by A. Vers
If the Hallow is surprised, he doesn’t remark on it.
We speed down the stairs. “Everybody up!” I scream, already feeding a touch of power into the alarms in the wall.
Darting light proceeds opening doors and pounding steps.
“Midnight is under attack,” I call. “Defend the embassy or fall under its power.”
Supernaturals speed into the foyer, some with eyes that glow and others with magick spinning from their hands.
Something hits the front door with a thud, making my teeth grind as the pressure on the wards splits my head in two.
I wince. “Fan out. Cover every entrance and exit. Nothing gets in or it’s your hides I kick.”
They scatter, racing toward the kitchen and to every window lining the outer walls. Some flee back toward the guest hallway, disappearing in swirls of fabric and steel.
I pace to the half wall and grip the greeting desk. Nix helps to shove it against the door. I dump out my bag. Stones and silver jewelry scatter all over the top. I start slipping every piece onto my skin until I gleam in the dark.
“You really need to go into the vault, too,” I say, adding the last thick bangle to my wrist. The emerald cabochon glimmers with prismatic sheens of light, and I filter some of my erratic magick into it.
The rhythmic whoosh of a sword has me glancing up.
Nix’s irises burn with his power and a trickle of midnight flame flows down his blade. He pulls a short dagger too. “Chol is my charge. You should be down there.”
My teeth bare. “And Midnight is my home. I was told to protect both of you. You need to get in the damn vault.”
He pulls up his hood, and the lower half of his vest covers his mouth and nose. The fabric shimmers, giving tantalizing peeks of his full lips while hiding his vibrant hair. “After you…” The words are a cold challenge.
I growl, but shove the last crystals in my bra and snag my twin dirks as another bang sounds. The wards over the front door flex inward with the strike. It tears a gasp from my lips.
“Get ready,” I say, vision glazing as I try to fortify the battered wards. On my own. Nix steps up beside me, his shoulder tight to mine. Sun warmed leather and a hint of ash flows from his form in a cloud of masculinity.
This close his power is scalding, like standing inside an inferno. My magick skates along his, tasting it. I force it to calm with a breathless groan, and grind my hands into the jeweled hilts of my blades.
Not now, I say to it.
The front door and every window caves inward with an explosion that rattles the house. Every ward on the outer walls sputters and dies under the assault. I sway.
Gods.
Darkness rests beyond the now empty opening of the front doors. Impenetrable and bleak. It sets my teeth on edge.
I cast out carefully with my sight, searching for the direction of our midnight visitor. A dark tendril slams into me, sending my energy back into my body.
My chest heaves and a strong shoulder presses into mine, holding me upright. “Sayah?” Nix’s deep rumble is close to my ear, thrumming through my insides. It’s the first time he has said my name.
I peer at him, searching the flecks of citrine, gold, and blood-red in his eyes. “It’s an astral energy,” I murmur. “It attacked my…magick.”
He turns away. “Then we need to bring it onto this plain to kill it.”
The temperature in the room begins to plummet, and my breath fogs the air. Dark smoke rolls over the steps across from me.
Hells.
“I don’t think we need to worry about bringing it over…” I murmur.
Nix spins beside me, sword and dagger raised. He takes one look at the roiling wave of blackness before the night fractures inward in a rain of smoke and magick.
Chapter 5
Dark humanoid shapes barrel into the foyer, swinging out with stumped appendages made of smog. I duck under Nix’s swinging sword and toss a triad of thin green gems onto the floor. “Soill!” The incantus flows from my lips like the verse of a song, and a sickly green glow erupts in a wave of light. Some of the darkness retreats.
Every supernatural in the room bellows and rushes forward.
Shadow slams into shifting claws and gleaming fang. Snarls, growls, and roars rend the dimness. Channeling power from my gems, I drop to my knees and slice into every shadow that gets within reach.
Nix slams his pommel into the misshapen face of the nearest creature, but the blade handle sinks deep into the fog. “I thought you said we didn’t need to bring it through,” he grunts, slashing into the figure’s midsection with a pulse of ebony flames.
