CHAPTER ONE
Zeph yawned. “Whose idea was it to study ancient texts?”
My kenzoku and I sat on cushions on the floor of the classroom in Spire 10, surrounded by books with torn pages and faded covers that smelled of forgotten spices.
Sage gave him a look of disdain. “If you open your mouth any wider, you might accidentally swallow the universe.”
“I think I read something about that prophecy on page seventy.” Barris pretended to thumb through the pages of a book with only half a cover. “Yep, says so right here. Lazy demon-human hybrid in danger of destroying the world when boredom sets in.”
Zeph peered over his shoulder. “Where? I don’t see it.”
Barris clucked his tongue. “Because it’s written in Etruscan and you haven’t been diligent enough in your studies to properly translate it.”
“Liar,” Zeph said. “I dream in Etruscan when I sleep.”
“You don’t even dream in English,” Barris said. “I’m fairly confident it’s a picture parade in there.” He knocked on Zeph’s head.
“We don’t have to study all the ancient texts,” I said, feeling guilty. “Only the important ones.”
“Yeah, but good luck figuring out which ones qualify as important,” Rylan grumbled. “All these symbols and signs are burning my retinas and I actually like this stuff.”
Zeph used his control over air to flip the pages of a book without touching them, one of the perks of being half fomorian demon. “This is all because of one stupid prophecy. We’re in the home stretch. We should be focused on graduation. Right now, I feel woefully unprepared.”
Rylan smirked. “I’d like to hear you tell the Elders that.”
“What do you think we should be doing instead?” Sage asked.
Zeph shrugged. “I don’t know. Everyday skills so we can navigate our lives? I still have trouble adding money in my head so that I know how much change I should get back from a cashier.”
“Cassia might not have a life left to navigate,” Sage pointed out. “What if the king finds out the truth about her and sends his minions to kill her?”
The king. Ruler of the Nether. Ruthless shakti demon.
My grandfather.
Rylan seemed to sense my distress. “Prophecies aren’t always what they seem,” the succubus hybrid said. “History has shown us that much.”
“Except this one seems pretty straightforward,” I said. “Birth of me equals death of the king.” According to my aunt, Yara, the king called upon a seer after my father’s birth. The prince was his firstborn son and the king was eager to glimpse the boy’s achievements. The seer warned him of a prophecy—that the birth of the prince’s first child would mean the king’s doom. After that, the king grew paranoid and unreasonable and accused his advisors of conspiring against him. It also seemed to whet his appetite for expansion, as though owning more of the realm would somehow insulate him from the prophecy.
Barris blew a raspberry. “Haven’t you been paying attention? No prophecy is ever straightforward. It might not even happen at all.”
“As much as I hate to admit it, tornado butt is right,” Sage said.
Barris flicked a glance in her direction. “What do you mean you hate to admit it? You love it when I’m right. Just last night, you told me…”
Sage leveled him with a look. “Let’s stay focused on Cassia’s issue before you say something you’ll regret.”
“There’s no issue,” I said, closing the book in front of me. “The king believes I’m the daughter of Yara, not the prince, so I’m not in any danger.” Yet.
“Yeah, we have no idea when you’re going to commit patricide.” Zeph’s brow furrowed. “Wait. That’s when you kill your dad. What’s it called when you kill your own grandpa?”
I bristled. “Can we not refer to him as my grandpa?”
“But that’s what he is,” Zeph countered.
“He’s my grandfather, not Grandpa,” I said. “It’s not like we drink lemonade on the front porch together and play chess.” The demon king wore a garland of bones and tortured shades in a private room in his palace in the Nether. He wasn’t what anyone in any realm would call grandfatherly.
Zeph scratched the nape of his neck. “Still must be weird for you. Do you feel guilty at all, knowing what you’re going to do to him?”
“We don’t know that I’m going to do anything!” The words exploded from me with surprising force, causing my cheeks to burn from embarrassment.
“You’re the one who said the prophecy is straightforward,” Barris said, adopting a gentler tone. The djinni hybrid seemed to take pity on me. I didn’t blame him. I was pitiful.
Rylan clutched a book to her chest, her eyes shining. “If you think your fulfillment of the prophecy is inevitable, then you’re a fatalist. You believe that events like your grandfather’s death by your hand are fixed in advance and there’s no way to avoid them. That the future is preordained to happen a certain way regardless of your choices.” She studied me closely. “Is that what you really think?”
I leaned back in my chair and tipped my chin toward the ceiling in exasperation. “I honestly don’t know what I believe anymore. I can’t picture me charging back to the Nether and murdering my grandfather, but I can’t rule out the possibility that I’ll end up in that situation eventually.”
Sage shut the book in front of her and shifted her legs to the side. “Does it even matter whether the prophecy is bound to happen?” she asked. “Ultimately if the king believes in it, then that’s all that matters.”
