Magic Forged (Hall of Blood and Mercy #1)(74)

But he had laughed and smiled with me. He’d protected me from my own kind—from his own Family! I didn’t know what we were—friends seemed a weird definition, and one Killian would probably scoff at. But he had stood at my back, and every teasing poke, every challenge, every smirk had drawn me from my own bitterness and made me laugh despite my terrible situation.

Yeah. I’d kill someone for Killian Drake.

It went against everything I had been taught. Every rule I’d sworn to follow. Heck, it would probably make my parents cry if they were alive to hear of it, and it was almost certain that House Medeis would not welcome me back after this even if Mason was kicked out.

But I didn’t care.

I’d spill blood and kill the vampire if it meant saving people important to me. That was doing what was right.





Chapter Twenty





Hazel





I snapped my eyes open and again reached for my magic.

My body shook, and weirdly I began to glow a bright blue hue. Something in me crackled, then shattered, and I could feel it: magic. Not the faint flickers I had to fight to take in, but the vast, endless stretch of wild magic that cradled the world.

I pulled more and more of it through my blood, and it made me feel alive. I felt a part of me unwind that I’d never realized how crushed it made me feel. It was stronger than a shot of adrenaline, simultaneously beautiful and terrible.

With magic pulsing through me so much I probably glowed in the dark, I found I could stand. My face burned as I felt my wizard mark appear on the left side of my face, but this time the sensation lasted longer and stretched up my forehead to my hairline, and down my cheek, past my jaw, flowing over part of my neck. I inhaled, then picked my way toward the vampire, whose flames now stretched knee high.

“I’m giving you one last chance.” My voice was stronger than I thought it could be, and I smiled as I felt magic thread through my hair and twine around my fingers. “One last offer of mercy: stand down.”

The vampire didn’t bother to look back at me—she was staring at Killian with a mad delight. “Never!” She laughed. “Not now—not ever!”

“Then die.” I reached out and grabbed the back of her neck, unleashing the magic my blood harbored.

Blue bolts of electricity shot from me, surging through the encircled area with such bright intensity I couldn’t see anything.

The vampire screamed—but it only lasted for a moment before magic consumed her body, turning her to ash.

But the magic wasn’t done.

More electricity poured from me, until it felt like I had magic coming out of every pore. The phoenix statue split and crumbled, and the dragon dagger started to melt in the heat.

A huge bolt of my magic that cracked with a deafening boom punched through the top of the barrier, shattering the whole thing like glass. It soared up, smashing into the ceiling of the meeting room, cutting a gaping hole clear through the roof.

The entire building shook, and magic swirled around me.

Everything was too clear, too crisp. I could barely breathe because of the overwhelming sensations. Every part of me tingled and burned—but there was so much magic out there. A world of it! Why didn’t we do more? Why didn’t we use it the way it was meant to be used?

Overwhelmed, I felt my knees fold under me, even as lightning still crackled around me.

“She’s going into shock!” Josh yelled from what sounded like a mile away.

“Your Eminence—don’t! She’s too dangerous right now!”

The world was bright blue with magic, and everything was so hot. I tried to sever my connection, but now that magic freely floated through my blood it wouldn’t leave. I collapsed on the ground, my fingers twitching.

Something cold covered my eyes, offering a bit of relief.

“Breathe. You’re not a passive wizard, Hazel. This isn’t going to end you—magic would have to take you complaining and arguing every step.”

I breathed, and clenched my jaw as I forcefully cut off the pull of magic. I could still feel it around me, but it no longer seeped through my blood like it wanted to.

The hum of electricity faded, and I relaxed. Something cool wrapped around me, and I was vaguely aware that I was being moved before my blood roared in my ears, and I passed out.





I woke myself up with my own snores.

Yeah, how’s that for smooth? I was so loud I woke myself up with a snort that made my throat hurt.

I opened my eyes and promptly scrunched them shut. The shades were drawn, letting the orange-y gold light of sunset stab my poor eyes. I fluttered them open and closed, snort-sniffing in irritation when they teared up, making my vision blurry. Eventually, though, I was able to see again.

I was in my bedroom. My chisa katana was polished and arranged on its sword stand on my dresser, and even from here I could see my open closet stuffed with petite-sized suits. But for a moment I wasn’t certain where I was…because sitting at my bedside was Killian Drake.

And this time he wasn’t sitting back in his chair or looking like a model leaning against a wall.

No, he was artfully leaning forward, one forearm resting on my bed. His other hand—weirdly, strangely?—was intertwined with my own. He held my forearm up, propped up with his, and held my arm so close to his face I could feel his breath on the inside of my wrist. It was a weirdly intimate position—like something you would do for someone you really loved.