by A. Vers
Even without my amhara, the steady pulses of magick around the room is unbelievable. Everything glows until every shadow seems to retreat under the barrage.
Slowly, so slowly, we push and herd the darkness back out the doors. I start to smile.
Take that you slimy—
A long tentacle of smoke unfurls from above, grabbing Chol around the middle. He cries out as he is lifted off the floor.
I start to run, knowing I won’t get to him in time. “Nix!” I scream.
He turns, his sword arcing to slice into the nearest appendage of smoke. His eyes go wide at the sight of his charge hanging in the air.
The dark arm tightens. Chol screams, his face turning ashen before a loud snap rips through the room. His ribs.
He sags, his head lolling with unconsciousness.
No. Gods, please no.
An unearthly shriek of rage fills the chamber.
Something silver leaps upward and a volley of fiery bolts lands in the feeler around the Prince.
Lady Marlec.
There is a deep howl from somewhere outside, and the limb loosens. Chol drops from twenty feet up, his body limp.
Nix jumps, his sword arm outstretched to catch him.
My lips begin to move, weaving rapidly.
A soft blue cloud of magick closes over them, slowly lowering them to the floor as Marlec and Erem slice and stab at the remaining appendage. It fades in a wisp of smoke, but I barely notice as I race across the damaged foyer to Nix and Chol.
The magick parts like water, and the Hallow supports the prince in his arms. He looks at me, his expression grim. “Healer. We need a healer.”
My insides drop.
“Bring him upstairs.” Father’s voice is abrupt, but as I look up, he is weaving slowly, pulling his magick from around both males.
He saved them.
Why?
Nix looks from Father to me. I give a jerk of my head. “Go.”
He sets off.
“Phoenix.” We turn as Lady Marlec speeds closer, pulling her glamour back in place. She reaches Chol and pushes his hair back from his face. “Give him to me.”
Nix hesitates.
I lay a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. We’re right behind them.” His jaw flexes, but he gingerly passes Chol’s unconscious form to his mother.
Marlec hoists her son like he weighs nothing. Though he is taller than her, and the sight would be amusing any other time, something breaks in me as she sprints off. No matter how wrong she was about wanting to strip his power, Marlec was truly doing it to protect Chol. To save him.
Even if it meant he hated her in the end.
My eyes raise of their own accord, searching for my Father amidst the supernaturals. But he’s already moving down the hall.
I can’t forgive him for what he did. But maybe I understand why he did it.
Shaking free of the pain, I turn to Nix and grab his hand. “Come on,” I say softly. He falls into step beside me and we follow Marlec and Erem deeper into the consulate.
And with every step, I curse the darkness after them all.
Chapter 32
Nix and I sit against the wall outside Chol’s room, waiting as Father and the consulate healers work. Marlec and Erem are in deep conversation several doors down. Their expressions grim. Oddly, the older Hallow reaches and takes Marlec’s much smaller hand in his. She doesn’t pull away.
My stomach dips at the raw look in Marlec’s violet eyes as she peers up at him. He cups her cheek.
The gesture is so tender that I have to look away. But it just means my gaze lands on the closed door across from us.
Chol’s door.
Broken ribs. Not one but three. And internal bleeding. Even with all the healing they have done in the last hour, Father and the healers are still considering moving him to a human hospital.
“If he goes,” Nix mutters, “I’m going with him.”
I nudge him a little. “I know.”
He shifts next to me, his face still in lines of cold, deadly rage. Chol was hurt on his watch. Again. I know where his head is. And it’s no place good. I scoot tighter into his side, and we fall into silence again.
The house is quiet now. It seems our demon follower had been duped. Rorick, the assassin leader and Nix’s father, never needed the demon to report back because there was a tracker on him the moment Rorick stopped him. All he had to do was follow him to the Consulate.
To Chol.
We brought the demon here. Unwittingly, sure. But we had regardless. Though no one seems to blame us, I am doing it enough on my own to make up for it.
