Rebel Academy: Crave

Chapter Eleven MAGENTA

If there was one thing that consoled me about my ghostly existence, it was that it proved life could always be rewritten. I’d never guessed that I’d discover a second chance at love after my death.

After all, I’d gone a little crazy but I wasn’t so conceited that I’d have dreamed the Immortals would offer me their hearts, calling me with a bond that screamed home, home home… I too craved each of them with a brutal desperation, longing to show them the love that had slumbered inside me for over a century, as I’d been trapped between the veil of life and death.

Now, as I watched in shock as the incubus, god, and my sweet mage traipsed into the glade that was silent apart from my fizzing magic, laughing and joking like it was a field trip to Hecate’s Tree, I realized one thing: they were just as crazy as me.

Had they no idea how many rules they were breaking or how harsh the punishment would be if they were caught? Didn’t they understand how much they should be shielding Fox from the dangers of the academy? Then I stiffened.

Cauldrons and candles, had even Robin’s death been forgotten?

I swung on a high branch of Hecate’s tree above the Immortals’ heads. Echo and Flair flapped through the night sky, moving as shadows across the pale moon, before landing either side of me.

Flair smoothed his ruffled feathers with his beak. Then he peered down at the Immortals, who were laying out their coats, before settling uncomfortably on the charred earth.

Flair whistled. “Well, fuck me.”

I wish that I had such a way with words.

“They came for you,” Echo said, wistfully.

My breath hitched, and my nails bit into the withered branch. I’d been desperate for anyone to remember me, but I didn’t want them to endanger themselves.

I was already lost, wasn’t I?

When Sleipnir peered upwards, catching my eye, I almost fell off the branch. He winked, before pretending that he couldn’t see me again. I grinned at the charming god’s antics.

“Stop thinking with your cock lane,” Flair grumbled. “These idiots are about to get their bollocks hexed off.”

“Would you awfully mind not referring to my flower as my cock lane?” I arched my brow.

Flair’s pink eyes glittered. “I apologize for the vulgar term, boss. Stop thinking with your quim, muff, cu—”

“Hold your peace and listen,” I hissed, flushing.

Down below in the glade, the Immortals sat in a circle on a nest of woolen coats, shivering. A single tied tea towel rested between them. Sleipnir set a crimson candle at the base of Hecate’s tree, before lighting it. The flame flared a sizzling magenta, before dying down into a wavering specter in the dark.

Sleipnir watched the flame with an odd intensity, before glancing back at Bask.

Bask rested his hand on Fox’s neck in a casual gesture of protection. “We’re at the heart of the academy. Can’t you sense…?”

“Hecate cursing the bravest but dumbest mage of his generation?” Fox looked up and down the tree like he was weighing up an opponent. Bright boy. “Forbidden. Dead. Sacred to witches.” He counted off each point on his fingers. “Do you have any idea how much trauma you’re creating in my mage psyche, unless this ritual that we’re about to do involves slicing my neck as the sacrifice?” His eyes widened. “Okay, I take that back. This neck is steel; the knife would just bounce off…”

My familiars cawed raucously in unison. I swooped lower. There’d be no sacrificing of mages in my glade.

Bask snorted. “Get on with you, just feel it. Magenta doesn’t wish blood, only love.”

I hovered above their heads, suddenly breathless. How did Bask seem to know me? Why did they all feel as familiar to me as family?

“Strip.” Sleipnir sat back on his heels, rifling in the pockets of one of the coats.

He pulled out a charm bag, which glittered with stars.

I shivered, as the hair raised on my nape. I ached to touch and be touched by Sleipnir again, and it’d be awfully nice to see my mage naked for the first time.

I admit, they were possibly as familiar as lovers, rather than family.

“You know that I adore your commanding voice,” Bask gazed at Sleipnir through half-lidded eyes that had warmth curling through me, “but it’s freezing, Slippy, and there are no blankets to snuggle.”

Sleipnir’s expression gentled. He was even more handsome when his eyes became soft like that. “Omens and runes, I swear that it won’t be for long, and I’ll find a way to keep you warm. It’s for the ritual. Hey, I know that this is a long shot, but we have to give this the best chance of freeing her.”

Freeing me…?

Sleipnir had made that promise beside the frozen lake, but that’d been before the Rebels had discovered who I truly was. I hadn’t wanted to deceive them. For once, I’d wanted the truth to be seen. Unfortunately, I’d never attempted to communicate as a ghost before, and the mirror hadn’t withstood my power. I winced at the thought of injuring Fox.

So, were they attempting to free me back into life or free me from my ghostly existence and finally, allow me to die in peace?

My breathing became too rapid, and I sank lower and lower.

I wasn’t ready. After all this time…not ready. I collapsed with my arms over my head. If I died, how could I protect the mage?

