Rebel Academy: Curse

Chapter Two MAGENTA

When my three delicious Immortals freed me from over a century trapped as a ghost in Hecate's Tree, resurrecting me, I'd believed that I'd been granted a second chance at life.

But even second chances required sacrifice.

My Wickedly Charmed magic created Rebel Academy from the cradle, but it was my grief at Robin, my first mage lover's, death that cursed it to perpetual winter.

Yet even though I was all wicked, I could bless, rather than curse. I'd save the Rebels because Rebel Academy had always been mine.

I was awfully possessive, even if I intended to tear it up by the roots.

The vast stone that crashed down and blocked the Immortals’ and my path outside the ruins, however, was ancient and dangerous.

A Gateway.

In throbbing, pulsing crimson, it didn't belong inside the academy. It'd been stolen from the angels, and it roared its fury at being tamed.

I gasped, clutching harder onto Sleipnir's aquamarine mane, which glittered as if with crushed gems.

Sleipnir had transformed into his giant eight-legged horse form to carry Bask, Fox, and me out across the snowy grounds of Rebel Academy to the Gateway for our mission. It'd been glorious to ride him through the churning snow, away from the dragon stables and the castle. My magenta magic had wound out of the floor and sky to form a tunnel, which was our connection through the veil of life, love, and death.

All of a sudden, a wave of dark magic blasted from the stone, and Sleipnir reared back. His ears flattened to his head. He squealed in alarm.

Just for a moment, the sun speared through the clouds, blinding me.

My fingers slipped.

No, no, no...

The stone's magic lashed against mine. Pink sparks exploded from me, and I screamed. The stone dragged out my magic in agonizing bursts.

I was losing control...

My magic faded, driving the breath from me.

Bind my body but don't take my magic. Snap my broomstick, even ban me from a decent cup of tea or forever pour in the milk first.

See how serious I was?

The Gateway didn't listen to my plea. Admittedly, I'd only voiced it inside my mind, but it also screamed through the last withering tendrils of my magic.

It was rather rude of the Gateway to mess with my magic but not understand its language. It was even ruder to threaten the students who it was meant to be transporting on an assassins’ mission.

Who’d have guessed that a Gateway through to other realms was actually alive?

Ah, the wonders of a magical academy.

Was it not deadly enough to send us Rebels to the Gold Court of the Dragons as unwilling kidnappers without testing us first with this killer rock?

Behind me, Fox's curls brushed my neck, as his arms tightened around my waist. His scent of wild raspberries washed over me. I couldn't lose him because he was my second chance: the mage who mustn't die.

The mage who I loved, as I'd once loved Robin. As I still loved Robin.

Sleipnir's breathing was loud and panicked; his flanks gleamed with sweat. The Gateway blasted a jolt of shocking magic, and Sleipnir reared again.

Bask hollered, tumbling off Sleipnir’s back. My breath caught. Then Fox and I were falling too, and I screamed.

My magic looped around my lovers to hold onto them, before they hit the ground.

Sweet Hecate, keep my Immortals safe.

Why could I never remember not to pray to goddesses? Perhaps, I should write a thousand lines of:

Praying to Hecate is the same as wishing that you’d transform into firewood.

When I tumbled from Sleipnir's back, my life didn't flash before my eyes. Instead, I was overwhelmed by the sight, touch, and taste of my lovers. Their blood was mine because they'd resurrected and awakened me. We were connected eternally, after death and beyond love. On the witching heavens, I’d never let them go.

I shook, battling the hold of the Gateway's magic.

My own magic twisted and turned, keeping Bask and Fox safe in the air, while I slowly sank lower.

Don't let them fall...

Sweat dripped down the back of my neck, as I landed face first with a thud in a snowbank. I spluttered on the freezing snow, spitting it out of my mouth and blinking, as it hung from my eyelashes.

Then the threads of my magic drew taut and with a twang that made me wince, began to snap.

Alarmed, I threw myself onto my back, wiping my sleeve across my face. My vision was blurry with snow. When my lovers were hurled through the air like puppets between my magic and the Gateways, I struggled onto my knees.

I wouldn’t be defeated by a rock.

I yanked harder, but then another thread snapped, two, three...

