Page 73 of Guardians of the Assassins
Shade drew her attention when he spoke again. “Wherever you consider the center of the coven. Concentrate on what you want done. Your magic is an extension of yourself. Just focus your intent for it to manifest.”
She always considered the people the heart of the coven.
And they made their home in the old house. Even thoughthey only lived there a short time, it held pieces of each of them, coming alive with their love and laughter. Almost in a trance, she headed up the stairs, her legs trembling under the strain.
Blood speckled the ground as she walked toward the door, the stones eagerly absorbing the drops. The flaked paint on the door was now smooth and unblemished, the warped door now standing strong. She lifted her injured arm toward the door, her muscles feeling like they were being pulled apart.
Power settled in her bones and throbbed like an angry toothache.
Every inch of her hurt.
With blood dripping from her fingertip, she focused on doing whatever it would take to keep not just her mates safe, but everyone in the coven. A rune formed slowly in her mind, and she moved her hand, following the intricate design.
Since her magic was no longer bound, she didn’tneedto use the runes. But Shade was correct—they helped her focus her magic. She liked the comfort of the ritual. She didn’t have the training other witches received at birth, which made her abilities unstable and unpredictable at times.
She was getting better, but she wouldn’t risk their safety on a whim.
She had to get this right.
By the time she finished, the door was liberally painted in blood. It wasn’t just one symbol, but dozens of them overlapping one over the other.
Knowing that this was going to hurt like a bitch, she pressed her hand with the injured arm against the door.
Things happened differently this time.
Faster.
Before she even had time to call her magic, it snapped and crackled down her arm like lightning, eager to be used. It thundered out of her in a wave so strong that her back bowed and her mouth opened on a silent scream.
The magic hit the door all at once with a bright flash of light, the blood on the door and the symbols on her body flaring brightred, glowing in the dark night. The injury on her arm seared shut in a vomit inducing second. The power shimmered over the symbols on the door like catching fire, chasing one rune after another until a ghostly image of them danced like smoke in front of her.
When she sucked in a startled breath, the smoke filled her mouth and nose, then snaked down her chest until it felt like she’d inhaled pure fire. The rest of the smoke plumed against the surface of the house like a cloud of dust, then began to creep across the surface like it had a mind of its own.
As it spread, the smoke she inhaled was spilling through her body, pulling out every ounce of her magic and transferring it to the house. The smoke consumed the house, the outside looking like it had been painted with void magic. A vast night sky swirled into existence and covered every inch of her home. The star-studded images began to soak into the seams and ridges of the house. The door under her hand rippled and bucked, the wood warping as the surface bubbled and contorted.
The image of a massive wolf pushed through the center of the door until she was faced with a snarling wolf in the shape of a door knocker. The doorframe was decorated with images of wolves running and playing and howling at the moon.
The ancient magic of the house hummed under her touch in welcome, lifting its massive head like she’d woken a giant beast from a nap. She’d swear she could almost hear it speak, but the words were too indistinct to understand. She swayed, struggling to remain conscious as it felt like the last bit of her magic left her in a rush.
The tattoo of the phoenix low on her spine wiggled and squirmed as it began to peel itself off her skin. A bright ball of light and fire swirled around her, before slamming into the house and shattering in an explosion of sparks that threatened to blind her.
Lightheaded and dizzy, she staggered back, then teetered on the top step. Before she could tumble down the stairs, every single one of her mates rushed and bounded up the steps, easilycatching her. The strength had been carved out of her, leaving even her bones feeling hollow and achy.
It was all she could do to remain conscious.
The guys didn’t speak as they dragged her away from the steps, each of them fussing over her. When she got a look at the house, she understood their unease. The magic rippled out from the door and slowly crawled over the surface of the house, transforming the building in its wake.
Siding buckled, wood rippled, bricks morphed until it looked like a fierce, modern fortress. The wolf motif spread, but more and more creatures could be seen beneath the surface—gargoyles, fairies, basilisk, chimera, gorgon, bogies, gryphons, even a fucking unicorn, and so many more were hidden in the wood that couldn’t be seen unless you stared long enough.
Like the coven was a beacon of peace and protection for any race that needed it.
Above the door was a majestic image of a phoenix, his wings spread wide, his long tail flaring behind him. Morgan still felt the connection to the creature, the two of them bound together on an elemental level that had kept them both alive. While her affinity for fire remained, the little beast was now free.
A small chirp had her jerking her head up, and she saw a little bird perched on a railing—a phoenix!
His wings were no longer drab, the feathers holding a metallic sheen of pure fire that shimmered when the light hit it. Bright reds, golds, and yellows sparkled like it caught fire, and Morgan felt the heat trail down her spine where he’d rested for so long.
With another chirp, the little bird launched into the air, swirling and swooping at the freedom, soaring high before diving into a large octagon dormer window to the attic, clearly claiming the space for his own.