“Breathe,” Flair sounded panicked and very far away. “Why does an infernal ghost have to fucking breathe or else she does this fading trick?”

“I don’t care, mate. I just need my Magenta.” Echo’s wings curled around my back.

All of a sudden, I could smell the sweet woodsy scent of white sage smudge sticks burning: the start of the ritual.

I raised my head, cautiously.

Sleipnir had lit a red candle, which channeled passion.

Sweet Hecate, let them be sacrificing their pleasure to free and then love me because all I desired was to love them.

Moonlight drifted through the canopy of the trees, draping like delicate veils across the beautiful limbs of the naked Rebels, as they sprawled in the center of the glade. Sleipnir glanced over his muscled shoulder at me; his hair was candy pink tonight, and sea serpent tattoos wound around his arms. As I watched, the coils of the tattoo wound higher and tighter. Sleipnir’s smile was shy and concerned.

I blinked. Ah, the huddled and shaking thing.

I straightened onto my knees like I’d simply been studying some fascinating fauna on the (scorched) woodland floor. Echo sighed in relief, before perching on my shoulder, and Flair thwacked me around the head with his wing.

It was a delight to have such faithful familiars.

I watched with genuine fascination, as Bask bounced up and down (it wouldn’t be ladylike to say how much I enjoyed the sight of his bouncing prick), as Fox started to untie the tea towel.

“The feast before the sacrifice is the only decent part of this plan.” Bask bit his lip. “Feed me.”

At last, Fox undid the knot, and the flanneled towel fell open to reveal the food inside. “Ta da!”

They’d planned a picnic…? My Rebels had sneaked out at night from the castle, broken the rule to enter the Dead Wood, before violating the sanctity of Hecate’s Tree, and now they were going to merrily scoff a picnic?

I grinned. Robin would’ve loved them.

Sleipnir scanned the pile of squished sandwiches. “Well, that was underwhelming.”

Bask petted Fox in comfort.

Fox shrugged. “Do these hands look like they were trained in petty thievery? This was all I could steal from the kitchen that you shoved me into.”

“If it pleases you, did you see the Princes’ salmon, cupcakes, and special chocolates…?” Bask asked, hopefully.

Fox huffed. “All the luxury stuff was locked and warded in this separate larder with the sign: KEEP OUT, PRINCES ONLY. THAT MEANS YOU, IMMORTALS.”

“What kind of jerk would put their name on food?” Sleipnir sneered.

“Well, my first guess would be the Princes.” Fox grinned with sudden glee. “But look: I made crisp sandwiches.”

He picked up a sandwich, biting in with a sharp crunch. Then he munched on the crisps with an orgasmic sigh, which made me cross my legs.

Sleipnir stared at him. “My life is complete.”

Fox took another large bite. “This is salt and vinegar in buttery white bread. It’s the food of kings, my Norse friend.”

Grudgingly, both Sleipnir and Bask munched on a sandwich.

I shook my head. Forget the danger of Damelza, the witches, and the academy, the Rebels were in dire need of my picnic etiquette skills. On that alone, I had to find my way back to them. Where was the basket, napkins, and cutlery? I remembered my own picnics in these grounds with delicious roast beef, cucumber, or banana and sugar sandwiches, meat pies, and cakes with cream fillings.

Oh, and never forget the tea…

“You’re drooling, boss,” Flair muttered.

Echo hopped onto my head and then bent to stare me in the eye. “Are you having another flashback to your life again because it was boring the first time, and I know that you don’t want to relive it.”

Blushing, I shook him off my head, and he flew to a low branch with a series of rattling clicks.

When Fox wiped his hands on the tea towel, a hush fell on the glade. The candle was a bright point in the dark, focusing the magical energy, until it pulsed at the base of the tree. The intoxicating scent of white sage wound around all of us, binding us together.

“Should we pray?” Fox’s tongue darted out, wetting his dry lips. “Except, I’m a mage, and there’s a risk that if I pray to Hecate, my balls will be struck by lightning.”

“We can’t have that.” Sleipnir appeared to be struggling to hide his smile. “There are different ways to complete the ritual and sacrifice.”

Sleipnir pulled out some of the technology that Echo loved so much from the tangle of coats, before a modern song burst out, filling the glade with more lust and longing than I thought was possible in music alone. Gently, each of the Rebels kissed each other in turn, before Bask pulled Fox to his feet and swayed to the music like his soul was part of it. Fox wrapped his arms around Bask’s neck, whilst Bask laid his head on Fox’s chest. Their pleasure and love fed me, winding me higher, until sparkles lit the glade, brighter than any candle. As Bask rubbed his hips against Fox’s, I swallowed thickly. Shaky, I skimmed my hand along my jawline, before pressing it to my throat; my pulse fluttered underneath my fingertips.