Then the last threads of my magic broke.

With a delighted snarl, the Gateway hurled Bask and Fox against the walls of the ruins.

I howled, slamming my fists into the snow. My pulse thrashed in my ears. If I hadn't already been on my knees, I'd have fallen onto them.

I stared at the still bodies of my lovers, who lay like shattered ice sculptures. Sleipnir snorted, standing over Bask, as if he could protect him. His whole body was tense and trembling; his nostrils flared.

I regretted to inform the universe that this was my story. I might be the wicked witch, but I'd become the heroine, and the Rebels who I loved wouldn't die in the cold...like so many students before them.

How many students had been killed on missions or by this Gateway? There was a whole gallery of portraits of the dead. It was an academy of ghosts, which was shadowed by its dark past.

No more Rebels would die, blessed be, no more.

I forced myself to my feet and staggered to Sleipnir, patting his flank to calm him. He pawed at the snow like a soldier, guarding Bask and Fox. He'd been frightened that I'd think his shifter form monstrous and reject him.

He was my beautiful monster, and I'd never fear him.

"You're an excellent guard for your lovers," I whispered, "but I can save them."

I didn't know what advancements this modern age had made in medicine (perhaps, they'd even discovered a way to look inside the body without carving it open or cured the common cold), but it wasn't pills or operations that’d heal my broken lovers.

It was magic.

In a blue spray of glitter, Sleipnir transformed back into his godly form. His hair was spiky and cinnamon red. In his distress, he was linked to his brother Fenrir. He wrapped his long woolen black coat around himself, but I didn't believe that it was because of the cold.

I pulled him closer, pressing his forehead to mine. "It's not your fault."

He shuddered. "Yeah, it is. They trusted me enough to ride me. Look what revealing my monster led to, right? Why do you think I trap it inside?"

“There shall be no more trapping. My lovers are wild and free. You’ve seen this Gateway before. Some warning that it intended to squash us would’ve been nice.”

Sleipnir huffed. “By the Norns, it didn’t act like an aggressive guard dog before. But then, your magic appears to have pissed it off.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How flattering. It believes me more threatening, a challenge, or…wicked.”

I dragged Sleipnir to crouch over Bask and Fox, who were tangled together like they were only sleeping back in our bedroom and any moment would wake up.

Except, I knew that wasn't true.

All of a sudden, I was shocked by the memory of Prince Lysander’s distress, as he’d crouched over Midnight. The vampire’s wings had been broken by Principal Damelza’s hex because the Princes had lost the Rebel Cup.

Lysander must love Midnight, just like I loved Bask and Fox.

The Immortals lay at the entrance to the ruins, which was a tumbledown stone house. The ceiling was caved in at one side. Almost five hundred years ago, this had been where the last Blessedly Charmed witch before me had been forced to live, isolated from everyone to keep her magic pure. Perhaps, her family had been afraid of her power.

Had mine…?

The hairs on my nape rose at the thought of her stuck out here alone, only able to stare longingly at the life inside the castle.

I'd take being wicked over that any day.

Yet I could feel her power, which reached out of nature like an echo. It was still trapped here. It wound around me, leeching into my faded magic and reenergising...strengthening...it. I ducked my head in case the Gateway realized the way that the new strength was bleeding back into me.

I pressed my fingers to Bask's lips; his breath ghosted across my skin.

Thank Hecate.

I shivered in relief.

Then I turned to Sleipnir, and my expression became steely. "Holding onto your mane, as we rode together through the snow, was the most freeing experience of my long, long life. Don't ever hide again."

Sleipnir flushed, clenching his jaw, but he saluted. He had excellent manners when he tried.

Bask's uniform of pink blazer and tie with black pants, was ripped, revealing his alabaster skin beneath. I itched to pet him like he loved. Instead, I forced myself to lean down, pushing his silky ebony hair away from his ear.

"You please me.” My lips grazed his ear on each word, and my magic that was imbued with the thrilling power of my Blessedly Charmed ancestor coiled out of the ruins and around him, until he was cocooned in sizzling pink. Pleasing your bonded fed an incubus' power, and I didn't care that the Duchess thought she had a claim over Bask; I was the one who'd save him from dying. "You shall always please me. Once, I told you not to say always but I was wrong because I shall always save you. Without you, there's no pleasure or life for me. You're my pleasure: my Crave. My immortal love."