Nix rubs his hand over his face. “You should go sleep,” he says, voice grim as his eyes never leave Chol’s door. They haven’t since we sat down.
I look at him. “I’ll sleep when you do.”
He cuts a glance at me. “Stubborn.”
“Pot meet kettle,” I quip, smiling slightly.
“You both should go sleep.”
We look up as Erem and Marlec approach. The Hallow appears haggard. Exhausted. He rakes a hand through his dark hair, and I consider asking when was the last time he slept. And then remember that may be suicidal.
The door opens and Nix and I rise slowly to our feet as Father presses into the hall.
Marlec’s lip trembles. “Well?” she asks.
His face is ashen, and his hazel eyes are almost fever bright. “He is stable. For now.”
“How bad is it?” Nix asks.
Father eyes him, but his gaze skates over me like I’m not there. “The bleeding was not as severe as it could have been. His rib punctured his lung, but we were able to reset the bone and seal any damage.”
I clasp my fingers around Nix’s wrist as the world spins. He turns his arm, seeking my hand with his and squeezing my fingers.
Father never looks at us, but his jaw ripples. “The ribs are bound and should heal with time,” he continues. “However, his system is vastly depleted. I doubt he has fed in days, and with the ritual as well as this battle…his body is showing signs of a burnout.”
The supernatural equivalent of running our batteries dead.
Marlec clasps her hand over her mouth, and Erem wraps an arm around her shoulders, his expression tight. “What can we do?” he asks as tears track the Succubus’ face.
Father sighs. “He needs to rest. As long as he can. You won’t be able to move him anytime soon.”
If possible, Marlec pales more. “But—” She gasps. “We need to leave. This is the second attack on the consulate, and Chol is not—”
“He will die if you move him, Ms. Delancre,” Father interjects, his tone hard. “I’m sorry. I know your worry, but he needs to heal. Completely. If you move him, you risk not only reopening the hole in his lung, but awakening him before his body can recharge. He has to stay here.”
Marlec nods, her arms tight around her waist, like she can hold it all together that way. “Thank you, Mr. Nieddu, for all of your help.”
Nix pulls away, his hands in fists. “Can I see him?”
Father glances at him and then gives a brief nod. “Of course. Just be quiet.”
Nix and Marlec slip into the room. Chol’s mother drops gracefully into the bedside chair, her eyes never leaving her son’s face. The expression on her features is heartbreaking. Nix walks around the bed, his gaze likewise glued to his charge. If I thought the day he came to Midnight he was scary, it is nothing to the emptiness on his face now. Only now I know better.
It’s not emptiness. It’s anger and too many years of hardship.
“Sayah.”
I turn to find Father watching me. Erem slowly eases into Chol’s room, giving us space.
“Sir?” I ask, waiting for another argument.
“The spell on him is solid. Only his succubus heritage remains.” A small weight lifts from me.
“Will it keep whoever is chasing him away?” I ask.
He searches my face, his hazel eyes darker than I have ever see
n them. “As long as both sides stay separate, yes.”
My head bobs. Once Chol heals, he’s free. Free to do whatever he wants to do with his life. My eyes burn and my lips spread into a wobbly smile. “Good.”
Father remains silent for a time. “You fought well.”
I look at him, unsure what to say. “Thank you,” I mutter.
“You are still too raw, to untrained. But you did well.”
I want to sag under the offhanded compliment. But instead, I square my shoulders. “I hope to continue training. To continue learning.”
His mouth mottles, but he inclines his head. “I will put in a word with the Consul Ellmeck. Perhaps…you would benefit from her regiment.”
“The Consul?”
He looks away. “Consulate guards are one of the strongest warriors in New York. You could train with them, and perhaps Velnor. And one day—if you saw fit… You could return to Midnight.”
I stare at him.
“We have too few ambassadors, but we can always use new knowledge,” he adds. “Training with the Consulate would help to add to your repertoire, after all.”
