“You were my friend.”
He eyed her coldly. “Is that why you trusted me? Told me the truth about who you are? Confided in me? Oh, wait, you didn’t. Because we were never friends.”
Victoria felt him getting agitated and she knew that she didn’t have much time. It was now or never—the magic felt strong enough. “Excindo!” she shouted, pushing every bit of force she had into the spell.
Pan went flying backward and crashed into a nearby tree as the cell of roots exploded outward. Victoria fell to her knees, gasping for breath. The spell left her weak and disoriented as the magic fought the stringy constraints of Pan’s toxin. Black spots flared in her eyes and she was momentarily blinded. In her hazy vision, she saw Pan struggling to his knees. The spell should have left him battered, but it hadn’t been at full potency. She dug her fingers into the dirt and forced herself to stand as he crawled toward her, fumbling at the pouch at his waist.
Focus, she hissed at herself. If he threw any of that powder her way, she would be at his mercy. She would lose any advantage she had.
Her blood blistered her skin, desperate for release. Victoria bit her lip, freeing the raw power coursing through her. It felt sluggish, but she managed to stand on shaky legs. “Walk away, Pan,” she warned. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You can try.”
He teleported and Victoria did the same. The magic was draining her more than she expected. With a strangled breath, she tried to tap into the resources of the amulet that usually rested at her breast. Pan’s mocking laugh echoed through the trees.
“Looking for this?” He appeared at the end of the small glade, her locket in hand. “Oh, trust me, I know about witches and their trinkets. I figured it was valuable.”
“You will regret this.”
“I don’t think so.”
A vine darted out from a nearby branch to loop around her wrist. A root snaked out from beneath her feet, making her lose her balance and her breath. The spell that had been on the tip of her tongue disappeared as her head hit the unforgiving ground and the breath whooshed out of her. Stars spun in her vision.
“Confuto,” she gasped, trying to stop Pan mid-motion. But either she wasn’t thinking clearly or the fall had knocked her semi-unconscious because Pan kept coming toward her.
“Nice try, but that reminds me,” Pan said in gleeful triumph, looking down at her as he straddled her fallen body. “Time for another dose.” He hauled a breath into his lungs and blew into his cupped hands toward her. A sprinkling of gold powder shimmered into her face. She tried not to breathe, but it was no use. The dust melted into her skin and seeped into her nasal passages. Within seconds, she felt as if her entire body was floating on a stream of sunshine.
“You’re my best friend, Pan,” she told him giddily.
“I know. Time to go back to sleep. We have work to do.”
She fell back onto the soft pillows of the bed, her eyes rolling in her head. She felt so calm, so at peace. Something tugged at her consciousness—a hot, insistent sensation along the edges that wouldn’t calm, reminding her that her feeling of bliss wasn’t real. But the truth was, she didn’t want to know. She was safe. She was happy.
She was home.
SEVENTEEN
Demon Rogue
Lucian held his brother by the scruff of his neck and dropped him to the floor in front of his audience. “Delivered as promised,” he said to Freyja. The warlock stared at the vampire’s twitching body in surprise.
“How did you capture him?”
Lucian laughed. “You see, my brother likes to believe in my repentance and redemptive qualities. I have yet to convince him that I am a lost cause.”
“You would give up your own flesh and blood?” Roan asked, his golden eyes flaring.
“My only loyalty is to myself.”
Roan opened his mouth to continue, but Freyja silenced him with a glare. “Enough. You have fulfilled your part of the bargain. Why have you brought the one waiting outside?”
Lucian knew she was referring to Lena. “She’s with me.”
“Would you sacrifice her, too?” Roan drawled, ignoring his leader’s warning.
“If I had to, yes.”
“Does she know that?”
Lucian met the warlock’s stare. “Of course.”
