A dark wisp started to materialise next to my father, embers sparking in the dark swirls. There was only one type of creature that travelled by hellfire.
Demons.
Fuck. I’d been sold to a demon?
A man materialised from the shadows, all pale skin and dark features. He wore round black sunglasses, despite the time of day, and his clothes were all luxurious shades of black and grey. He smiled and his grin was full of sharp teeth. “I’ve been waiting a long time to collect you, Wilder. I hope you’ve come willing to hand yourself over to me.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, no can do. I already belong to someone else.”
The King’s smile dropped and his mouth pulled back into a snarl. “You are mine, Shadow Witch, and I will have what I am owed.”
“Now, now,” my father said placatingly. “We’re still waiting on the main event.”
Ah, yes. The fucking suppressant. “What’s supposed to happen at midnight?”
I sensed Byron stepping closer, readying himself to protect me. The others were scattered around the perimeter and I had no idea how many people my father would have brought with him. Then again, he probably thought he was untouchable.
I was about to show him how wrong he was.
“When you were born, I knew you were a Shadow Witch,” my father said as if he were telling me a bedtime story. “Female Shadow Witches will always give birth to a Shadow Witch. If a male Shadow Witch mated with another type of witch, it was rare the offspring would be of their heritage. They’d most likely take after their mother.”
“You kidnapped Adela Hawthorne,” I said, fury starting to bubble in my veins. I hated him for what he’d stolen from me, that chance I could have had at a normal life with someone who truly loved me.
“My, you have been busy,” Lawler crooned.
The King positively beamed. “Must be powerful if the suppressants aren’t working as they should.”
“Be careful,” Byron whispered into my ear. “I don’t know what this demon’s game is.”
Neither did I, but there was only one way to find out. “Why did you suppress my magic? What was the point?”
My father barked a laugh. “I knew what Dara was planning, knew that the council would most likely banish me and that I’d need time. The suppression ensured me a decade to hunt you down and also that no one else would know what you are. I didn’t want anybody else thinking they could siphon the power that belonged to me.”
“And what of Dara? Where did she fit in with your grand plan?” I asked, my voice harsh and aggressive.
“I only needed her as a pawn to convince you that you were safe. I planted a memory in Dara’s mind so she thought that your magic was triggered by your twenty-fifth birthday. She was so easy to manipulate. She’d been a better daughter than you had been a son.”
I was going to claw his fucking face off. How dare he do this? At least that cleared up Dara’s involvement. Although, I’d believed what Byron had said so my father’s words were a moot point. But still, to crow over he manipulated her memories was a complete dick move.
Somewhere in the city, a distant bell started to chime. This was it.
A wind blew in from the east, swirling around me and tugging at my coat and hair. The air crackled with electricity, vibrating against my skin and bringing with it the sense of transformation. Power surged in my core, impossibly bright and incomprehensive to behold. It was raw and hungry, new and exciting and I could feel it changing me on a cellular level.
“Now!” my father yelled. “While he is most vulnerable.”
Vulnerable?
I called my magic to me, but it was wild and free. Uncontained. Unresponsive. Reaching outwards and overflowing.
No. No, no, no.
It swirled through my veins, and the wind circled around me like a tornado, lifting my feet from the ground. Purple lightning arced from my hands and feet, useless as it fizzled into nothing.
What was the point of all this power if I couldn’t fucking use it?
Lesser demons crawled up through the soil, their bodies aged and decomposing, and I watched helplessly as Damyr and the others fought them off.
The King charged towards me, blade held high.