Bask's eyes shot open, and his adoring ruby gaze met mine. My breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze, and the way that he raised his gloved hand to stroke down my cheek in a gesture that was deeply intimate for an incubus, before skimming it along my jawline. My pulse fluttered in my throat.

He was alive...

Sleipnir let out a choked sound, as he dropped to his knees in the snow and clasped Bask's hand. "Odin's cock, I'm sorry."

Bask's expression softened. "Let's not bring a bad bastard like Odin or his cock into it. Pet me."

I kissed his petal soft lips, and his breath against mine was life after death. He smelled of coco and almonds, and I wished to devour him.

Then Bask squirmed. "This isn't a comfortable pillow nest."

I blanched, grabbing him by the shoulders to still him. "I'll be certain to tell Fox when he...wakes up."

Bask's eyes widened, and he scrambled around, tumbling into Sleipnir's lap. "Fix my foxy," he demanded, gesturing wildly at Fox, who lay sprawled across the ruins’ entranceway. "And I don't mean cut off his balls because they’re important to me, as well as to him."

Fox must've hit his head on the corner; his forehead was bruised and swollen. I wished that I could just kiss it away, but his injury was worse than Bask's. I reached out a shaky hand, tracing the purple outline, as I cradled Fox. I smoothed his blond curls back from his forehead. He was so cold in his thin whipping boy uniform; his skin was like ice.

Yet I was even colder. How could I warm him?

Fox's face was pale. It was unnatural for him to be silent and still. Fox was a whirlwind of words and hyperactive movement. I never wished for him to be silenced again.

I couldn't lose my mage. Not like this...please, not like this, not like...

My magic burst out in a storm that buffeted the ruins in my grief. Pink snow swirled from the clouds, blinding me.

"Valhalla!" Sleipnir yelled above the roar of the storm. "We haven't lost him yet. Seriously, control yourself and remember that our incubus has the power to heal, if we feed him enough pleasure." Bask slipped over Sleipnir's lap, and his eyes glittered with a predator's light. "How about I command you?"

Bask cast Fox a final concerned glance, before he smirked at Sleipnir. "How about I command you, Slippy?"

Sleipnir swallowed. "You're kind of freaky when you come over all dominant. Okay, whatever supercharges you."

I nodded. "My crow familiars have often told me that fast and dirty is quite a charming approach."

Sleipnir flushed again. Was fast and dirty not a popular style?

Bask clapped his hands together, and his eyes gleamed. "Fast and dirty coming up."

Mist, the tiny eight-legged horse who I'd created in transfiguration class out of my magic and the special plectrum that Loki had given Sleipnir, poked his head out of Sleipnir's pocket. Sleipnir's emotions were magically shown in Mist, even if he tried to hide them. He whinnied with excitement, pawing at the air like he could gallop to me.

When I laughed, Sleipnir glared at Mist, pushing him down into his pocket. "This is for my eyes only. Well, unless you count the incubus."

"You always count the incubus," Bask declared.

Sleipnir turned me, hauling me close to his hard chest. I could feel the thud, thud, thud of his rapid heartbeat against mine. I wished to make him lose himself, until the anguish clouding his eyes and vibrating through him was gone, and there was nothing left but our love.

I vanished the skirts and my inconvenient layers of undergarments, allowing myself a smile at Sleipnir's appreciative groan.

Well, we were going for fast.

Bask tutted. "As much as I love the sight of your fine arse, did I say you could do that?" My word, I hadn't known that Bask had a stern voice. I certainly hadn't imagined that it’d make me shiver so deliciously. "Slippy, punish her."

Sleipnir met my eye, and I nodded my permission. His hand cupped my tit, rubbing across my nub in teasing circles, and his other slipped between my thighs. I widened my legs in encouragement.

If this was punishment, let me be wicked.

"Lower," Bask commanded.

Sleipnir's fingers dipped lower, thrusting into my pussy. I flushed at the way that Sleipnir held me on display for Bask.