“Secure the prisoner,” Freyja said, addressing her followers in the underground hall. “Make sure his body is bound by silver at all times. It is the only thing that will keep him restrained. It is time to bring this witch to us.” She eyed Lucian. “Lord Devereux and his companion are our allies. An attack on either of them will be considered an attack against me. Now, make the preparations to put the strategy in place and take up your positions. Do what you swore upon your oath as a warlock to do.”
Lucian frowned as almost half of the company melted from the massive hall. He’d never heard of any oath, but then again, he wasn’t too familiar with the inner workings of warlock culture. He knew that Freyja and the warlocks were organized, but they seemed focused, as if this was a coup they’d been planning for decades. He expected it was—they’d always existed in the shadows of the witches and the vampires. He, himself, never understood why the witches mistrusted them so much. They, too, were magic users, although they veered toward the full spectrum of magic, including the practice of dark magic. Unlike witches, they used their power to summon demons and other shadow creatures that were bound to the dead. But other than that, Lucian did not know much about them.
Freyja dismissed the rest of the warlocks, a silent communication passing between her and Roan before he hauled Christian out of sight to another room. Lucian approached her. “I am curious about something. Why haven’t you aligned with the witches? It seems natural that you would, given you have a common enemy.”
Her smile was thin. “We align with no one.”
“You aligned with me.”
“A necessary evil.”
Lucian frowned at her cryptic choice of words. “With your combined powers, you could have taken the vampires out centuries ago. Why now? What do you hope to accomplish with Le Sang Noir? It cannot be controlled by anyone but its wielder and, trust me, I’ve tried to coerce the witch before.”
She eyed him as if considering how much to reveal of what she had planned. Freyja cleared her throat, a host of emotions playing across her face. “We are not attempting to coerce her. The curse must be destroyed.”
“You’re planning to destroy all the witch’s power?”
She nodded. “Power that great is corrosive. It is an abnormality that will twist even the purest of hearts, and it cannot be suffered to exist with the threat it poses to all existence.”
Lucian’s brows snapped together in disbelief. “You would throw it all away?”
“We are not throwing it away, Lord Devereux,” she said in a cold voice. “We are sending it back to where it belongs, where it cannot be of harm.”
“And where exactly is that?”
“The demon dimension,” she said. “It is where most dark magic is born.”
“And you’d know about that, wouldn’t you?” he said sourly. Lucian felt all his carefully orchestrated plans start to crumble. The warlocks had never intended to use the witch. They wanted to make sure that no one could abuse her power. His eyes narrowed at the woman standing in front of him—something didn’t add up. It didn’t make sense that they would go through all this trouble. It went against everything he’d ever known about warlocks. “You mentioned an oath before. What were you talking about?”
“Lord Devereux, I think it is time for you to leave.”
But as he turned to depart, an explosion rocked the walls of the chamber, sending a shower of rocks and stones descending upon them. Roan rushed in with two other guards at his side as another shockwave hit the building. Freyja took off at a run, climbing the stairs to the upper part of the abandoned church. Lucian followed on swift feet, his eyes finding Lena,
who was crouched behind a marble pillar. He made his way over to her, dodging falling debris.
“We’re under attack!” someone shouted before a blast of angry red light tore through him.
“From who?” Roan shouted back. “Vampires?”
“That was magic, you idiot,” Lucian snarled as he leapt to the destroyed façade of the church. The pale light of the moon filtered down to the lone figure waiting in the courtyard. “Vampires don’t command bursts of light at our fingertips.”
Freyja joined him. Lucian could feel her entire body tense as she stared at their assailant. “It’s a demon.”
Roan paled. “That is impossible. Who summoned it? Is it linked to any of us?”
“Not that I can tell.”
“A rogue?”
She shook her head, closing her eyes to take measure of the demon. “It’s too powerful to be a rogue. That is something else. I don’t see a portal to the demon dimension, which makes no sense.”
“What does that mean?” Lucian asked.
“It means that this demon lives here.”
