Foretold (St. Bastian Institute 1)

“Sven and I spent decades enslaved within the reylite mines. Me because I was born part warlock and part demon, and Sven because he was part demon, part vampire,” Vasilios said. “He saved my life countless times, and I his.”

“You still haven’t explained why you marked me,” I said, swallowing thickly.

Vasilios stepped to the other side of the counter. Even the way he moved was striking, swift and sure, certainly not clumsy like he’d pretended to be as Nic.

“It wasn’t my intention to mark you. I was watching your house one day, doing some reconnaissance on your parents, when I spied you standing by a window. I’d never seen a creature quite like you. You were like me, a hybrid, but you weren’t enslaved. You were free. Freer than any person I’d ever laid eyes on. When you’ve been trapped for a large portion of your life, freedom becomes an obsession. You were completely unshackled, body, mind, and spirit, and I was mesmerised.” His eyes grew hot as they swept down my body. “Demons in my dimension can mark people we want to … possess, and I’d instinctively marked you before I even realised it was happening.”

Oh. Oh. So, he wasn’t pretending when he chose to kiss me. He really did like me. Strike that—it appeared he had some kind of obsession with me. And his mark meant he wanted to possess me? What the hell? Was that why the prophecy for my future had been knocked off course? Did he plan to steal me away to Oreylia?

“If you did it unintentionally, then surely you can take it back,” I stated.

He shook his head. “That’s not how it works. Once given, a demon’s mark cannot be returned.”

I made a frustrated sound. “You’ve messed up my future by marking me, do you know that?”

Vasilios laughed. “I presume you’re referring to the prophecy of your birth? I haven’t ruined your future. I’ve stabilised it. But you won’t see that for a long time yet.”

My frustration built. “What do you even want from me?”

His gaze smouldered. “Everything.” He reached out to stroke my cheek. Again, I bristled, and he noticed, backing away. “But I can be patient. I know it will take time for you to understand me truly.”

“If you plan on murdering my parents, then I can guarantee that will never happen.”

His eyes flashed black. “Your parents have murdered far more people than I ever will. They and all the others involved in my father’s death are the reason I spent decades enslaved in the mines. They’re the reason I suffered the kind of fate where you beg for death.”

I swallowed, my chest tight as my eyes traced the awful scar that ran down his face. “I’m sorry that happened to you, but you can’t blame my parents. They risked their lives to protect this city. They were fighting a war, and wars always have casualties. Besides, your father wasn’t an innocent victim. I’ve heard dozens of stories about Theodore, and none of them paint him in a good light. He was a psychopath.”

“Watch your mouth, Darya. You might possess my mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe.” A flash of madness entered his gaze, and a brick lodged in my throat.

“You think you know me, but you don’t,” I whispered, my eyes narrowed to slits.

Vasilios tilted his head, the ghost of amusement on his face. “I know that you’ve had Peter’s voice in your head for the last month, though I am disappointed you haven’t grown tired of him yet.”

I stilled, a moment of quiet passing before I whispered, “It was you. You messed with the spell.”

“You were determined to solve the mystery of Mr. Williams’ murder. I needed to provide you with a distraction. Well, I also hoped you’d come to your own conclusion that Peter isn’t right for you. I thought, with his voice in your head, he’d have gotten on your nerves by now, and you’d see your schoolgirl crush was misplaced. I’ve often been told that familiarity breeds contempt.” He paused, eyeing me like he was disappointed. “Seemingly, that hasn’t happened yet.”

“What else have you done?” I demanded. “You didn’t want me figuring out who killed Mr. Williams. Does that mean it was you?”

“Sven killed the teacher on my command,” he answered, and more things fell into place. If Sven was part vampire, then it made sense that he was the killer.

“Why?”

“Mr Williams was a close friend of the real Nic Baumann’s father, and he’d gotten a bee in his bonnet about not being able to contact him. He kept calling to the house, so I needed to get rid of him.”

“What?” I started to hyperventilate. “You had him killed just because he was snooping around?”

Vasilios got a wild look in his eyes. “Aren’t you happy that he’s dead? Where I come from, people are killed for far less than the disrespect that teacher showed you in front of an entire classroom. He was lucky I didn’t have Sven torture him for days after the way he shamed you.”