The Ravenous Dark, page 31
"He was just over there." She pointed to the dark hall leading to the locker room. "But he's gone now. If we find him—"
"We can unmask him," Jax said with surprising intensity. "I've a few things I'd like to say to the culprit."
Bailey snorted and shook her head ruefully, thinking of all her confrontations with the shadowmancer. "Get in line."
Jasmine’s shrill scream stole back the pair's attention as Deval hauled her away from the fight. The vampyré struggled valiantly in his hold, enough to draw several loud curses from Deval at her stubbornness.
And then she bit him.
Deval snarled and thrust her from him with enough force to send her skidding back several feet. He hissed as he inspected the injury. A nasty chunk of skin and tendon was torn from his forearm. Blood spilled profusely from the wound.
The arena and all its players came to a standstill as the hybrid's blistering gaze rose to meet hers. He released a shuddering growl as Jasmine met his glare with one of equal vehemence. There came a shift in the air. A rippling of magic that drew every spine straight and prickled the skin.
Enzo's focus had shifted to Deval—and the hybrid was none-the-wiser, locked in a battle of wills with Jasmine.
Sebastian shouted a warning to him as he aimed a punch at Enzo, but the possessed man wasn't as single-minded as Sebastian had thought. His shouted warning turned into one of gruff surprise as he was ruthlessly tossed to the side. His momentum was used against him to its fullest potential.
"Shit." Bailey looked anxiously at Jax. "Forget the shadowmancer. Do something!"
Jax's lips pinched; his arms held at the ready with his walking cane to cast a spell that never came. "I can't," he grunted. His good eye tracked the rapid-fire movements of Jakob and Enzo with a growing frown. "They're moving too fast. I might hit Jakob."
Deval joined the brawl, nearly taking Enzo to the ground as they collided.
Bailey raked her hands through her hair. "Can you do something?"
Raphael blinked at the sudden address. "If I can get my hands on them, I can make them kiss and make up? Turn all that energy into sexual energy. Everyone likes a good fuck after a fight."
"No," Bailey said, face flushing.
A savage smile lit up Raphael's face. It made Bailey's heart skip a beat and her flush grow unexpectedly. Her heart and soul might belong to Ronan, but there was no denying Raphael made her feel something.
Wanted, her mind filled in hollowly.
Raphael winked at her. "Don't knock it till you try it, love."
Bailey calmed her flush with a swift mental scolding. You’re not so desperate for attention to blush from a demon’s flittering. Bailey sent him a short scowl.
"Then what are you waiting in the wings for if you can't contribute to the fight—other than turning people on?"
"I can fight," he argued. Bailey snorted, and Raphael's eyes hardened. "Looks can be deceiving."
Before Bailey could offer a retort, Deval and Enzo's interaction came to an end, with the former knocked down with a nasty right hook. Enzo spun in a tight circle, the bulging veins of the rabidus curse undulating like worms on his skin. He spotted Jasmine and took a step in her direction.
"Enzo, wait!" Jasmine backpedaled. Her visage of anger wiped away in favor of horror. "It's me."
Her plea fell on deaf ears.
Enzo shuffled toward her, his body beginning to shake as the crowd came alive, demanding more blood. Jasmine's gaze passed frightfully between Enzo and the merciless crowd before her courage returned. She stopped and steeled herself, jaw set as she glared at Enzo.
The audience took to its feet. Their riotous demands were met as blood splattered unceremoniously onto Jasmine's face. Hand and heart burst through Enzo's chest, stopping his unhinged prowl, and then both snapped back a moment later.
Jasmine's mouth dropped open in a gasp as Enzo's lifeless body crumpled to the ground, leaving Deval in his wake.
"You," she snarled over the cacophony of the crowd's delight. Several people exited the stands in a beeline for Deval. Jakob was helping Sebastian from the pits, leaving Deval alone to face the mob and Jasmine's anger. Bailey exchanged wide-eyed glances with Jax and Raphael. She began to approach but was stopped by a hand on her arm. She glanced at Raphael, but he merely shook his head.
