Blood Pledged (Arcane Arts Academy #3) - Elena Lawson Page 0,100
his, sighing my relief.
“He’s alright,” I whispered to the others.
There was the unmistakable shuffle of feet in the other room at my words. Shit, he heard me.
No.
We couldn’t let him get away!
Using the defensive spell I learned only days ago, I blasted a hole in the ward large enough for all of us to pass through, but the magic came out so strong it obliterated the whole thing.
I lunged over Elias’ unconscious body and into the round chamber, blinking into the sudden brightness of the witch light and so many fire-burning torches around the room. The stun sigil I had committed to memory sprang to my fingertips, glowing amber, ready to be wielded. I shouted my fury, searching for him.
“Harper!” Cal shouted, pointing, but I already saw what he was looking at.
In the middle of the room were Kendra… and Marcus.
Neither were conscious. They hung from the ceiling, dangling from invisible strings of magic. Their feet were pointed up and heads positioned toward the floor. Kendra’s hair rippled in the air, making it seem as though they could be suspended in water. But they weren’t.
And that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the blood. Identical wounds marred their necks. The distinct two puncture wounds that were consistent in both murders. Their lifeblood flowed out from the wounds as though drawn on by some unseen force and dripped in a steady stream down to a raised basin below them.
Oh god.
I sprinted, ready to pull them down. Heal them. To stop this madness.
Bianca couldn’t lose anyone else. I wouldn’t allow it. And Kendra didn’t deserve this. Whatever the fuck this was.
My left foot caught in my dress a second before my hand could close around Kendra’s wrist and I tripped, my body knocking into the basin and spilling its bloody contents all over the floor. The warm liquid coated me in a wave of ichor and I gagged. In the same breath, a resounding blast shook the cavernous room, booming in my ears. An attack sigil missed me by mere inches, finding purchase in the stone wall instead.
Little bits of stone dust and rained down onto the ground, coating me in gray debris. I coughed when it got into my lungs, tasting blood on my tongue that I wasn’t sure was my own or from the basin.
“Watch out!” Cal called.
I caught a glint of silver in the light as Draven threw one of his knives, and then another, and then two more at once. Pushing from the ground, I frantically tried to find his target, my bare feet slipping on the blood-slicked floor.
Donovan emerged from the shadows at the back of the chamber, a wide shield blocking Draven’s attacking blades. They’d been disintegrated into black ash on contact. Donovan’s eyes—normally the color of wet sand—were black, as though his pupils had grown so large they ate up any bit of color his eyes may have contained. And his skin—he’d already been pale, but this was more than paleness. He looked dead, the pallor of his flesh almost greenish, waxen.
I made the connection in my mind as I hauled the magic I would need to defeat him up into my core, dropping the dams and allowing it to flow full force. He was a dark witch. This was blood magic. Whatever else he was doing to the students, it was clear he was trying to collect their blood. For what malicious purpose was beyond my ability to comprehend.
All I knew was that it was over now. I was putting an end to it.
Cal and Adrian shifted in midair as they ran to take up positions on either side of me, their hackles raised, snarling, and chomping at the bit to attack. Wait, I commanded through our bond.
If that shield he was using could disintegrate metal to ash, I shuddered to think what it could do to flesh and bone. Hold.
It had to be me who ended this. Magic against magic. This wasn’t a fight my familiars could win for me. And though Draven was faster than anything I’d ever seen, all it would take was one misstep and he would be added to piles of ash at Donovan’s feet.
“Foolish girl,” Donovan bellowed. “Do you not know what you have done?”
What I have done?
The stun sigil came back into my hand, but Donovan had crafted a sigil of his own, and it perched, glowing bright scarlet and pulsing with ribbons of black, over his clawed fingers.