by Kat Ross
The apartment door flew open. Kasia smashed a coffee pot over Malach’s head. He reeled back, blood trickling down his forehead. Alexei’s ears popped as the pressure eased. He dove for the manacles, but Malach saw him coming and sprinted up the stairs.
“Are you mad? Get inside,” Alexei snapped. Kasia’s eyes narrowed. “And . . . thank you.”
She arched a brow. “You’re welcome.”
Alexei hit the exit to the roof at a dead run. He kicked open the heavy metal fire door just as it swung shut. The roof was fifty paces across and covered in silicon panels that stored kinetic energy from the rain. Malach was nearing the opposite edge, head down, arms and legs pumping in an all-out sprint. Alexei pelted forward, sliding on the wet panels. He shook rain from his eyes, searching for a Raven emblem. He couldn’t let the mage get away. It had taken three years to find him and Alexei knew he would never get another chance.
Malach’s knees bent, poised to leap across the gap to the next building. Alexei swore and prepared to follow. Then his gaze fell on one of the cornerstones. The circle was old and weathered, barely visible. He dove forward and slammed a hand down. The symbol ignited, lines of blue fire racing to the next corner, and the next, sealing the rooftop in a shimmering square.
A magetrap. The city was full of them. They were rarely used anymore, but Kasia’s building was old enough to have one. Within its boundaries, the ley ceased to exist.
Malach slowly turned. His voice could have frozen stone. “I’ll say this once. Let me out.”
It was the nihilim’s only weakness, the inability to make or break Wards, nor to pass one once it ignited.
Blood pounded in Alexei’s ears. “Do you remember me?”
“I don’t need the ley to tear you apart, laqueus. But you already know that. You’ve been down in the mud.” His face hardened. “We’re not easy meat, even in the Void.”
So Malach did remember.
“I want you to fix what you did,” Alexei said.
“Fix it?” Malach laughed. “That bomb has already dropped. There’s nothing left but a hole in the ground.”
They circled each other warily.
“Please, just listen. I’ll bring him to you. If you make him better, I’ll take your Mark in his place. On my honor, Nightmage. It’s a fair offer.”
“So you’d betray your faith for me?” Malach frowned. “Maybe I chose the wrong brother. You have potential.”
A car horn blared in the street. Distant music drifted up from the cafés. Alexei barely heard it over the swift drumbeat of his own heart. “You’re wasting your time,” he said evenly. “Nihilim mind games don’t work on me.”
“No?” His lip curled. “Then you hold no ill will? Not even the tiniest thirst for vengeance?”
A scream echoed in his memory. Like his brother’s soul was being torn from his body.
“I feel nothing for you.”
“And I think you’re lying.” Malach smiled. “Don’t forget, I know you, laqueus. I know the things you’ve done. You can spout doctrine at me all night, but you’re an animal like the rest of us. Marks don’t change that fact. They just spare you the pain of facing the truth.”
Alexei tamped down a stab of anger. “What difference does it make?”
The mage’s smile broadened. “All the difference in the world.”
Alexei watched his plan crumble to dust. Nihilim couldn’t be reasoned with. Their very nature was incomprehensible. He realized that Malach would never accept Alexei’s terms. Only his own.
“What is it you want?” he asked, expecting him to demand Massot’s message.
Malach loosened his tie, the manacles dangling from his wrist like a taunt. “To admit that you loathe me. That you’d like nothing better than to spill my blood and the only thing stopping you is the knowledge that your brother would die if you killed me.”
“He’ll die anyway.”
“Probably. But the sickness is a worse way to go.”
“And if I do, you’ll help him?” Alexei asked warily.
“I’ll consider it.”
“Not good enough. I need your oath.”
“All right. But I want a full confession.” He tipped his face up to the sky. “I want you to tell me about every murder you’ve committed in the name of civilizing the human race. I want to hear about the interrogations. The scorched earth campaigns. Curia law is suspended in the Black Zone, isn’t it? No rules, no limits.” His eyes gleamed in the semidark. “I want to know how you felt when your damaged mind tried to repress it all. I want to know what it cost you.”
Alexei drew an unsteady breath. “After you fix my brother.”
“No, the confession comes first, laqueus. Let’s start with your first tour of duty in Bal Agnar. Did you know there was once a treaty called the Ostravia Conventions? It was a long time ago, before the second Dark Age, but I’ll wager you’ve violated them all.”
Alexei stared. He knew every treaty the Curia was party to, but he’d never even heard of a place called Ostravia. “What are you talking about?”
“A list of war crimes. You might have missed one or two purely by accident. Let’s find out.”
“And what about you?” Alexei laughed in disbelief. “Your kind is a thousand times worse. Are you actually claiming innocence?”
“Not at all. But I don’t deny my atrocities.” Malach studied the shimmering cage. “Traps cut both ways. You can’t touch the ley either, which means your Marks won’t make all that bad blood go away. In fact, judging by your expression, I’d say it’s bubbling up right now.” Malach waited expectantly. “Well, carry on.”
Alexei’s fists clenched. “You’re sick.”