My head swims. I could stay on Earth. Be near Chol. And one day go home if I wanted. He’s offering it all without the anger, albeit a bit more frustration than I would like. But it’s an olive branch, I realize.
A truce.
My lips quiver, but I still them. “I’ll think about it,” I say simply. But inside, my stomach is a mass of hope.
He nods gruffly. “Of course.” He starts to walk off, then stops. “Make sure to get some sleep, Sayah. Earth requires more focus and effort for magick users than you are used to. You will need to stay rested.” He walks off without a backward glance.
“He means well.”
I turn to find Erem leaning against the door, gazing after Father. “A father only ever wants what is best for their children. Even if it hurts them.”
“He has a funny way of showing it sometimes,” I say with a small sigh, “but you may be right.”
Erem grows thoughtful. “I am sure, to you, it seems harsh. But to me, I see the sacrifice he is making. You are his daughter after all. His flesh and blood.” His dark head turns, peering inside. At first I think he is looking at Chol and Marlec. But as Nix moves around the bed, Erem’s gaze follows the young Hallow with a fair amount of respect and…love in his gaze. Do Hallows feel love?
“Sometimes we have to let our children go and be with another before we realize we were wrong,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Before we can ever hope to make it right in their eyes.” There is enough heartbreak in those words, enough pain that my stomach knots.
I gaze from Erem to Nix. And for a brief moment, as Nix looks up and meets Erem’s eyes, a soft roll of answering fire fills the older Hallow’s irises before it is quickly snuffed out. So fast I wonder if I imagined it.
Nix walks towards us. “Sayah? You got a minute?” His tone is brisk.
Startled, I can only blink. “Yeah. Of course.”
He nods, claps Erem on the shoulder, and motions me down the hall to the room we were all in earlier.
Nix shuts the door behind him and leans against it, his eyes closed.
“You okay?” I ask, taking a step closer.
His burning eyes open and fix on me. “I’m going after Rorick.”
I rock back. “What?”
“It’s the easiest way to make sure Chol can heal. That he has enough time to heal. Besides the asshole wants me.” Nix pushes from the panel and begins to pace. “I can find him easy enough. Once I kill him, Chol and I are both free.” He turns to me, his expression almost pleading. Like he needs me to understand.
“Nix…you can’t.”
“I’m a Hallow, Sayah. I’ve killed for less,” he tells me hotly, and I realize he was hoping I would agree. That I would let him go. “Chol is my charge. I can protect him. Once and for all.”
“That’s not—” I stumble over my pulse as it pounds in my throat. “You can’t go alone,” I say, voice harsh.
His eyes flash. “Yes, I can.”
“I’m going too then.”
“You can’t come with me. I need you here.”
My hands land on my hips. “Rorick could’ve recruited more lackeys by now. You would be walking into a trap.”
His jaw ripples. “I know what I’m doing, Sayah. I can get in and out easier on my own. You would just slow me down.”
My lips part, and fire fills my face. I’ve saved his ass and Chol’s how many times? But now I’m a damn liability?
He looks away. “Just stay with Chol. Please.” He brushes past me and goes for the door.
I lunge and close my hand over the strong swell of his arm. “Nix—”
His gaze goes from my hold on him to my face, and gone is the friendly Hallow I have grown accustomed to. “I don’t want to hurt you, Sayah,” he whispers, voice lethal and colder than I have ever heard it. “But you won’t stop me. Not now.” His arm heats under my grasp, scalding me.
I let go fast. My palm is bright red and hot. But not an ounce of fire left his body.
How—
“Stay with Chol,” he snaps, his face hardened as he opens the door and walks out.
A part of me believes he is right. That I should stay and protect Chol. But Chol has my parents, Erem, Marlec…the Consulate.
Nix has no one. No one to help him. No one that even knows where he is going.
I hesitate for all of two seconds and carefully slip out the door after him.