Bask crawled closer with predatory danger. His ruby gaze never left mine. "Crook your fingers. See how that's pleasing her? Faster now, and deeper. Tease her with your other hand."

I squirmed at the shocking intensity of the pleasure. Sleipnir's breath gusted hot against my neck. His prick pressed hard and ignored against my hip, but he didn't appear to notice because all his focus was on me.

Both my lovers were lost in my pleasure, and I was carried away on it.

When Sleipnir locked his legs around me, drawing me even closer, I groaned.

It was too fast, too much, too...

Bask's face was almost touching mine. When his tongue darted out to wet his plush lips, devouring my pleasure, I darted out my own tongue to capture his. I might be the one arching in a haze, but Bask's pupils still dilated. I crushed my mouth to his.

Then he drew back. "Now kiss her," he breathed, "like she's life itself."

Bask turned my head to hold me in place for Sleipnir, as he kissed me as slowly as his fingers thrust rapidly.

The difference broke me, pushing me over the edge. My hands clutched onto Sleipnir’s thighs, and my eyes fluttered closed.

"If you desire it," each word that Bask purred was like honeyed sin, "come."

My magic burst out in a wave of pink sparkles, before unfurling within me in wracking spasms. As Sleipnir worked me through it, my black mists stroked over him, until he was panting too.

At last, Sleipnir kissed me again and chuckled against my lips. "Was that fast and dirty enough for you?"

He wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Delightfully." I rematerialized my skirts with a modest wriggle.

Truly, modest.

When Bask pressed his gloved hand to my cheek in thanks, my breath caught because he didn't need to say a word: the gesture meant thanks for allowing an incubus to take control, rather than be controlled, to take pleasure, rather than give it, and to feed his power to become strong.

It was thanks for everything that his ex-bond, the Duchess (who wished to claim him back on Sunday), would rip away from him.

Then Bask turned to Fox, pulling his still body to his chest.

Witching heavens, let this work.

Don't let me watch another lover die.

Bask hovered over Fox like he was about to awaken our mage like a fairy tale prince (as if from death), with a kiss. I held my own breath. Bask licked over the seam of Fox's lips, tonguing open his mouth. But then, ruby sparkles glittered a trail out of Bask's lips and into Fox's mouth.

Such beautiful magic... I'd sacrifice every moment of my freedom for it to work.

I truly did love Fox. Yet did I love all my Rebels with the same breath-taking need?

I rather thought that I did.

Behind me, the Gateway growled as if in triumph. I twisted around, as the Gateway stalked towards us.

"No matter how villainous a rock you believe yourself to be," I snarled, "I'm the wicked witch of this academy. Now, as my crow familiars would say: fuck off."

"Well said," a voice rasped, just as a hand clasped mine. "What did I miss? Did Bacchus just teach a class on Swearing and Spells because that would be brilliant…"

I spun back to Fox, stopping his bewildered rambling with a kiss. His lips still fizzed with Bask's magic, and I sucked at the combined taste of coco, almonds, and raspberries.

Fox was alive.

Yet he was shivering, and his skin was frozen.

As one, Bask and Sleipnir threw their coats on him, before tumbling on top of him. He let out a startled oomph. We fell together in a laughing heap of life and love, in the shadow of ruins and death.

Soon, we'd have to face our mission. But for now, let us have this.

When Fox spluttered, pushing a coat arm off his face, Bask cast a wink at me. Then he tied his coat around Fox's waist, rubbing Fox’s legs to warm him (and I was certain by the tenting in his pants enjoying the touch as much as Fox). Sleipnir grinned, then he pulled his coat over Fox's shoulders, and Fox burrowed further into it, sniffing at the collar with a satisfied sigh like Sleipnir's scent was coming home.

Mist peered up at him and gave a low nicker. Fox patted him.

I smothered my laugh in the back of my hand because Fox looked adorable bundled in the coats, and equally adorably uncertain of how to react to others caring for him.

I'd change that.

"Wow, horse riding is more exciting than I remember." Fox's smile brightened. "Can I go again?"

Sleipnir’s lips pinched. "You'd trust me after...?"

