THIRTY-EIGHT
Quin kept his word, never again leaving Layla to train without him, but he couldn’t make himself participate as a challenger in the advanced runs, so when she practiced levels three and four, he had someone take his place, and he would enter the simulated run with her, making sure she made it out alive.
The first time she ran a level four, she tested his composure by bloodying her nose and breaking a finger, and her second attempt resulted in a fractured arm, which earned them an afternoon off to let Skyla’s healing magic set.
Layla was more cautious throughout the next few sessions, sticking to the lower levels while using different challengers to widen the variety of spells, but once she was running the three-minute course with ease, she advanced to level four, which once again kicked her ass. Nevertheless, she returned day after day, determined to conquer every challenge her allies threw at her, for only then would she be able to withstand the enemies’ assault.
She continued the meet and greets at the butterfly sanctuary, devoting three mornings a week to strangers, and every time someone asked her for a favor, she added it to a to-do list. With the help of family back home, she’d already marked off a few of the tasks, and the news quickly travelled back to Maganthia, prompting locals to send her thank you cards and gifts. She’d also received a cake and flowers from the Low-Tier shopkeeper who’d sold her magical coloring books, which Benzio loved, promising to read them to the triplets at nap time.
Layla and Quin tried to make time every day to snap a photo of themselves to send to their kids, and they usually took it right after gushing over the pictures downloaded during Bryce’s daily trips to Avasummus.
When they weren’t training, catering to the public or corresponding with their family, Layla and Quin kept their noses in books and their ears tuned in to city gossip.
Though they had yet to discover how Ava ended up with the starburst stone, they’d learned that upon her death, it was supposed to be passed to Willa’s kids, but there was no record of them ever claiming ownership, and it wasn’t among the estate they left behind. The stone wasn’t seen for decades, until the death of a renowned Maganthian builder, who left no explanation as to how such a treasure had come into his possession; only a last will and testament donating Ava’s Eye to the city’s history museum with strict instructions that it be kept in a sealed vault that would only open once every twenty-five years, at which time the gem was to be displayed in a high-security exhibit for a single day.
The curious instructions merely added to the mystery and intrigue of the gem, as did the numerous rumors that surrounded it. One of the most popular theories claimed Ava’s Eye was the world’s strongest divination tool, able to show its owner terrifyingly clear visions of the future; and yet another legend told of a love affair between Ava and the Maker, who scorned her with his disinterest in the world he created, so she plucked out his eye, turned it to stone and overthrew his rule, thereby sparking the hierarchy ascension. The wild tale conflicted with Ava’s own accounts of her time on earth and was widely disputed by magical historians. But lasting myths were woven with truths, so Brietta and Kegan spent much of their time in the Buried Library, reading rumor after rumor regarding the stones, searching for any logical reason Alec would steal them. Perhaps knowing his motivation would help them find him.
Contrary to Ava’s Eye, Willa’s Tears were easy to track through the ages, though several had been lost or stolen over the years, and they weren’t as entrenched in scandal. How they’d formed in the LucDre wasteland was their biggest mystery, and though they were displayed and studied far more often than the elusive Ava’s Eye, magical scientists had failed to replicate their structure or discover the key to their composition. Since they were fairly accessible, they didn’t spark too many legends or rumors, so Layla and her allies agreed Ava’s Eye was the guild’s primary target.
While Brietta and Kegan studied stones, Aradia and Banning focused on the armor and had tracked it all the way back to around 2000 B.C. in the Mesopotamia region. The evidence had been taken from the Babylonian Empire before its fall and came in the form of a scroll that had no written explanation, just a faded painting, most likely created by a magician given its age and quality, that depicted the aftermath of a battle. It focused on a man in the masculine armor, kneeling over a limp woman, who could have been fast asleep, but was probably dead.
Layla couldn’t help but notice that almost all the evidence regarding the armor involved witches who’d died or mysteriously vanished, and she knew Quin had noticed, too. But neither of them discussed it, and they tried not to dwell on it. The closest she got to comparing herself to those witches was her attempt to prove they were earth angels, but there wasn’t enough information on them to do so.
Layla wondered if she, too, would someday become a vague blip in the Buried Library. Then she realized she didn’t care. She didn’t need to be remembered, and the mark she’d leave on Quin’s heart would be more powerful than a mountain of words.
After failing to prove the armor was connected to angels, Layla failed to find a case in which two people shared a pulse by touching, so she searched for witness accounts of a magician’s heart beating supernaturally fast. This took her through piles and piles of unrelated medical journals, research papers and case files, and just as she was about to move on, she found a passage that was as familiar as it was horrifying.
She’d discovered the evidence in an exposé on the mystifying fall of a magical settlement in ancient Asia. Among the artifacts recovered from the ruins was a diary so charred and damaged only a partial entry remained legible enough to translate, and Layla read it in the stillness of the library, hunched beneath flickering candlelight.
From which side of the veil did she spring? How I wish the answer would make itself known, for I am in a constant state of internal conflict. Her allure cannot be overstated. My devotion is not blind, for I see the shackles, shackles I cannot break. My service to her is as vital as the air I breathe. Whatever she requires, I must provide or I, too, will suffer. Whatever she desires, I must fulfill so that I, too, may experience joy. Yet I indulge at a cost. Daily, I risk my life. Now I fear I risk my soul. My obsession has two faces, and one of them puts the fear of Dreagan in me. I will never forget the night I met her. The heavenly woman I have come to worship was wounded, and in her rage, a different witch appeared, her eyes as black as the ocean deep. She crushed her enemies with hardened muscles and maniacal magic. Then she turned her malevolent gaze toward me. I believed that was the end, that I would perish for the faith I have placed in an earthbound spirit of unknown origins. I have seen beyond the beautiful visage. Now I fear what lies beneath. A gift from the Heavens? Or something much darker? She has not harmed innocents, nor has she set her wrath on me. Would it matter if she had? For her, I would open a vein, yet I do not fully understand why. She is not of this world, neither the sweet surface nor the terror inside. Her unnatural pulse proves this. In this shell of a woman, lies an inhuman heart that can beat so swiftly I cannot detect a respite. At times, I wish it would stop beating my name, for nothing frightens me more than the certainty that I would plunge into Dreagan’s wasteland for a creature I cannot identify or deny. Whatever she is, wherever she is from, she will be the death of me.