"You're welcome," Deval said, voice ringing out clear as he tossed the heart to the ground.
Jasmine's eyes flashed red. "You are a menace to this court, Deval Vrana." Her voice was low and poignant, soaked in fresh grief and blood. Deval met her gaze somberly, lips pressed together in a thin line.
"He couldn't be saved," Deval reasoned. "You could."
"You didn't even try to save him!" Her furious condemnation silenced the crowd.
Deval's shoulders sank. He took a step toward Jasmine, but she took two hasty ones back.
"I'm—"
"Don't," she seethed, body trembling. Her glare had the power to scorch the earth. "First, my Hugo, and now Enzo?" She paused to collect herself, but by the time she'd done so, one of the fawning courtiers cut in.
"Did you hear that? Looks like all the men in Jasmine's life are cursed to have their hearts ripped out! She’s a regular black widow!" Uproarious laughter catapulted from every direction. Jasmine's trembling increased as she wiped Enzo's blood from her face, eyes turning glassy. "Better watch out, Deval, or you'll be next!"
Another round of laughter. Jasmine pinned Deval with one last heated glare before she fled, leaving the courtiers to steamroll him with their hearty congratulations. Others aimed for the pit where Sebastian and Jakob remained, taking stock of each other's injuries and forcing Bailey and the men to move back.
"I guess this means the Delacroix failed," Raphael drawled.
Bailey turned to him in surprise. "You heard about that?"
He nodded and led the three in a generous arc around the crowd back to their seats. "Just before we made our way in."
Bailey looked at Delacroix's private box. It was empty. A sense of unease fluttered through her as she swept her gaze back to the courtiers preening for the Vrana's attention.
"Will this help Irina's cause or hurt it?" she asked Jax.
He frowned, steering his gaze to the Vrana's box. They watched as a few of the Krovopuskovs left, Irina's face taut. "I don't know," he confessed. "But I'm sure we'll find out soon enough."
Soon was exactly three nights after the pit fight. With every hour passed, Bailey's worry grew on top of her already tumultuous emotions from being separated from Ronan. She was on her way to check on Stella when she came across a small gathering of supernaturals crowded near a wall. She squeezed herself in among them, eyes running over the paper stuck to the wall.
By Royal Decree
Royal Households Delacroix, Roux, and Vrana, in standing with the counsel of Major Household Heads, do decree any contracted sorcerers or sorcerer clans that so wish to remain within the Dark Court must abide by the following restrictions:
Sorcerers may not practice magic in public spaces.
Sorcerers may not congregate in groups larger than three outside of their apartments.
The sale of all potions, elixirs, enchantments, and hexes must be registered and approved by the counsel of Major Household Heads.
Additionally, a daylight curfew is now in effect for all sorcerers. Any sorcerer caught outside their apartment during daylight will be expelled from the court.
The restrictions may be lifted once the illegal possession of vampyrés by means of dark magic ceases and/or the Shadowmancer is captured and brought to justice. To this extent, any individual courtier(s) caught with dark magic will be held before a jury of their peers and punished accordingly.
Those gathered spoke in a rush voicing their concerns and approval in equal measure. They buzzed in Bailey's ear like white noise as she stepped away from the group.
She'd prepared herself for this possibility, but it stung more than she anticipated and filled her with worry anew.
If they're willing to place restrictions on the sorcerers, what's to stop them from coming after the rest of the shifters or demons? Her eyebrows catapulted down in a jarring frown. Can the Lunar Court withstand this kind of political assault?
A dark cloud followed her all the way to Stella's. Bailey caught herself glaring unnecessarily at passing courtiers. When one couple went out of their way to avoid her path, she forced herself to stop and take several deep breaths.
"It's the soulmark," Bailey mumbled to herself. "It's exaggerating every other emotion you have. Chill out."
She rapped her knuckles against her forehead in agitation as her volatile emotions refused to calm. Her heartbeat picked up speed the longer the moment stretched. Her inability to settle brought to light her countless other failures.