The steam hisses and real smoke emanates forth in a foul, acrid wave.
I give him a ‘well, there you go’ look before turning away. My dirks weave and jab, sinking deep into the surprisingly cool mist. It tickles along my skin, sentient and alive. Every little drop crackles with power, something ancient and so deep it is beyond comprehension. But the rage…that is easy enough to read.
Nix bends at the waist as a dark creature swipes hooked-like hands toward his head. The thin line of his braid flies, and his boot slams deep into the thing’s lower half. The plates of armor over his legs glint for a moment, just like his dagger.
Obsidian armor?
Something icy flows down my spine, and I whirl, cursing my inattention and slamming my twin blades into the recurved dips where the thing’s eyes should be.
I rip my daggers free, already moving to the next before it ever starts to slump. That was too close.
All around the room, shadows seem to come alive, grabbing and swallowing supernaturals whole. A long tendril rears up behind Nix.
The blade leaves my hand.
He whips to the side just as the jeweled end whizzes past his cheek. It slams into the dark feeler, pinning it with magick.
Nix sprints over the floor without so much as a thank you. His dark cloak is a blur as he slices, dodges, and strikes. A whirlwind of those strange flames of his seem to trail behind him with every step. Like shadowed fire.
Something moves out of my peripheral and I swing up with my remaining blade. Midnight fog grabs onto my arms with more strength than smoke should have. I wrench, trying to break away. Those talon like tips slip over my bracelets to dig into my flesh. My skin splits. The first trickle of my blood flows down my elbow.
Oh no.
My power responds in a hair raising rush to the injury.
“Nix!”
It’s the only warning I can give as my magick explodes from me in swirls of ice blue and white light. The room fades behind that glow. Harsh screams, like nails down a chalkboard, echo in from the darkness outside.
Every shadow is obliterated, every shred of dark burned into nothing more than a memory. Along with all the power in my veins and all the magick in the house.
But I can’t stop the flow, can’t stifle it. My arms are sticky, wet to the elbow and aching. I sag to the floor, quaking as I try to keep my face from hitting the marble. A different kind of darkness dances in and out of my mind, pulling until everything is heavy. Floating.
“Sayah?”
My eyelids flutter uselessly as every muscle throbs. Did I fall asleep? I lean against something solid, but warm. It’s oddly comforting.
“Sayah? Sayah, what did you do?” Nix’s voice flows in and out like it’s coming from a distance. “How do you stop the light? Answer me!”
I try to blink past the remaining glow, to bring him into focus. But everything hurts. Even my eyes.
“My arms,” I croak, staring at the darker form that is Nix’s face above mine. “Stop…the…bleeding…”
He shifts me in his arms. Something sears my flesh, but my scream is weak, addled. Burning skin fills my nose in an acrid wash and my arm twitches, pulling more of the lingering darkness closer. Without a sound, I am jostled and pressed against a rock-hard wall of scalding muscle.
The vibrant light fades on a tidal wave of exhaustion, and I sag into the cool
dark that waits.
Ѻ
I open my eyes and stare up at the concrete and wood ceiling above. A single candle sways from a chain, the light it casts barely enough to peer into the gloom. My head throbs, and I sit up with a groan.
Warm hands close over my shoulders, easing me upright. “Easy, Sayah.” Chol’s voice is mild and surprisingly kind.
I turn my head slowly to find him next to me on an old, ugly green cot. The little military bed is barely long enough for me, and my head was nestled against his thigh. He offers a small, reassuring smile, and I gaze around at our surroundings. The vault walls are in shadow, the wards dull now, depleted, but a pair of glimmering crimson irises stare back.
Nix’s arms are crossed over his chest, and he watches me like I am a puzzle he just can’t understand. Or maybe one he doesn’t want to. My face flames, and I am grateful the glow of the candle hides my embarrassment.