Fox grasped Sleipnir's chin, forcing him to meet his eye. "I've never ridden a god before, and I've ridden a lot of exciting things: a goth unicorn, bad-tempered kraken, and a drunk Pegasus. Okay, so that didn't end well...okay, more like don't drink and fly." I'd missed my hot pathological liar. "But don't they say that if you're thrown, you should get straight back into the saddle?"

"Don't they also say," Sleipnir growled, "that if you piss off the horse, it spanks you?"

Fox let go of Sleipnir, backing against me like I'd defend him. Foolish mage, he incited a god at his own behind's risk.

Perhaps, that should be in the Rebel's Mottos. I'd put it in the Suggestion Box for Damelza.

"Only at kinky witch parties. My cousin once told me about them." Fox wrinkled his nose.

“Can I stop him talking again?” Sleipnir muttered. At my censorious glare, he raised his eyebrow. “Too soon?”

"You know, the ones where the horses have to push their tails some place more uncomfortable than yours,” Fox continued with pretend innocence like Sleipnir simply didn’t understand him.

I coughed, reddening. Certainly, this new age invented wonders that even my familiars hadn't fantasized, and after over a hundred years stuck alone together, they’d fantasized a lot.

"Uncomfortable but fun," Bask added. When we all stared at him, he pinked. "I'd imagine."

Fox tapped my knee. "Is it just me or is that freaky stone closer than before?"

I only just had time to look up, before the Gateway rushed up with a howling roar. It thrummed with fury, and just for a moment, I was fascinated by the sharp point at its center almost like the nose in a human face.

What knowledge hid inside this angelic library, which was much more than simply transport between realms?

Then I shook myself. Knowledge tempted with dangers, as much as the quest for power. The House of Crows had always searched for both.

My magic reached out like ivy, tangling around the Gateway to hold it back. "Inside!" I hollered.

The Immortals scrambled backward through the entranceway into the ruins. My magic battled with the Gateway’s.

The ancient power sparked and hissed, but I didn't think that it was trying to defeat me. Rather, us Rebels were the sheep being herded to our slaughter.

I stumbled back, and Fox caught me in his arms, then the stone slab slammed over the entrance, shutting us in the black like a tomb.

I shuddered, as the darkness enshrouded me. The air was stuffy and rich with the incense laden magic of the Blessedly Charmed witch, who'd been shut away here for her entire life five hundred years ago. I could breathe in her ghost, even when the rest of her had faded. How powerful must her magic have been that I could still feel it?

They pretended to worship her, but this had been her prison.

"You feel that?" Fox whispered. His hand slipped from my waist to clasp mine. "It's echoes of magic."

"What I feel," Sleipnir's breath was hot across my cheek, as we pressed together in a circle, "is that some asshole rock has us trapped, when it should be helping us travel through to the Court of the Gold Dragons.”

“It’s a sad thing that you can’t trust anyone nowadays,” Bask smirked, “not even bad bastard Gateways.”

My magic trailed out of me in glowing roots, lighting the inside of the ruins. I shivered at the connection to the cold stone floor and walls, as it climbed like brambles across all that remained of my ancestor’s home.

I’d never been more grateful that I’d been trapped in Hecate’s Tree with Flair and Echo. Had she had a familiar as well? Her magic wailed through my mind. Juni had warned me before that I’d been wrong to believe only bad boys had been imprisoned here.

Why did I keep forgetting that all of us alike were caught in the academy?

By the light of my glowing brambles, I glanced around at the Immortals. “Even if we travel through the Gateway on our mission, we become kidnappers, stealing the dragon archduke’s freedom.”

“His name’s Marcus,” Fox murmured.

I reached up to the metal collar that was twisted in the shape of crows’ feathers, which hung from my black pearl necklace. Its wretched magic called to mine, yet it poisoned me every moment that I carried it.

The unnatural collar was cursed, and I had to force it around a shifter’s neck.

I clutched the sparkling bag that Professor Ambrose, the Seelie fae, had tied around my neck. The bag contained a Sleeping Charm that Ambrose had made. Next to the witches’ collar, it felt natural and safe.

Yet, appearances were awfully deceptive.