“Which means Cassia’s in danger regardless of what she believes,” Rylan added.
“Yeah, the king wouldn’t risk letting her live if he knew she was the one,” Zeph said. “He’d want to eliminate any potential threats to his power. I know that’s what I’d do.”
“Fair enough, but it sure feels different when that threat is one of your best friends,” Sage said.
Zeph scrunched his face. “What if you sent a message that said, hey, I’m actually your prophesied granddaughter, but just so you know, we’re cool and I’m going to exercise my free will and not murder you?”
Sage rolled her eyes. “Did you miss the part where the king is ruthless and paranoid?”
“Unfortunately, no one’s going to convince him that free will exists when his ancestors were granted the authority to rule by the gods,” Rylan said.
Barris stroked his chin. “I don’t agree that the two ideas are incompatible. A single prophecy can come to pass and living creatures still exercise free will.”
Rylan nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Indeterminism.”
“I’ll tell you what’s inevitable,” Sage said. “The raging headache this conversation is sure to cause if we keep going.” She nudged the book further away from her with her foot.
Barris patted the top of her head. “I know you’re more interested in bones than brains.”
She smacked his hand away. “Don’t patronize me.” Before she pulled back, he grabbed her hand and kissed it with exaggerated gallantry.
I couldn’t resist a smile. Although we suspected those two were an item, they’d yet to admit it. Sage still pretended that Barris was beneath her and Barris still acted like a faithful puppy, but their chemistry was undeniable.
As I glanced at the doorway, my smile faded at the sight of Elder Sam. The seraph seemed equally unhappy to see me. Ever since my return from the Nether, relations between us had been strained. I’d recently discovered that he and the other Elders had known my father’s identity all along and kept it secret from me. They’d even feigned ignorance about the type of demon I was, pretending that their tests over the years had revealed nothing concrete. Their betrayal had hurt, but Elder Sam’s had hurt the most.
“I think it’s time for your sparring session, Cassia,” Rylan said.
“What gave it away?” Barris asked. “The large sword in Elder Sam’s hand or the murderous glint in his eye?”
Elder Sam blinked. “There’s no murderous glint.”
To anyone else, Elder Sam cut an imposing figure even without the large sword and murderous glint. After seventeen years, I was accustomed to his facial scars and the bumps on his back that had once sprouted a beautiful set of wings.
I pushed myself to my feet. “Well, you’d better adopt a glint real quick because I’m in the mood to fight.”
Barris whistled. “Looks like it’s going to be a doozy of a session. Can we watch? I promise I won’t lick the glass this time.”
“I think you have your own studies to attend to,” Elder Sam said, and turned on his heel.
I followed him to the armory where he let me choose my weapon. As I reached for the katana, he made a disapproving noise.
I turned to look at him. “Frog in your throat?”
He pulled a face. “No, no.”
“I didn’t think so.”
He retrieved his artificial wings from where they hung on the adjacent wall. “It’s just that you can see the sword I’m holding, so I’m curious as to your rationale for choosing the katana.”
I plucked the weapon from the wall with exaggerated movement. “I’m choosing the katana because I can kick your angelic butt with a toothpick if I really want to. The katana is just for show.” I sheathed the blade and marched past him to the hatch, where we exited the spire and launched ourselves into the open air.
Domus Academy wasn’t your typical boarding school. For starters, it wasn’t even located on land. The hidden academy was comprised of ten spires that loomed high above the city of Philadelphia in the mortal realm. I’d spent the last seventeen years in the main spire with the Elders and had only recently moved into Spire 10 to spend my remaining time at the academy with my peers, otherwise known as my kenzoku. Sage, Barris, Rylan, Zeph and I would be leaving the academy at the same time, once we’d satisfied the requirements for graduation. I had mixed feelings about leaving. On the one hand, Domus Academy was the only home I’d ever known. On the other hand, I was ready to start an independent life that didn’t involve the Elders’ rules. I wanted to flex my wings and see what I was capable of. I also looked forward to spending more time with Rafe, the handsome nephilim assigned as a Watcher by Dominion to protect mortals from supernatural activity.
“Cassia, focus,” Elder Sam barked. He caught the ends of my white hair with the blade and I watched as the fringe drifted to the earth two thousand feet below.
“I needed a haircut anyway.” I flew backward to put more distance between us and plan my next move. He was right about the katana. It had been a stupid choice, but I didn’t care. The fact that my decision annoyed him gave me immense satisfaction.
The seraph shot toward me and raised his longsword. Although I managed to block the blow, I knew the blade had suffered damage. Elder Alastor wouldn’t be happy about that. He preferred to keep the inventory in good shape so he didn’t need to buy replacements. I tossed the katana onto the rim of the nearest spire and let the demonic power surge through me. My palms answered the call and began to itch.
“I told you the katana was only for show,” I said, as my hands sparked.