“What happened?” I ask. The words scrape my throat raw and I cough. Which only makes my head hurt worse.
Chol glances into the shadows where Nix reclines. “Your magick… It went haywire.”
A steady throb near my wrists makes me glance down.
Angry red burn marks rest half-assed over the claw wounds. I prod the outer edges of the tears and grimace, noting the shiny quality in the center and the dark grime leftover from the creature.
“When I said stop the bleeding, that wasn’t what I meant,” I murmur.
“And when you revealed you had magick,” Nix points at my arms, “that isn’t what I expected.” His voice is angry, menacing. “That blast destroyed—whatever that was—in seconds. It lit up every square inch of the foyer like standing in the sun. What the Seven Hells was that?”
My heart slams against the walls of my chest. I pull away from Chol and slip to the very end of the cot, trying to put distance between them and myself. “It did the job. That’s all you need to know.”
Nix stalks out of the shadows and grinds to a halt, like he doesn’t trust himself to come closer. “And it could have killed you. It could’ve killed me. Chol…” He stands rigid in the middle of the floor, hands in fists at his sides, like he’s choking on what to say.
But his anger only fuels mine.
“It wouldn’t have hurt anyone,” I say, soaring to my feet. “I can control it.” It’s complete and utter bull and judging by his expression, he knows it.
Nix seethes. “That was not control. That was a blatant disregard for your life and the lives of others.”
I snarl. “Blood magick is powerful. It’s why I wear these.” I hold up my arms and the three inches of metal bracelets gleam above the new wounds. “One of those things had its claws in me. I couldn’t foresee smoke doing that, could you?”
His mouth opens and closes before he clamps his lips into a hard, unyielding line.
What happened… I can’t change it now, but I can get the others to safety before it causes more problems.
“Whatever that was may be back,” I say into the quiet. Nix just watches me. “The embassy is no longer safe.”
He raises a brow at my words.
“Even without the wards being down, I’m in no shape to fight right now. My magick is depleted. And I don’t want a repeat of this.” I wave half-heartedly at my still aching arm and our current whereabouts.
It takes a moment, but some of the tension leaks out of the vault.
Chol eases closer. “Why don’t we see what kind of damage there is, okay?” He peers between us. “Then we can form a plan from there. There is no reason to make rash decisions while everyone is so tired.”
In a way, he’s right.
The house is more sheltered and depending on who remains, we may have enough sentries to stave off another attack. But my unease persists, battering at me. Like we are sitting ducks on an island of tinder…in the middle of a burning lake.
I nod slowly, hesitating. Nix huffs in obvious annoyance but stalks past me and heads down the narrow tunnel back towards the stairs. It takes all the remaining energy in my body to put one foot in front of the other and walk after him. Warm fingers curl over my elbow, and Chol’s cookie scent filters into my nose.
It’s a testament to how tired I am that I don’t push him away.
We trail up the stairs and out into Father’s office.
His lamps are shattered, and wind whips through the now broken windows. Papers and old quills flutter along the floor in the breeze. I sigh. He’s going to be so angry when he gets back.
For more than one reason.
Gods, all I had to do was keep them safe, and not get hurt. That was it. It should have been simple. Now? How the hells am I going to explain what happened? Not to them.
But to Father.
Nix’s boots crunch through the glass, startling me. I glance over as Chol gingerly picks his way through the shards behind him.
My eyes track their movements, and I sigh. There is nothing for it. What is done…is done.
I tiptoe through the debris, careful not to impale my feet, as we slip into the hall.
Pictures hang askew over the paneling, but most of the damage is farther down. Dark splotches of color, like char marks, blacken the wall across from the door in almost human shapes. The Prince’s jaw hangs wide as he takes in the damage. I peer sideways at Nix.
The Hallow’s eyes scour over the marks and keep going. Though his demeanor says he has seen worse, a part of me wants to beg him to tell me it wasn’t me that did it. It’s a childish wish. To have someone tell you your worst fears aren’t real, that the monster under your bed is gone and the one in the closet never existed.