Layla remained breathless throughout the passage, chilled to the bone and weighted with dread, and unlike the crazy woman in the diary, her heart barely beat. But she’d been there before – pulse out of control, muscles hard enough to ricochet blades, and a deadly, black stare that often signaled the end for the unfortunate souls it found.
Layla was so absorbed in her discovery she didn’t notice Quin’s approach, and she nearly fell out of her chair when he touched her shoulder. Snapping the book shut, she insisted she was fine. Then she returned the exposé to the librarian, anxious to leave it behind.
That night, Quin followed their recent routine of delving into one of the blood magic books before bed, but Layla didn’t enthusiastically join him like usual. Instead, she pulled the book from his hands. Then she sent it away while taking its place, desperate to show him she wasn’t a monster.
By the beginning of March, Layla could conquer every level four gauntlet her allies could throw at her, so as she climbed into bed after a long and successful day, she made a decision that lit up Quin’s face and aura. “I’m going to take a break Thursday.”
His gorgeous eyes widened. “Really?”
“Yeah. It’s my birthday.” Possibly her last. “I’d like to spend it doing things I want to do, not things I have to do.”
He wrapped her in a hug and rolled her onto his chest. “I support this decision one hundred percent.”
She giggled as she kissed his heart. “I have no doubt.”
He gathered her hair in one hand while sliding the other down her back. “What do you want to do for your birthday?”
“Hang out with you.”
He grinned. “Perfect.”
“I don’t want to go into the business district or out to eat. We can share a meal with our family, but I’d rather do it here, out by the spring or something. Keep it simple. Then maybe we can take a trip to the edge of the dome and investigate that hum I keep hearing.”
“Sounds fun.”
“You’re not disappointed I don’t want to go out?”
“Why would I be?”
“You like taking me out.”
“I do, but I like staying in even more. I’ve already shown you around and taken you to the lagoon, so I don’t feel like I’m missing out.”
“Me neither.”
“Then we’ll spend your birthday away from the public eye.”
“That’s exactly what I want – a casual gathering with our coven members and Wey. And Timber if he wants to come. We should probably extend an invitation to Tristan and Emrys, as well. Oh, and Diamond and her granddaughters. But no decorations or singing happy birthday.”
“I’m on board, but I can’t control Brietta.”
Layla laughed while resting her forehead in the groove between his pecs. “I know, just don’t encourage her shenanigans.”
His chest lightly shook. “I won’t tell her you said shenanigans, because that would definitely encourage her.” He pulled her up his body and kissed her lips. Then he rolled her into one arm and tucked her into his side. “Now I’m excited.”
“For my birthday?”
“Yeah. I didn’t want you working through it. For years, I’ve opened my eyes to the third of March wishing you were there with me. That wish is finally coming true, and I’d do just about anything for the opportunity to savor it.”
Her heart warmed as a smile pinched her cheeks. “Now I’m excited.”
He laughed while going in for another kiss. Then he reached toward the nightstand, retrieving a joint and the book they’d been reading. They’d finished Blood Magic for Beginners and A Condensed History of Blood Magic, but they were only one chapter into A Beginner’s Guide to Blood Magic in the Bedroom.
Quin lit the herb as he found their bookmark. Then he hovered the open pages above them while giving her a hit of the weed. “I have to admit, I was ignorant about blood magic before we started these.”
“So you’re not upset I got them?”
“Not at all. I prefer to be informed.”
“Have they changed your opinion of it?”
“Yes. I have a much better understanding of how and why people use it, but they haven’t convinced me to do it with you.”
“Because you don’t want me to bleed?”
“That’s a big part of it, yes. It’s a selfish indulgence no matter how you spin it. Whether you use it for good or bad or to get high, it comes at a cost, and I don’t want you paying it.”
“You’d bleed for me.”
“In a heartbeat.”
“Then I could just give back what I take.”
“Hmm… I won’t lie. The thought of literally getting a piece of you turns me on. Just feel for yourself.”
She reached down, finding him solid enough to tent the blankets, and she couldn’t stifle her giggle, but he wasn’t the least bit shy or embarrassed.
“And that’s just thinking about it,” he continued. “To actually have a portion of your power and spirit pumping through my veins would probably make me explode. In a very good way. But I still can't justify accepting divine blood that isn’t mine, let alone cutting open an angel to get it.”
“It says it will work even if I make the cut.”
“That wouldn’t be much better. I love your body and hate seeing it mutilated.”
“So what would justify it?”
“Saving your life, or saving our kids’ lives. Beyond that, I can’t think of a cause worthy enough to condone your bloodshed.”
“What if I asked you to?”
He tucked his chin in and found her eyes. “Are you asking?”
“No.”
“Then I have more time to research and consider my answer.”
“That’s fair.”
“I want to make you happy, love.”
“You do. I love that you want to protect my body, and I admire your strong convictions. You’re my hero.”
“I want to be.”
“You are. Now let’s stop worrying about this and keep learning about it. Our opinions could still change.”
He warmly smiled as he kissed her nose. Then he vanished the herb and summoned a bowl of strawberries, feeding her one as they silently read at an identical pace.