Elder Sam still brandished his longsword. “You’re angry.”
A bitter laugh escaped me. “You’re just figuring that out now?”
The seraph flapped his artificial wings and flew to the top of the nearest spire, not that it put him out of my reach. There was nowhere he could go to escape me.
“You shouldn’t fight when you’re angry,” he said. “You’re more prone to mistakes.”
“It’s not like I had a choice,” I said. “It was time for our session.”
“The Elders aren’t the enemy, Cassia.”
“Are you sure? Because the lines seem awfully blurry to me.”
“We only wanted to protect you. You must realize that.”
I released a burst of magical energy in his direction, forcing him to vacate his post. “Secrets and lies aren’t protection. They’re a betrayal.”
Elder Sam dared to glide closer to me. “You’re alive, aren’t you? You’re thriving. You have a future. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
Not right now it didn’t. This morning I’d woken from another nightmare where everyone had worn animal masks so that I couldn’t identify anyone and didn’t know whom to trust. It didn’t take a psychologist to figure out the root cause. By the time I’d inhaled my breakfast, I was ready to fight a battalion of monsters. Although I hadn’t been thrilled to see Elder Sam in the doorway, I knew sparring with him would be the perfect outlet for my emotions.
My hands glowed again and I shot a focused beam of light at the hilt of his longsword. When he let go, I swooped under him and caught the sword.
“Mine now,” I said. I slashed at his foot and missed as he flew higher.
“The hazards of raising you alone in the main spire,” Elder Sam said. “You never learned to share.”
“Neither did you, apparently,” I said. “Not when it comes to important information anyway.” I streaked toward him and hacked unsuccessfully at his leg. “Tell me about my father.”
“You already know what I know.” He spun away from me to avoid the blade.
“Let’s compare notes and see.” I pressed harder. It felt good to attack him, even though I knew deep down that I’d never actually hurt him. Whatever minor wounds I managed to inflict would heal quickly, thanks to his seraph blood.
“His name is Prince Tarquin, the only son of the King of the Nether. Thankfully, he’s not the paranoid megalomaniac that his father is.” His breathing grew labored as he dodged my persistent strikes. “What more is there to know?”
I grazed his arm, causing blood to bubble along the jagged line. “How did you know he was my father?”
“Dominion,” he said with a cursory glance at the injury.
“Dominion is a place.”
“I don’t remember more than that.” I knew him well enough to know that he was holding something back.
Well, I sure wasn’t.
I held a glowing palm in front of the blade and set it alight. I enjoyed the sharp intake of breath that followed. He jerked to the side, but I caught the tip of his wings, leaving scorch marks on the feathers. Elder Alastor wouldn’t be happy about that either, given that he’d made the set of artificial wings for the seraph.
“I appreciate that you’re upset,” Elder Sam said, “but I think we should talk about it rather than fight about it.” He flew to retrieve the katana that I’d discarded. Any port in a storm, apparently.
“You always told me it was important to express my feelings,” I said.
As he flew closer, the damaged wing lost a few more feathers. We watched as they spiraled together on their way to the ground and I felt a pang of guilt. I was the reason he wore these false wings in the first place, and now I’d damaged his replacement pair. He’d been mutilated and cast out of Dominion because of me. Before I was born, he’d been a valuable asset in Dominion…until he was sent to kill me. Instead of following through with the deed, Elder Sam had fought a Whistler—one of five mercenaries that combed the realms for demonspawn—and saved me instead. As a result, the seraphim tortured him and rendered him almost unrecognizable as a seraph. They tore every feather from his wings and burned them into stumps as a stark reminder of his betrayal and cast him out of Dominion forever.
But none of that gave him the right to lie to me.
I lifted the longsword and charged.
“I think it might be wise to switch to simulations.” I halted at the sound of Elder Kali’s voice. “Otherwise, I fear we’ll need to hire Elder Sam’s replacement before too long and you know how Elder Alastor feels about change.”
My arm dropped to my side as I observed the stern Elder on the brow of the main spire.
“We’re fortunate Cassia is one of ours,” Elder Sam said with forced cheer. “I’d hate to face her in battle.” Although his mouth curved into a smile, his eyes retained their look of sadness. There was a weight to him that never seemed to ease.
“Indeed,” Elder Kali said. She didn’t bother to smile at all.
The hatch opened and Elder Bahaira slipped onto the brow. Her usually pleasant face was pinched with fear and anxiety. “Someone’s breached the ward,” she said.
Elder Kali jerked toward her. “External or internal?”
“External,” Elder Bahaira said.
Elder Sam glanced at the katana and I knew what he was thinking. Two of us were already out here and armed, and it wouldn’t take long to assemble my kenzoku.
Elder Asago bolted through the hatch, waving his arms. “It’s safe. There’s no threat.”
“Are you sure?” Elder Bahaira asked, peering downward. “I see…”
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