"A relationship is too dangerous," he says in a flat voice.
"No," I say, voice thickening as his rejection builds a lump in my throat. "I'm willing to try."
Tobias looks upwards to the canopy above. "I'm not."
"Tobias."
"Maeve, I will love you and care for you. I'll keep you safe—and that includes from myself. Please understand the thought of a distance between us tears me apart as much as you, but I don't want to tear you apart."
"That won't happen," I protest. "I can fight you if I need to."
He sighs deeply and strokes my face with the back of his hand. "Why should anybody have to fight a lover? That's wrong on a sickening level. I'm not taking the risk I'll abuse you. You have to understand how important you are to this world."
"Guys!" calls Anton quietly. "Come back."
Pulled away from the hellish conversation, I spin around. A small crack appears at Anton's feet. The ground fractures along with my heart as Tobias steps away from me.
"Stand with me," Anton says and beckons me.
I gape at the ground as the fracture becomes a split and grows until there's a deep channel several metres in diameter. The shaking ground destabilises me and I grip Tobias's sleeve.
"Jump in and run. Hurry," urges Anton. "This magic will alert people."
With a nod, Tobias steps down into the hole a couple of metres deep and holds out a hand. I jump down and dust clouds my face as my feet land on the rocky ground.
Tobias snatches my hand and runs forward; I try to keep up, my pulse haywire as each step takes me closer to escape. The crack in the earth runs directly in front of us, past the willow trees and towards another copse. Figures come into view and I squint at them. A broad-shouldered, tall guy could be Ash, and I hope he is with every fibre of my being.
A separate female figure stands directly at the end of the chasm, her arms outstretched as a whirlwind of stones and earth swirl around her hands. Izzy? Another broad-shouldered guy stands beside her with one hand outstretched but no apparent magic.
"They're here!" calls the girl and the figures rush forward to stand at the edge of the tunnel.
"What the hell?" yells a voice behind us.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
ANDREI
I stand beneath the tree with Jamie, happy to hold back and watch events unfold. If something goes wrong, I want to be out of sight again.
Neither of us have spoken the words, but we both know the truth—if something does go wrong, we’ll all die anyway. Alaric and his gang appear to know what they’re dealing with, and I admit I’m impressed by their magic, but is that enough?
Seriously, I never thought I’d come across someone able to intercept Blackwood magic. I can sense the strain on Alaric from here, and I’m several hundred metres away. The witch chick’s magic isn’t exhausting her as much as his, but I’m concerned how much of the ground that she’s throwing around will hit Maeve and Tobias.
When the pair told us their plan, I was sceptical. A witch her age performing magic strong enough to rip the ground apart? Impossible. The academy elemental witches can play around with earth elements, but nothing as strong as this. Even Matt’s fire spells never reached this magnitude when he was at the academy.
I watch in awe as the chasm opened and hear them yelling at Maeve and Tobias. They’re not visible, but Ash ran forward anyway when we’d promised we’d stay back. I’m tempted to join him, but don’t want to leave Jamie on his own. Or the book.
“This is insane,” he murmurs to me. “I’ve never seen magic like this.”
“Yeah.” I run a hand down my face. “As long as Maeve gets out of there safely.”
He stares at the ground. “Do you think they hurt her badly?”
“Stop asking that. I don’t wanna think about her hurt.”
Jamie doesn’t respond. He keeps his hold on the rucksack strap. I understand why he didn’t want to leave the book at the group’s house, but I’m also wary he’s close to the Blackwoods and holding their grimoire. They detected the pendant; why not the book?
I chew a nail. How long will this take? We'll need to get the hell out of here as soon as we have Maeve and Tobias; no time for reunions and shit.
A stick cracks nearby and I spin around to look into the dark. Nothing. I focus my heightened senses on my surroundings, distracted from events as I look and listen.
The night's chill drops several degrees and an aura from something else in the woods creeps closer.
“Jamie,” I whisper. “Do you feel something?”
“Yeah, I feel bloody terrified this plan might not work.”
“No. Something else.”
He pulls a non-committal face. “I don’t sense things the same way you do.”
I chew my lip. Something. Somewhere.
Another sound, this time from above, leaves rustling but not from the breeze.
A dread I’ve not felt for many years runs through me from my scalp to my toes as the dark aura reaches out to mine.
Fuck. No.
“Jamie!” I call and reach out to him.
A male figure drops from the branches above and knocks Jamie to the ground. He cries out and rolls onto his front, squashing the backpack between himself and the dirt.
Placing a boot on Jamie's back, the man tips his chin at me. A vampire’s teeth glint as he smiles. “Hello, Andrei.”
Jamie remains immobile and I dart a look between him and his assailant. I don't recognise the slender man or have any idea how he knows my name. He's taller than me. Wiry. His move on Jamie shows he's adept at fighting and undoubtedly a vampire. The teeth scream that he’s hemia too.
And I can sense he isn’t alone.
Shit.
“Leave us the fuck alone,” I growl. “I'm with powerful witches. Over there. Other side of the trees.”
He gives a cursory glance in the direction I point. “Uh huh. But you wouldn’t want to interrupt them, would you? Not until your friend breaks free.”
I bristle at his sardonic smile, and the booted foot on Jamie’s back; I’m still primed to attack if he threatens Jamie any further.
“What do you want?” I ask.
His dark eyes shine but he doesn't respond.
A different malevolence shrouds me, one that’s crept up unnoticed, thanks to this arsehole’s distraction. I tense, sensing her presence as keenly as if she’d run her fingers down my spine, and my blood wavers between angry heat and cold fear.
Slowly, I turn to face the woman stepping out of the copse.
“Hello, my sweet.”
Years. Years since I spent time in my mother's presence or looked her in the face. She hasn’t changed—not since the 1700s—and I fight against remembering her tenderness when I was a small child—her pride at creating a blood-born, one who’d become a scion for the family.
But I was too much like my father to bend to my mother's will and spurned her teaching.
As I stand here now, I’m reduced to the twelve-year-old child she left; the one with a bare knowledge of Dominion, sheltered by my family’s Confederacy links. I push him away and find myself the fourteen-year-old my mother returned to one day and demanded I join her. She offered me power—a place at the table beside her. The chance to rule.