Night Witch (Weatherstone College, #2)(86)

Drawing on the flickers of magic left in my center, I tried to reach out for the creatures, but there were just too many. It would require more magic than I’d ever held, even before they had drained me within an inch of my life. “Kill her!” a council-witch shouted. “Rid us of this scum, and the demons will leave.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Belle said, sounding panicked. “If she’s our one chance to control them, maybe we should—”

I was yanked out of her hold, and Elder Monroe had me once more. “You’ll thank me for this one day, sweetheart.” He started to mutter random jumbles of words, before adding, “You’ll thank me for the sacrifices I’ve made to keep you safe.”

Amazing sentiment. I loved when killers justified their evil actions by claiming they were to keep others safe.

Belle screamed as he wrenched me across the stage and slammed my head against a hard object. I was too drained to put up any fight, barely keeping my eyes open. “Remove her head,” a witch said. “Byron will call fire so there’s no mistakes. Slice right through.”

A surge of energy sent a shock into my limbs as fight or flight kicked in, but it wasn’t enough.

“Paisley!” Logan bellowed his rage, and I felt the brush of his power through our bond.

But we were both too drained.

What they’d done to my magic had impacted Logan’s as well, and he’d been fighting dozens of spellcasters and council members from the moment they struck me with their power.

Flames caressed my cheeks, and as I sank into myself, I prayed that my execution would end all of this at least. It would be comforting to know my death would save lives, but a part of me was pretty sure that wasn’t going to be the case.

There was an excellent chance that with my demise, the joining of the planes would be a permanent fixture, and the magical world would find out what a life without any reaper witches was really like.

The fire increased, and as the witch gave the order to strike, I sent my magic deeper into my essence than I’d ever been. I had no idea what I was searching for in the empty depths of my magical well, but in my last seconds I held on to that feeling of familial magic I’d experienced in the crypt with Gran. If there had been more reapers here today, we could have dealt with the council. A united affinity.

Come on, Gran. I really need your help.

The tiniest spark of blue flame surged in my chest, and I wrapped my essence around it.

Right as the fire-wielding warlock sliced through my neck to remove my head, those flames engulfed me, and everything went dark.





Chapter 41





Logan


Spellcasters poured onto the stage as I fought to get to Paisley. These assholes had this well planned, knowing I’d destroy any witch or warlock who stood between me and my mate.

There were multiple spellcasters waiting in the wings to take me down. Marcus, Connor, and Sergei approached me from the right, leaving Danielle and another guy I didn’t know circling from the left.

“You might be the most powerful,” Marcus said, his energy arcing between his hands in small bolts of lightning, “but we have the numbers. She’s not worth dying for, bro. No pussy is worth dying for.”

This arrogant asshole was the one who was going to die today. I’d been wanting to take him down ever since he put his hands on my girl. Mine. My. Fucking. Girl.

The other spellcasters had Paisley, which meant I couldn’t drag out this fight; I’d waited what felt like a lifetime to claim my mate, and no one was taking her from me today.

Smashing through the first row of spellcasters, I pushed more and more power with each blast, while also strengthening my shielding. I let free a crack of lightning focused on Marcus.

Two warlocks had to die today no matter what else happened: Marcus and Monroe.

No mercy.

My magical attack scattered the other spellcasters, but they used air to shoot themselves to their feet almost instantly. Marcus didn’t get up, and I ripped through him with a blast of fire, muttering a short spell to ensure that it would burn for at least the next twenty minutes with no chance of quenching.

I left the spellcaster screaming on the floor—there was no time to confirm he was dead, but even if he wasn’t, he would suffer greatly.

Darkness split my vision as Paisley’s power spilled from her. The monsters had filled the assembly hall, students screamed and started racing through the aisles to try to escape. Using Earth energy, I ruptured the ground and sucked all remaining spellcasters into the abyss before they could offer a counterattack. The stage was restructured above them in another whispered spell, and even though they’d free themselves in a few minutes, I had enough time to get to Paisley.

More spellcasters entered the assembly hall, late-arriving backup. I recognized many from the wars in Europe. Apparently, the meeting with the council had gone so well that they were now working for them.

Racing across the stage, witches and warlocks got in my way. To their own pain.

A burst of power knocked everyone back, and I glanced over the assembly hall to see even more monsters spilling into the room.

Fuck. This day was going from bad to death.

Students screamed, but my focus was internal on the ragged nature of Paisley’s magic. She was there, but no more than a wisp, like the time she almost faded in my arms. The air practically glittered with magic as professors and students tried to fight the creatures, but they weren’t powerful enough to do much more than hold them back before dying.