But I know monsters are real. Hells, I protect them.
So what do you do when you are the monster you fear?
Chapter 6
I right the last chair in the foyer and drop into the barely faded cushion with an exhausted sigh. The night is gloomy beyond the open door, and Chol leans against the jamb, arms crossed as he waits for Nix to return from checking the perimeter. The prince scrounged a zip-up sweatshirt from somewhere. With the zipper half down, it leaves his chest and sharp collarbones on full display. A display I am too tired to worry about right now.
“You probably shouldn’t be that close to the dark,” I mutter, voice jumbled and laced with exhaustion. “Something might grab you.”
Chol peers at me over his shoulder, silvery eyes like the illusion of a full moon just beyond the pitch black doorway. “Worried about me, Sayah, when you are practically sleeping on your feet?” The teasing smile makes a vibrant return, illuminating his features.
I frown. “Cut the cuteness, Chol.”
He turns a bit more, and hard tan flesh shines like a beacon between the gaps of navy-blue material. “I’m not doing anything.” He holds out one hand, eyeing his perfectly manicured nails. “Nix said you could see the darkness before it ever got to the door, so you know I’m not using amour. And there is only one sect with the power to see other magick.” He looks at me, one brow raised, challenging me to deny it.
My hands grip the slim armrests, fatigue fading on a wash of adrenaline. “So?”
“I know what you are,” he whispers.
The first ragged crackle of power that zaps from my fingertips is like a spike through my skull. A magickal burn out will happen if I keep pushing it. But there is no way in hell I am letting Chol figure out the rest of my heritage. My life—and his—depends on it.
He glances at my hands before unfolding from the doorway and walking, slowly, closer. “You’re mimir, aren’t you?”
Something in me relaxes and the power along my skin vanishes as fast as it came. I shift a bit in my chair with relief that he hasn’t tied the other side of my magick in too. “Yes. But it’s rare. Even rarer than the offspring of a succubus so far from Asmodai,” I say.
He has the decency to look away.
“Two rarities under one roof?” I quip. “What are the odds?”
His eyes dip. “Better than you know,” h
e grumbles.
“Huh?”
He just shakes his head. “We’re too rare considering our uninvited guest.” He drops into the chair next to me. That same sweet scent pours from his skin, lulling me even more.
“Do you smell like cookies to everyone? Or just me?” It slips out before I can stop it, and I can only blame the fatigue shutting down my brain-to-mouth filter. I flush brighter than a tomato.
His tousled gold and platinum hair sways a bit as he peers at me with vigorous amusement. “Cookies, huh? What kind?”
If possible, my face flames brighter. Pushing from my chair, I grumble under my breath and walk to the open door. “Where the hell is Nix?”
“Here.”
I jump as the shadows at the base of the steps swirl and coalesce into a now familiar shape. Nix takes the stairs two at a time, his boots silent and his breathing even.
“The guards are...” He shakes his head. “There were no survivors,” he says, deep voice rumbling in the night. The supernaturals in the area stop cleaning to look over. “As far as I can decipher, it was like a tidal wave of icy smoke. There one minute, knocked under it the next.” He shrugs. “They were all drained. We were too late for them. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t expect anything else, but it makes my chest tighten anyway.
Chol steps next to me, warm hand gentle on my shoulder. I take the comfort without complaint. “So what now?” he asks.
“I want to pull the fallen in from the tree line. They deserve a warrior’s burial. But there isn’t time. We need to burn them.”
I wince. It’s worse because he is right.
“Some of the others will help if you ask,” I say.
Nix inclines his head in acquiescence.
“Regardless, we need to get word to the consulate,” I say into the silence that follows. “But if we remain, we are in for more trouble. Father designed the wards. Though I can power them, too, my energy is completely gone. I need to recharge to get them up and going again. But even then...” Whatever the dark wave was, it may have devoured all the energy in the area. And I’m not a hundred percent sure I can fuel the entire embassy alone on the tendrils I can get.