“Impossible. Demons can’t exist on this plane without being summoned by someone like you.”
Freyja stared at him and he was surprised to see a hint of fear on her face. “Stronger ones can. The question is why.”
“So what drew it here?” Roan asked as another burst of fiery orange light consumed two warlocks in its path. His furious, accusing gaze fell on Lucian.
“Don’t look at me,” he snarled. “I’m not in the business of consorting with demons.”
“It must have followed you here,” Roan tossed back.
Lucian glowered at him. “I seem to recall you conjuring a demon not a week ago, so if it followed anyone, I’d say it would be you.”
“Enough,” Freyja growled.
The beast shifted into view then. It was roughly the size of a lion with glowing red eyes. An acid green and sickly yellow haze surrounded it on all sides. It seemed to be tied to some kind of host—a smaller creature that wasn’t human, but Lucian couldn’t quite determine what it was. The reek of sulfur filled the air as it drew its bulk closer to the bodies strewn across the courtyard.
“What’s it doing?” Lena said, her eyes centered on the demon.
The beast heaved its weight on top of a fallen warlock and Lucian shuddered. “It’s feeding on them.”
Sure enough, when the creature moved on to another body, the only thing that remained in its wake was a lifeless hollow husk. At Freyja’s signal, the warlocks consolidated their attack, but their spells barely deterred the demon. It seemed impervious to their assault, only focused on consuming as many souls as it could. Lucian couldn’t help noticing that each life that the demon absorbed seemed to make it bigger and stronger.
“Nothing’s working,” Roan shouted as he flung a fire spell toward it. “It’s not even attacking. It’s feeding. What does it want?”
“One way to find out.” Freyja’s eyes glowed white as she muttered a spell, pushing a trail of glowing iridescence toward the creature. The tendril curled around the monster. The demon froze and locked eyes with Freyja as their conscious energies joined. Bolts of energy exploded around them as the warlocks pressed their attack, but it was as if a bubble encased the two of them. Time stood still as they faced each other. Freyja was strong, but it was obvious to Lucian that she was no match for the demon. Her hands shook as she tried to retain control of herself. But the demon wouldn’t let her go. A whimper escaped her lips as she dropped to her knees, her cheeks sunken and gaunt.
“Freyja!” Roan shouted, falling to her side. But there was nothing he could do while the demon had hold of her. “It’s killing her.”
Lena shouted and shot forward, distracting it for a moment before it slammed her back into the far wall of the church. She vaulted to her feet and attacked it again, dodging its counter attacks with immortal speed. Lucian hefted a fallen piece of concrete and threw it at the demon. It didn’t do much damage, but it was enough to release whatever demonic grip it had on Freyja. She collapsed into Roan’s arms, breathing heavily.
Without warning, the demon faded and disappeared.
“Is she alive?” Lucian asked as Lena reappeared at his side, bloody but no worse for wear. Roan nodded his silent thanks.
“What the hell was that?” Lena asked.
Freyja sighed and rocked back onto her heels. Her face seemed haggard and drawn as if she’d been sapped of life. Lucian guessed that the interaction with the demon had drained her more than she expected. Her voice was weak. “That, Lord Devereux, was a very old demon. Ancient, if my assumption is right.”
“What’s it doing here then? Did you find out anything when you linked to it? Did someone summon it and send it after you?”
She frowned. “No. It seemed confused or lost, as if it didn’t know what it was. It was powerful and getting stronger by the minute.”
“So you are saying that it is from here?”
“Seems that way.”
He stared at the bodies littering the courtyard and frowned. They looked eerily familiar. Something occurred to him. “Have any of your people been attacked in the last few months?” he asked. “Found drained of blood?”
“Yes.” Freyja stared at him, understanding dawning in her eyes as they flicked to the nearest shell. “But we blamed the vampires. My people have always been at odds with yours.”
Lena cleared her throat and nodded. “The Witch Clans found the same. They thought it was us, too.”
