me the power to hunt monsters like myself.
I should be pleased that my basilisk is suppressed, pleased to be normal for a few minutes, yet the thought of my abilities being taken when I need them most is terrifying. When I test my powers, the sweet taste of venom floods my mouth, and I release a shuddering breath.
Thank fuck!
The thought of being totally helpless is abhorrent.
I test my shift next. Though my claws lengthen slightly, it’s a struggle, which means that while I might not be able to shift, I still have limited use of my abilities.
It will have to be enough.
The first view of the mansion is impressive—manicured lawns, walled security, and a battalion of guards, not to mention a fucking fountain out front that is bigger than our truck. The backyard has a full garden, an Olympic-sized pool, a tennis court, and a damned twelve-car garage.
As if I need any more proof that Anita was used to a different lifestyle than the rest of us mere mortals.
It’s not like she treats anyone as if she believes she’s better than them. No, it’s in the way she holds herself, the way she looks at a person, the way she speaks. She has a quality that marks her as untouchable to those of us who were raised in the slums.
Yet from the report Darby compiled, things aren’t as they appear. I would scoff if anyone else claimed they survived hell while living in such a luxurious place, but the way Anita trembles in my arms tells me a different story.
There is no faking the terror oozing from her at being returned to her family.
Three dozen armed guards swarm our vehicle, weapons aimed, spells swirling around them, closing off any avenue of escape.
It’s not the welcome home I was expecting.
I adjust my dark sunglasses, tempted to rip them off. They feel tight and uncomfortable, dulling the world around me and stealing my senses. I didn’t realize how much I hated them until Anita showed me how freeing it was to go without them. She’s the first one who ever looked at me without fear, and it’s addicting.