"Don't go there," she scolded herself waspishly, drawing curious stares from the few courtiers who walked the hall and a few whispered words. There was sure to be talk of her mad ramblings within the hour.
Three nights, she marveled with increasing fear. Three nights away from him, and I'm reduced to this.
Her soulmark ached and resonated effortlessly through the rest of her being. Bailey groaned but straightened. Shoving her hands in her pocket, she strode stiffly the remaining distance to Stella's apartment door. A light sweat clung to the nape of her neck as she managed to put a stopper on her swelling emotions.
She knocked sharply on the door.
"Who is it?" Stella called from inside.
"Bailey."
Several snicks and hard-hammered clicks sounded in cannon as locks were dismantled before the door swung open. Bailey blinked at the sight that greeted her.
"You cut your hair."
Stella opened the door a little wider, stepping aside to allow Bailey entrance as her eyes darted to the near-empty hall behind her. "I had trouble getting the blood out the other night," she said. Her voice was cool and composed. Bailey envied it and tempered her expression to something more congenial. Stella smiled softly. "So, I cut it. It's not even all the way around, but I don't think I did too terribly."
Bailey made a circle with her finger after Stella closed the door. "Let's see."
She paused as Stella spun slowly, her hand dancing upward to pat the ends of her snowy hair self-consciously. Her hair ended at her shoulders, for the most part. She managed to keep the line well enough running along the back, though some places were shorter than others.
"Not bad."
"Thanks." Stella blushed and then bustled over to her small kitchenette in the front corner of her apartment. "Do you want something to drink? Water? Wine? I might have whiskey."
"No thanks, I can't stay long. I've got a job with the Wildings."
Since the pit fight, she'd been stuffing her nights with Wilding tasks hoping to fill the void Ronan's presence left. It worked for the most part, but he was never truly far from her mind. A spark of indignation flared to life in her. She still couldn't figure out how he was avoiding her so effortlessly. Twice in the past three nights, she felt his nearby presence through the soulmark, only for him to be nowhere in sight when she rounded a corner or opened a door.
Bailey bit the inside of her cheek to bring herself back into the present as Stella poured herself a glass of water. She casually inspected the small room while Stella drank.
The apartment was an extra-long studio, with the space divided by a half wall and hanging beads. She walked farther into the shared living room and kitchen, eyeing the pile of books stacked on either side of the loveseat couch. Her gaze flickered to the hanging beads, assuming the back of the studio was reserved for the bathroom and bedroom.
"So… what did you need? You never come to visit."
Bailey cringed and offered a semblance of a smile to Stella. "I wanted to check on you and see how you were doing after everything. Do you know how Charity is doing?"
Stella's head bowed as she gazed into the bottom of her glass. "Charity's healing well and I'm… tired," she admitted. "The Royal Households summoned me late last night."
A wash of cold spilled through Bailey's veins. "Why?"
"They made me recount every premonition of death I've had since the first rabidus curse incident at Laxmi and Eris's wedding." She scowled, then glanced at Bailey. "I don't know why, considering some deaths I predict don't happen right away, which they know," she said with a roll of her eyes.
Bailey's chest tightened. "Did they mention anything about the restrictions on the sorcerers?"
Her scowl lessened as she shook her head, and Bailey's shoulders sank.
"Why? Has something—"
"The restrictions were passed." Stella blanched at the news. "They're posted in the hall."
Stella moved numbly to the loveseat. "They didn't mention anything about the sorcerer restrictions. They only wanted to know my death count," she croaked. "Poor Jax."
Bailey crossed her arms and kicked at the stone tile floor. Her anger stirred again on behalf of Jax and the few others she knew and tolerated. "Yeah."
"And poor River."
"Shit." Bailey looked at her in horror. "You think the restrictions will apply to River too?"
