CHAPTER 18
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Iswaggered into thelast class of the day with my witch friend by my side and other half-bloods flanking me.
“Icy Dagger is here.” A demon spat.
The pureblood demons watched me with hatred, fear, and certain respect, their eyes darting between my vicious face and my twitching hands hovering over my swords. I wanted to kill them. The urge was strong. As soon as they provoked me, I would attack.
After many battles in various classes and many foes felled under my blades, the purebloods usually gave me a wide berth.
We still fought in the battle class, but they wouldn’t cut down those who were under my protection. If they hurt one of mine, I cut down five of them in retaliation.
The pureblood instructors were wary of me as well, but the half-blood instructors sided with me. Some of the mage instructors also backed me up.
Everyone was now just trying to stay alive through graduation so we could all face our “common enemies”—the demigods and their armies.
The term in Hell’s Academy was six months, versus three years in the Half-Blood Academy.
My heart pounded against my rib cage at the prospect of going to the surface to “fight” the demigods. I didn’t believe that Lucifer would ever allow me to have the privilege before he was sure that I was his completely.
At any given moment, Lucifer and Ares could come to collect me.
Mom had mapped out their ultimate plans, and they were hellbent on using me as their most lethal weapon to do their conquering. Their spies were watching my every move, yet I had the upper hand.
I had exclusive knowledge.
Mom had taught me useful things in the Dreaming. I now knew how and where to draw in Hell’s energy and drink its potent hellfire. Hell could no longer erase the demigods from my memory.
As long as I held onto my mates, I’d never be turned, though I would certainly pretend to be turned and beat the god and the devil at their own games.
I grinned savagely at the image of burning my immortal enemies and bleeding them dry.
“So, who’s this new instructor everyone’s talking about?” I asked. “Is he a half-blood, a demon, or something else? Is he going to tell us to introduce ourselves by maiming and killing a fellow student?” I pointed at a few powerful demon students—my intended victims should that be the case. “And to sit on your corpse to listen to his boring lecture? You sick fuckers think violence is an art and get off from it. There’s nothing artistic about your kind of crude carnage, though I won’t mind slaying you all.”
The demons snarled, but they managed to rein in their bloodlust. It wouldn’t end well for them to attack me. They were getting smart.
“I’ll do none of those things,” a bright female voice announced. “This is the class for mastering illusions.”
Esme Von Rouche, the Headmistress of the Half-Blood Academy in her unimpeachable black suit, walked into the room.
I spat, my eyes burning. “Or fucking deception.”
If Loki hadn’t revealed the headmistress’s true identity, I’d never have known that she was Vi, my former guardian who had taken me in, given me a temporary home, and then vanished on me without a trace.
Only to surface a few years later and arrange to have me brought to the Half-Blood Academy, where she posed as the headmistress to monitor me for the Prince of Hell.
The woman who stalked into the classroom didn’t look like Esme, but this time I could see through her glamour.
As Vi, she’d appeared in her early thirties with warm, brown eyes and chestnut hair. As Esme, her eyes had appeared a pale green and her auburn hair had been pinned stylishly to the top of her head, not a single hair out of place.
The “new instructor” bore the appearance of a black witch with jet black hair and red lips. Dark magic rippled around her.
Her deep, gray eyes held my cold, furious gaze, betraying no emotions.
“They’re coming for you, Marigold,” she said softly.