Page 82 of Black Onyx
“What?”
“Touch him. There’s no point having an illusion to hide the fact that someone is actually alive unless it can be verified by officials,” I explain.
Somewhat sceptically, Mayhem reaches forward and then almost immediately jerks his hand back and looks up at me in awe, which prompts the rest of them to reach down and touch it, too, being careful not to let go of each other and subsequently me.
“Holy fucking shit balls, batman,” Loki exclaims as he keeps prodding the body.
“Farren, that is truly amazing. How much scrutiny can it withstand?” Mayhem asks curiously.
I’m well aware that we’re completely off track from the original conversation, but it feels good to share, and there’s nothing particularly pressing we have to get back to. It took much less time than I thought it would.
“Almost all, but if something gets someone curious, then it will dissipate with absolutely no magical trace, and by that point, the original is alive, and everyone assumes it was a delayed ashing.”
“Wow,” Rival mutters as they all stare at me like I’ve done something truly remarkable.
Mayhem clears his throat and nods down to the body. “That isn’t an illusion. I’m not sure what it is, but it's far too complex and real to be an illusion. Even a strong one wouldn’t be able to be touched without the magical strands breaking down and revealing it to be an illusion.”
“What?” I ask, dumbfounded and trying to process what he’s telling me.
“It’s most likely something to do with your Weaver abilities. There hasn’t been one for such a long time that we don’t really know what your abilities are.” Rival adds, making Mayhem nod along.
“We can help you find out when we get a chance back at the academy if you’d like?” Mayhem asks.
“Yes, please, any information would be helpful. I’m flying blind when it comes to that gift.”
“How do you get rid of it if it doesn’t dissipate by itself?” Rival asks the others listening to the conversation intently.
“I thank it,” I reply.
“You what?” Loki asks, his nose wrinkling in the cutest way.
“Like this,” I gesture to the body, “thank you for your service. You may depart, friend.”
The body disappears in a fog of black glitter, like always, and I look up to grin at the guys. I’ve never shown anyone that trick, and I’m pretty damn proud of it. I met with white faces, silence and pure shock.
“What?”
“You can take this one, brother,” Storm mutters, slapping Killian on the shoulder.
“You weren’t speaking Fae, you weren’t speaking any language I’ve ever heard, and your eyes were completely black, your pupils glowing gold,” he tells me bluntly.
I stare and stare and try to comprehend what they’re telling me. I was speaking English.
“I said, thank you for your service. You may depart, friend,” I repeat.
“Still not any language we know, Love,” Loki says, looking part fascinated and also slightly freaked.
“Well, fuck.” I curse and then add, “please tell me that was Fae?”
“Yes, Darling, it was. Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” Killian reassures me.
“Come on, let's get back. I want my bed,” Storm says, effectively ending the conversation, and I start forward, my mind spinning.
My thoughts should probably be on the fact that I just murdered my father, but I’m unaffected by that. The man made my life and countless others hell. He is a murderer of so many that he deserves his fate. No, my thoughts are on the revelations that have just occurred and the fact that the guys are staying and treating me the same so far. As we approach the doorway back to our room, I can’t help but think that things are starting to look up. The main threat to my life is gone, the Headmaster is going to be replaced by Uncle Magnus, and I’ve got the guys.
As we step through the door though, I curse myself for being so optimistic; I should’ve known better.
“Is that what I think it is?” Loki asks, staring at the purple flames hanging in the middle of the lounge and spelling out the words;Your first trial starts now.