“The Council also found vampire bodies turned to ash,” Lucian mused. “But that is what will happen when we are drained of life, unlike your people. The vampires blamed the Clans.”
Foamy blood flecked Freyja’s lips. “You need to warn your people,” she coughed. “That demon will only grow in power the more immortal souls it consumes.”
Lucian and Lena exchanged a glance. “What about my brother and the witch?”
“That will have to wait. If this thing gets any stronger, we will have a lot more on our hands to worry about.”
†††
Christian felt the sluggish movement of the liquid silver creeping through his veins like thick molasses. His eyes focused on the room he was held in. It was a small, stone cellar and his wrists were shackled to the wall. Clear tubing ran from a tank on one side and fed into a tube attached to his forearm. He could see the silvery fluid draining into him and dissolving all of his strength with it. It hurt to think, but when he did, he only had one thought.
Victoria.
She was in danger. He wasn’t sure he had understood all her words—they had been incoherent—he only knew that she had cried out for help. His help. And he couldn’t move. He took a deep breath, feeling the heavy casing of the silver. It made his limbs feel heavy and numb. The good thing was that he was awake—this much silver would knock another vampire completely unconscious.
He vaguely recalled two guards being in the room with him, but there’d been some commotion and they had run out. He’d felt the explosion and no one else had come back in. Christian pulled at the shackles, hearing them clang dully against the wall. There was no give in the rings, but he pulled harder, gritting his teeth until the metal tore into his flesh. It wouldn’t budge. He sawed his hands back and forth, grimacing as bits of the silver burned into his wrists, but the pain only made his goal clearer.
After a few minutes, his skin had been pulled raw and then healed several times over, but the chains held fast. They’d obviously been designed to contain something far stronger than him. Frustrated, he growled out loud and yanked with brute force a few times for good measure. Christian focused himself and centered on the feeling of silver in his body. He concentrated on clearing his body of the metal, pushing it back toward the duct that fed into his arm. To his surprise, he saw the silver pooling like wet toothpaste around the outside of the tube. It was working. And he was getting stronger.
Once his head w
as clear, Christian drew a deep breath into his lungs and pulled at his restraints until it felt like his arms would rip out of their sockets. But he felt the stonework holding the chains in place give way. The slumbering influence of his Reii maker rippled through him, giving him the strength of a hundred vampires. With a roar, he tore loose of his bonds and fell to the ground, grunting. Rocking onto his heels, he glanced at the shattered iron shackles and the now healed wound in his forearm. Remnants of dried silver coated his skin and he felt nothing. Christian flexed, feeling new power coursing through him. He was stronger than he’d ever been, that he was sure of.
There was one guard at the door. Ripping the metal graft out of his arm, he felt his fangs elongate as hunger overtook him. The warlock didn’t stand a chance as Christian bit into his neck, savoring the taste of the magic-infused blood. It wasn’t near enough. By the time he reached the outer hall where Lucian had brought him, he’d left a trail of unconscious bodies in his wake. It took him a few minutes to make sense of the destruction at street level. But he was only looking for one person—the bastard who had brought him here.
His brother.
He didn’t have to see him to feel him, and he was a blur as he tackled his twin to the ground. He swatted Lena away as she leapt toward him, his new strength formidable, not caring that she folded up into a motionless heap. She was a vampire—she would heal. Eventually.
He slammed Lucian up against the wall, his forearm braced across his brother’s neck, two hundred pounds of pure rage barreling into Lucian and holding him prisoner. He could see his brother’s shock at his escape and the silver flecks resting on his arm.
“Aren’t you full of surprises,” Lucian drawled in a casual tone as if they were engaged in civil conversation. “When did you become immune to silver?”
Christian’s rage flared. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”
“Go ahead,” Lucian taunted. “I can see it in your eyes how badly you want the pleasure of ripping me apart, but you won’t do it. You can’t do it. You can never do it.”
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