I sighed. Please, please, let me be brought to life…

I found that I didn’t want to die.

Sleipnir studied Bask and Fox tenderly for a moment, before he shuffled to kneel at the base of Hecate’s Tree in front of the candle.

My brow furrowed. He was so close to me now that I could’ve reached over to smooth the dip of his tense shoulders. It took vast restraint not to press kisses down the exposed back of his neck. His naked submission for my sake was the most exquisite thing that I’d seen since my death. At least it was, until he slipped the pendant off from around his neck, which held a silver plectrum, and placed it before the candle: his sacrifice.

Then I realized that he was shaking.

Whatever Sleipnir had just sacrificed was of great value to him, and that made this moment the most exquisite thing that I’d witnessed since my death.

Sleipnir rested his hand over the plectrum like a goodbye. “Honestly, I know that this may seem like a poor offering, Hecate, but trust me, it’s everything to me. Dad could never give my brothers and me much. He knew that I loved my guitar, however, and when I turned eighteen, he gifted me this.” He tightened his hands around the plectrum. “I’ve never taken it off. It’s all I have of dad, since the witches kidnapped me.” My eyes burned. I wanted to scream at him to take it back, but he hadn’t even glanced at me. His head hung down, and his hair covered his eyes. “But dad would want me to give it up to free you. He’d be proud.”

“I’m proud too,” I whispered.

Sleipnir’s head jerked up, and our gazes met. His eyes gleamed brightly with unshed tears. “What do you want from us?”

Well, this god certainly didn’t pull his punches.

I shot a look at Flair, who was still perched on my shoulder but more like a devil than a guardian angel. With a reluctant sigh, he flapped to join Echo.

Then I inched closer, before resting my hands on either side of Sleipnir’s head, pulling him towards me, until my lips grazed his on each word, “I want you to hold me, need me, love me.”

When Sleipnir claimed my mouth with a moan that echoed the yearning that had swirled for long decades inside me, his lips were hot and his tongue warmed me. He smelled of raspberries, almonds, and co-co; his bonding with Fox and Bask lingered in his kiss. I could touch all of them at once.

Bask stopped dancing with a gasp. “Either it pleases you to kiss thin air or you can see my Magenta.” He dragged Fox with him to crouch either side of Sleipnir. “What does she desire?”

When Sleipnir cocked his eyebrow at me, I became quite giddy with the power of such decisions.

Fox snickered. “Shouldn’t we be shagging over a pottery wheel?”

First, I learned that elves wanted to play with snowmen, and now that mages were intimate over clay. The world was strange indeed.

“I’d imagine that we should start with a kiss,” I tried for casual, but Sleipnir’s gaze was too knowing.

“She wants a kiss,” Sleipnir stated.

Fox’s eyes lit up, and a slow smile spread across his face. Then he wrapped himself around me with intense concentration and sucked on my earlobe. Wow, that tickled and wasn’t unpleasant.

Sleipnir chuckled.

“Would you mind terribly informing him that he’s missed my mouth?” I squirmed away. When Fox sat back, looking shyly happy though, I quickly added, “Wait. Don’t tell him that. Just… Pass on my thanks.”

“She says that you’re an awesome kisser, although not as good as me,” Sleipnir informed Fox.

Perhaps, I should fire Sleipnir as my interpreter.

Fox’s face fell, before he frowned. “You do remember that I’m literally able to tell when you’re lying?”

Sleipnir only patted Fox on the head, before Bask slunk lower, bending down like he was prostrating himself. “Hey, her mouth isn’t down there.”

“She didn’t say where she wanted to be kissed.” Bask glanced up at me teasingly from underneath his eyelashes.

On the witching heavens, I could almost believe that I wasn’t invisible. Even though the tips of my ears suddenly became red with embarrassment, I still nodded at Sleipnir who sat back.

Bask licked, as if testing for the coldness of the air, before nipping kisses up my thighs. I knelt up, allowing my dress to fade to mist, before widening my legs. Bask’s lips pressed to my inner thighs in worshipful lines. I struggled not to shield the most intimate part of myself, which I’d been taught no one but my husband had a right to touch. Yet that had been whilst I’d lived, and before my own mother had tried to marry me off to a fae prince.

Dying had truly changed my whole perspective on virginity. Also, the game of Wank Count. I’m certain that I knew far more about the Rebels’ fantasies than any witch before me.

When Bask’s soft lips kissed across the cotton of my drawers, licking and sucking at them, I arched my back, clasping my hands to my neck and my choker necklace like that could stop the coiling inside me. I’d never experienced such a sensation, even with Robin. When I pushed closer, riding Bask’s face in rhythmic waves, he gasped; Sleipnir’s eyes were dark, as he watched me.

Sweet Hecate, please, please, please…

My magic prickled and sparked inside me, until it burst out at the same time as the wave of spasmed pleasure that screamed through me. I fell back against Hecate’s Tree in shock, as my heart beat wildly.