Sleipnir noticed the way that my fingers caressed the charm. “If the Gateway ever stops being a dick, then it’ll transport us straight to Marcus. You crush the bag, he’ll fall asleep, then someone else will have to buckle the collar on, before we bring him back because being a kidnapper is kind of about being stealthy…”

When Sleipnir reached for the collar with a grimace, however, Bask batted him away, which was like a kitten pawing at a lion.

Yet Bask’s expression was fierce. “Away with you, like I don’t know how caging the shifter who you set free would hurt you. I’ll collar the dragon.” He slipped his fingers across the collar, and I shook as the searing weight was removed from me. He unhooked it from my choker and slid it into his blazer pocket. “I’ve already done a lot of bad things.” His intense gaze met Sleipnir’s. “But I won’t let this academy ruin you.”

“And what about Marcus?” Fox said, deliberately emphasizing the archduke’s name. “So, he’ll just go to sleepy byes in his Land of the Dragons and then wake up whipped and…”

“Ambrose swore that he wouldn’t punish him for escaping,” I said.

Sleipnir snorted.

“You’re truly not helping. I believed him because as much as he pretends to be a…”

“Hardass?” Sleipnir suggested.

I tilted my head. “Whereas in fact his behind is quite soft. The fae listens to songs about snowmen with his son and protects him above all else, as well as risking punishment by granting me this illegal Sleep Charm to try to save our lives.” The memory of Fox’s still face and broken body in the snow choked off my words. “Did you forget that if we fail, then you shall be executed, my sweet mage? Do not tell me that I’ve yet to convince you that your life has worth?”

Fox’s expression was thoughtful. “I’m convinced, but just not that my life’s worth more than any other shifter’s.”

“When we break open the wards on this academy, all the dragons will be freed.” I gripped Fox’s curls like that would stop him escaping or sacrificing himself.

“I don’t trust our furry assed lover not do something…noble.” Sleipnir narrowed his eyes at Fox.

Fox glanced between us, alarmed. “Ehm, why did that sound like an insult? If it balances things out, I’m pretty certain that I have the makings of a brilliant villain, since I have the tragic backstory, criminal powers, and epic sounding name.”

“You’re not to become a villain,” Bask ordered.

Fox grinned. “You never let me have any fun.”

“Huh, well how about this, why don’t you have fun as a hedgehog?” Sleipnir drawled.

Ah, that must be shifter fun.

Fox blinked. “Cheers for the offer, but Mr. Fierce doesn’t want to come out and play right now. I’ve never heard of prickle kink…okay, it’s one of the more unusual furries…”

Sleipnir wrenched Fox away from me, clutching him by his neck. “Honestly, since I don’t trust you to understand why we all…value you…you’ll be riding along as an observer. On the name of the Valkyries, it’s only your first mission. I won’t risk losing another Immortal.” Bask’s pained gaze met his, then he shifted, awkwardly. “You lying unmoving in the snow was like a premonition. Now get your hedgehogy arse out here because I’m feeling possessive…”

That was as close to I love you as Sleipnir got.

Ah, our Romeo.

Fox laughed. “Who am I to prickle shame? Mr. Fierce at your service.”

With a pop of glitter, Fox transformed into an albino hedgehog with ghost white prickles and red eyes. I forced myself not to coo. He tried to curl into a ball, but Sleipnir swung him into his blazer pocket.

When Fox’s little paws and whiffling nose poked over the pocket, however, I gave up and cooed anyway.

Was that his new power: cuteness?

Possibly, I shouldn’t ask him that.

Unexpectedly, the Gateway crashed against the entranceway. The ruins were lit a hellish crimson. I recoiled, as it bellowed.

Its magic was calling to mine.

Could the others feel the stinging darkness, singing through their blood?

Bang, bang, bang.

The Gateway slammed itself again and again like it’d crush us, if it could only reach us. Except, we were safe within the blessed sanctuary.

Yet the Gateway thirsted for my blood, and the joining of our magic. Its roar echoed through me, and the infinite number of realms yawned.

Such power…

I stumbled towards the Gateway, smacking my hand against the rock. Its sharp nose cut me, and my blood melded with the stone.

The Gateway screeched victory.

Shouts behind me… My Immortals clutching at my shoulder…

Then my Immortals and I were dragged inside the Gateway and torn to burning pieces.