“All will be explained, soon.”
Calliope? Robin thought. That was her doctor, and also apparently a caster (the bad kind, maybe?). Who was she, and how was she connected to Magnus?
Robin remembered her face so clearly; she’d had to be rushed to the hospital two years ago, on her twenty-fourth birthday, because of a shockingly fast case of appendicitis. Dr. Morris had been so calm and reassuring, even though Robin’s stomach had felt like it was going to blow up inside of her. The pain had been excruciating.
Robin was absolutely certain it was the same woman.
But how? And why?
Magnus addressed Reykon once more. “I held out hope for you.”
“What?” Reykon hissed.
“When you approached the port, I thought to myself: he would not disobey me. Not Reykon. He is loyal, always. But I watched you sail past, and now, I understand your true motivations.”
Reykon stiffened, hunching slightly in an attack position.
Magnus’s laughter boomed across the boat once more. “My boy, I have no interest in fighting you.”
“You can’t have her!”
“Quiet!” Magnus roared. In an instant, he’d closed the distance between them. Robin felt the wind rush to her as he moved fast enough to create a current, and then he was there before them. With a single hand, he swatted Reykon like a fly.
Robin heard a crunch, and his arm was ripped out of hers. She watched Reykon fly through the air and slam into the wall of the other ship, twenty feet away, before crashing into the frothing waves. His impact echoed across the wind.
“No!” Robin screamed, starting after him.
She was stopped by a rock-like hand, gripping her arm. The skin felt cold and unnatural on her own and filled her mind with unease.
The motion jerked her, causing a painful ache to shoot up her shoulder and into her neck.
She pulled, but it was no use. Trying to move him was like trying to kick a mountain.
His eyes raked her over, scaling up and down her birthmarks. She cried out in anger, thrashing at him, but he just smiled wider.
“We meet at last, Robin Wright,” he hummed, deep in his chest.
A noise from behind Magnus drew her attention. It was Willow’s cry of pain.
A strongblood stood behind her, his fist entangled in her hair, ripping it back to hold her in place. Her face was contorted in pain. Dag was enraged, tearing at another strongblood that held him.
Magnus released Robin, and she watched in terror as he stalked to Willow and Dag. She took a side glance, searching frantically for Reykon. He was being hoisted up by a rope, pulled by Magnus’s men up onto the ship. A sharp breath escaped her lips at the sight of him, pale and unconscious.
She looked back to the siblings.
Magnus stood directly in front of them, his sword drawn downward at his side.
“No!” Robin yelled, sprinting towards them. Magnus held a hand out, and a strongblood intercepted her, nearly knocking the wind out of her lungs from the impact. His arm wrapped around her waist and locked, leaving her to thrash at him, trying to throw him off. She was enraged, helpless, watching Magnus approach the witches with his sword.
He raised it and held the very tip under Willow’s chin, looking down the long blade and directly into her eyes.
Robin saw the way she trembled, but she also saw the resolve in the witch’s eyes. Willow was terrified, but wouldn’t let it show, not in front of Magnus.
“You are a gifted caster,” Magnus crooned. “Your ancestors would have been proud.”
Dag let out a cry of rage, thrashing against the strongblood. He managed to break free and lunged towards Willow and Magnus.
Nobody saw the sword swing.
It was too fast, whistling through the air, cutting in a swift strike. Dag fell to the deck without a sound, lying motionless.
Willow let out a cry like a wounded animal, a cry that made Robin’s own chest cramp in sorrow. The strongblood released her, and Willow dropped to her hands and knees, sobbing next to her brother.
Magnus wiped the sword on Dag’s shirt, leaving a trail of red on the fabric. He brought the sword back over, returning it to the spot underneath Willow’s chin, and forcing her face to lift up.
Her eyes were obscured in pure rage, burning green.
Magnus spoke in a calm voice. “I will ensure that your bodies are sent, intact, to the proper channels. Where shall your spirit lie?”
Robin watched with futile terror as Willow sobbed a series of words, none of which made sense to her.
Magnus brought the sword down.
Robin was the one to cry, a scream of anger and rage and hurting that was so drilling that it echoed in her own mind. She felt a different kind of pain, a kind in her mind. Like it was a speaker and the bass had been turned up all the way.
She clutched the sides of her head and staggered, eyes fixed on the dead witches before her.
The pain in her head only lasted a second.
“It’s starting,” Calliope called distantly. “We must return to the compound.”
By then, Magnus had appeared before Robin, close enough for her to smell him.
She found herself face to face with him, his death-like breath washing over her face. She leaned in even closer, drilling her icy eyes into his, refusing to back down. Her own voice was foreign to her, full of rage and disdain.
“I am going to destroy you,” she vowed, the words hot like acid.
Magnus’s lip curved up in a smile and showed his glinting canines. “I look forward to seeing you try.”
Before she could pull back, the vampire’s lips were on hers, rough and forceful, and the world faded into darkness.
Lucidia
It was eight p.m. before anything happened. She was still standing around, milling with different circles and enjoying festivities that had been provided for them.
Through that mingling, she’d been able to notice a few things.
First, that annoying crackle of magic in the air.
As Lucidia glanced