Chapter 33
The night is cool and the streets are deserted as I exit the Consulate. Or so they appear. I pull my amhara up behind my eyes, wincing as it makes my temples throb.
I scan the sidewalks up and down the street.
A midnight and crimson shimmer fades around the far corner. I swear and leap down the steps. My ankle rolls a little as I land, ungracefully, before taking off after the Hallow.
The man moves like a ninja, using every patch of shadow and darkness along the way. I lose him twice, only finding him again thanks to my mimir abilities.
Nix leads me across town, and at first I wonder if he even has a heading or if he is scouring the city one back alley at a time. But before long he slows in the warehouse prominent section of New York, now miles from the Consulate.
The buildings here are darker, less well kept, and riddled in mildew and dark lines. I ease down the side of one brick structure and peer around the corner. The network of crates and bits of trash is hard to see past. Even with my other sight.
Cursing silently, I take the corner hunched over, scuttling fast to clear the first stack of old bits of lumber, and then the next. At the edge of the piles, I scan the immediate area, but can’t find Nix’s signature magick anywhere.
But a massive roiling blob of black emanates from the abandoned warehouse across the way and I know I’m in the right place. It pulses with hints of blue and red, the power almost alive. Though seemingly without a body to contain it. It’s so like the energy from the convergence in Fent. So similar, in fact, that the closer I get, the soft buzzing begins to fill my ears again. Hells, the only way to make it creepier is if there were dark storm clouds and howling wind. I shudder.
I tiptoe forward, careful to use every stack of crates as cover. My eyes rake the front of the building, noting the broken windows and single entry door. Could Nix be inside already?
My stomach turns at the very notion of him facing that power alone.
A great boom echoes out through the broken windows, the harsh blast sends me reeling. I crash into the crates.
Lifting my head, I scan the warehouse fast.
My heart hammers and metal flavors my tongue as black clouds and midnight flames lick at the brick from those broken windows. The dark mass in my amhara rolls and writhes with menace. Even more than it did before. Like it’s growing.
Swearing in earnest, I clamor to my feet--with a harsh incantus to help hide me--and race toward the engulfed buil
ding. Please don’t let the Hallow have done something stupid.
Like going in alone?
Growling, I double my efforts and sped into the dark.
Because if Rorick hasn’t killed him yet…I just may have to.
***
The inside of the warehouse is stuffy and impossible to see into. Smoke billows everywhere, and the heat alone is enough to make me draw up short. But I carefully drop down through the open window and land in a low crouch.
Looking around to make sure the way is clear, I slip deeper into several toppled shelves and teetering piles of discarded pallets. My eyes scan every shadow.
Where the hells is Nix?
Low voices reach my ears. I cock my head, trying to discern a direction. Tall, broad shadows move along the wall before stopping just on the other side of the haze.
One goes still, his head tilting. “Do you smell that?”
A shifter? Of all the rotten luck—
His companion stops walking. “All I smell is smoke. That Hallow kid is damn near burning the bloody building down.”
My heart skips before I can stop it. The shifter turns his head toward me, a soft sheen of vibrant orange light illuminating his gaze through the smog.
I fight off a groan.
An alpha. Of course he is an alpha.
“What?” his companion asks.
The shifter raises a hand. I start to shift back into the shadows, slipping between the stacks. He continues to advance, his gaze traveling over everything as his nostrils work incessantly. “Someone else is here,” he says.
My spine hits something sharp and I stop. I feel behind me and my fingers brush rough wood. Trapped.
I drop my hands to my hips, fingers closing over the handle of my blades as their frames come into view.
“No one else is here, you idiot,” one of them snaps. “You’re probably smelling the Hallow kid.”
“No. This is something sweeter. Softer.” The shifter inhales again and his too bright eyes land on me. I stiffen. “A girl,” he croons from that ghoulish mouth.
His companion shifts over. “Shit.”
We stare at each other.
The shifter bends a bit. “Come on, girly. Come on out. We won’t hurt you.”