The banshee shrugged helplessly, clutching her cup in her lap. "I—I don't know." Her gravelly voice fumbled over her uncertainty. Stella cleared her throat and then took another sip of water. "If they try to enforce it, she could probably make a fair case for herself. She's technically not a sorcerer. I imagine you could do the same if restrictions were placed against the shifters."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Stella's mouth dropped open at Bailey's furious demand. "Just that… you're a lycan, not a shifter. You could make the same argument as River and be exempt from any future restrictions for shifters."
"Was that brought up in your meeting with the royals?" Bailey stepped forward, chest heaving as trepidation poisoned her mind and body. "Are the shifters next?"
"It was just an example," Stella quavered meekly. She shrank back at her friend's aggressive approach before her mouth pressed together. With painstaking slowness, Stella forced herself to sit tall though she couldn't quite meet her eyes. "I don't know why you're lashing out at me," she said, "but if this is how you check up on people, you might want to reevaluate your approach."
Bailey's teeth sank into her tongue to stop her retort and breathed roughly through her nose. Her chest flared with pain so succinct she grimaced and turned her petulant regard to the ground.
"I'm sorry." Bailey's apology came through gritted teeth. "I'm not myself lately."
"I noticed," Stella replied shortly.
A taut silence corrupted the space between them, and Bailey shuffled awkwardly toward the door.
Coward.
Bailey palmed the back of her neck, discreetly wiping away the sweat there and rubbing the base of her skull. A dull throb was forming there as her emotions reared up and out of her control again.
"I should go."
"Of course," Stella answered, voice chilly. The longer she watched Bailey edge away, the more disappointment painted itself across her features. "Are we still meeting tomorrow night for my self-defense lessons?"
Bailey nodded absently, her hand moving to the doorknob. "Try to give your voice a rest between now and then, okay?" Stella's mouth opened, then closed. She gave Bailey a decisive nod. "We'll review your self-defense moves, but instead of working on your sonic scream, we're going to start focusing on singing."
Stella's eyes rounded with terror. It was the exact response Bailey had been expecting, and she frowned at her friend. She held up a hand when Stella looked ready to protest.
"Your Aunt Claire could sing her premonitions, and there's no reason you can't either. I don't know why you're so against honing this skill."
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and glanced away. "It's not that simple."
Bailey clenched her jaw to check her temper. Then taking note of the time from an aged mantle clock, Bailey cursed.
"I have to go," Bailey said, waiting until Stella met her eye before turning the doorknob. "But if you still refuse to practice your singing tomorrow night, then I want to know the real reason why."
With reluctance, the banshee nodded. Bailey left without another word, slamming the door far too hard behind her. She kept her pace brisk as she wound through the halls to meet with a few other Wildings. It was her first assignment with a group, and a surge of excitement dashed through her. She was almost to their meeting spot when a voice called out to her.
"Bailey?"
The she-wolf whipped around. "River!"
Her friend looked like a storm waiting to unleash itself on the world. Her natural curls were left untamed and bounced about her head as she stomped over to Bailey. And her outfit, a black turtleneck and plaid trousers were heavily wrinkled. The air seemed to crackle with energy around her, ready to zap at anyone who got too close. Bailey spied the piece of paper gripped in her fist and her stomach twisted in dismay.
"Have you seen this?" She demanded, thrusting the paper into Bailey's line of sight. It was the Royal Households Decree.
"Yeah."
"I can't fucking believe this," she fumed. Bailey took a step back. River's anger was potent and palpable. Combined with her current instability, it wasn't a good mix. Bailey's anger shot up anew, and she feared what target it would latch onto.
The royals and their twisted agenda?
Stella's secret-keeping?
River's constant MIA status?
Ronan and his torturous denial?
Or herself?
Knowing how much her descent into insanity favored her misery, it would be them all.
"Hello? Earth to Bailey? Have you seen Irina?" When Bailey shook her head, River huffed and crossed her arms. "Well, are you going to help me find her? I finally found a reliable lead, but with the restrictions in place, I don't know how I'll get the resources I need from the clans."
A burst of laughter sounded from the end of the hall. Both women looked in its direction. Bailey shifted her weight from one foot to the other. They were the Wildings she was supposed to meet with.