The candle blew itself out.

“I think you’ve killed her,” Sleipnir breathed.

“Actually, it could be the opposite.” Fox pushed himself to his feet, before reaching down to pull up Bask and Sleipnir.

My magic pulsed through the roots of the tree, before exploding upwards, lighting the branches that swayed in a dance of their own. Finally, magic sparkled like blossoms in the midst of winter down onto the Rebels in blessing.

Bask let out a delighted laugh, catching sparkles in his palm. “Never underestimate the power of an incubus kiss.”

“Boss,” Flair’s voice was softer than I’d ever heard it, “look by your hand right. Fucking. Now.”

When I forced my hazy brain to focus, I saw a snowdrop had pushed its head through the dead earth for the first time since I’d been burned to death here. I gasped. Then I glanced up and realized that the Rebels were also staring in amazement at the tiny white flowers that’d been brought to life by our love and magic.

By the ritual.

Snap my broomstick, had it worked?

For the first time in over a century, the ghost like paleness of a barn owl swooped across the glade, before frogs croaked out their song. Then tears did streak my cheeks because maybe I wasn’t lost, if the glade that I’d loved with Robin (and that had been murdered by my mother), could be reborn.

“I never thought that a mage could help create something so beautiful.” Fox shook, ducking his head. “But understatement of the century: something bad happened here. It screams through my magic that it murdered these trees and Magenta too. Okay, I know that I’m a brilliant kisser.” I tried to smother my laughter, especially as he lifted his finger and pointed it above my head, “And no denials, future Mrs Fox.” Well, that shut me up. Was that how men proposed nowadays? “But Hecate’s Tree should be trying to burn me, whacking me in the face, or spanking me. The Hecate statues in the bailey had a lot of fun playing Hurt the Fox.”

“What if the House of Crows are controlling the ones in the academy or this is the true Hecate?” Bask offered.

“Then what if the goddess saved Magenta and trapped her? Maybe we should touch—”

“You’re suggesting we become tree huggers?” Sleipnir’s gaze met mine with a dancing amusement.

Fox strode to the tree, encircling it with his arms. “Who’s a gorgeous hunk of wood, hmm?”

Bask sidled next to him, resting his cheek on the trunk. “You can spank him now, Hecate.”

When Sleipnir strode to join them, resting his hand against the blackened wood, I concentrated on pulsing my magic through it. He jerked, panting. Then he wrapped himself more fully around the trunk.

I shuddered like a thread was winding too tightly around me. My eyelids fluttered.

Was it working? Would I finally be saved?

Candles and broomsticks…

The glade lit with an eerie light, and my breath caught.

“I guessed that you’d have the shortest student record before being sent to my study, mage,” Damelza’s enraged voice boomed out of the shadows, “but even I didn’t imagine that it would be for violating such a sacred place.”

I shook, staring at the academy’s Principal, as she swept towards my Rebels who were still hugging the tree. Her feather coat was ruffled up in her outrage. She trampled on the newly born snowdrops. I hated both the way that she glared only at Fox like he must’ve been the corrupting influence (my mother had always thought the same about Robin), and that I felt too weak to stand.

Echo and Flair hopped in front of me protectively.

“Awkward,” Bask mock whispered.

“Why do we always get into these situations?” Sleipnir groaned.

Fox tilted his head. “Perhaps because we keep hanging around with our dicks out…?”

“Silence, Confess,” Damelza snarled. “Didn’t you think that your brands would’ve alerted me that you were outside the castle without permission? Tomorrow you’ll come to my study for punishment. I knew that the shimage criminality ran too deeply within you. I wonder if the taint can be cut out.”

“Sorry, but I’m bad to the bone,” Fox smirked.

“Let’s test that, shall we?” Damelza’s eyes glittered with malice.

She plucked a feather from her hair and shot it flying at Fox. When the feather sliced Fox’s cheek, he gasped, hugging the tree tighter. He rested his bloody cheek against it, squeezing shut his eyes in pain. His blood trickled down the grooves of the dead tree.

Bask gasped, snatching Fox to his chest and backing away, as Sleipnir stepped in front of them. Damelza stalked closer.

My eyes widened, as that winding sensation began in my middle again but more intensely this time. The tree pulsed brighter and brighter. I was fading.

Would I be freed or die?

It turned out that Hecate had demanded both love and blood. She was an ancient deity, after all, and Fox had been the lamb.

Ah, irony.

“You promised not to leave me,” Echo wept. “Promised.”

All of a sudden, my vision grayed. My stomach lurched. I faded to nothingness, and then…

The trunk of Hecate’s tree cracked open like a womb, and I slithered from its insides at Damelza’s feet.

At long last, I was reborn as a living witch.