“No, you are. Wouldn’t you like to unburden yourself? You’ll feel better afterward. Then I’ll tell you what it feels like to turn a Mark. To unchain the beast inside—”
Alexei launched himself at Malach. His fist connected with the mage’s jaw, knocking him back. Malach grinned through bloody teeth. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.” He braced his feet. “Come on, laqueus. Just you and me. Like the old days.”
Alexei swung. Malach dodged the blow and landed a jab to the ribs. Alexei grabbed him in a bear hug. They tumbled to the ground, rolling across the rain-slick panels.
Once the nihilim had been soft. Reliant on the ley to defend themselves. But their descendants who came of age in the Black Zone weren’t soft at all—not the ones who’d survived. The mage was all hard muscle and lightning reflexes. They grunted and swore, each straining for the upper hand. Alexei headbutted him, then delivered a flurry of vicious blows while Malach shielded his face with his arms. A tiny voice shouted at him to lock the second manacle in place, but he couldn’t stop. He wanted to beat Malach to a red pulp first.
All that bad blood.
Alexei grabbed the mage’s hair, lifting his head up. “You want a confession?” he spat. “Here it is. I do want you dead. You and all your kind. You’re parasites. You’re a fucking disease.”
Malach kneed him in the balls, hooked a leg under his ankle, and flipped him facedown into a puddle. Alexei sucked in a mouthful of water. A hand shoved him deeper.
“Here’s mine, priest,” Malach hissed in his ear. “I didn’t want to Turn your brother that day. I wanted to kill him. Call it a favor for an enemy.”
Black spots burst before Alexei’s eyes. He bucked and writhed, but Malach sat astride his back and couldn’t be dislodged. He tried to yell. All that came out was a burst of bubbles. Mist gnawed at the edges of his vision.
“Stop!”
A woman’s voice. Alexei’s lifted his head and drew a ragged breath.
“Natalya Anderle?” Malach didn’t even sound winded.
“Please don’t kill him. I’ll give you what you want.”
Fingers gripped Alexei’s skull. His head lifted from the puddle, then slammed down again. Fireworks burst before his eyes, but the crushing weight disappeared. Alexei rolled to one side, dizzy and gasping.
&n
bsp; “Where,” Malach demanded, “is it?”
“Leave her alone,” Alexei croaked. “She doesn’t know anything.”
Black shoes paused in front of his face.
“I wasn’t talking to you, laqueus,” Malach said.
The second time his head slammed against the roof, Alexei slid into darkness.
Chapter Seventeen
Kasia backed away from the Nightmage.
He didn’t look anything like she’d expected. Mages in the novels she’d devoured as a teenager always wore black cloaks. They had long, flowing hair and cruel mouths. Being both repellent and strangely attractive, the mages did quite a bit of ravishing before a knight came along and rescued the damsel just as she was about to be Nightmarked. Sometimes the heroic knight was a woman and the victim a man, but the mages were always vampire knockoffs.
This one looked like the clerk at the bank where Kasia cashed her checks. He wore a nondescript tan raincoat, which had fallen open to reveal a nondescript pewter gray suit and tie. His hair was cut short. Blood stained the collar of his shirt, but the rain had washed it from his face.
Which was set in hard lines that conveyed a distinct impression of impatience.
“You’re not her,” he said. “Where is Natalya Anderle?”
Kasia looked past him to where the priest lay in a puddle. She couldn’t tell if he was alive. The sound his head made when it struck the tiles. . . .
The mage strode forward. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know! She went out with friends. She didn’t tell me where—”
Malach closed the gap in three swift steps, lifting her up with one gloved hand. Kasia struggled wildly, fingers prying at his iron grip. A manacle engraved with a Raven dangled from his wrist, but it didn’t seem to be much of a deterrent. She landed a solid kick to his kneecap. He didn’t even blink.
“You have five seconds before I snap your neck. Where is she?”
From the corner of her eye, Kasia saw lines of blue light enclosing the rooftop. It was eerily beautiful. Ley? Or just a lack of oxygen to her brain?
Malach’s grip tightened. How cold his eyes were. He would kill her without a shred of remorse. Blood throbbed in her temples. The light faded and suddenly the mage let go. She stumbled back, rubbing her throat.
“There go the Wards,” he said briskly, tugging the glove off. The tip of a sword or long dagger Marked the back of his hand, the point ending at the knuckle of his ring finger. Dense runes covered the blade, which vanished up into his sleeve.
Kasia retreated to the waist-high wall enclosing the roof. Malach followed, implacable. Rain slicked his dark hair to his forehead.
“I don’t know where Natalya went. We’re just flatmates.” She licked her lips. “It’s impossible to afford even a studio on one’s own anymore. But you can search her room, I’ll show it to you—”
He took her wrist. She had fine bones, and his hand folded around them almost gently. She hadn’t noticed his eyes before, but now they locked with hers. Green, shot with brown. Like mine.
“Trust me,” he said. “This is easier.”
Silence poured in, and then she heard the faint barking of dogs below. The mage glanced over the edge.
“What did the letter say?” he demanded. “I know you read it. Tell me!”
Kasia yanked her wrist free. She felt disoriented, like she’d walked into the middle of a heated argument over a subject she knew nothing about and now people were demanding her opinion. Malach reached for her again and Kasia slapped his face. He rocked back, comically surprised.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed.
The frenzied barking grew louder. With a curse, he sprinted across the rooftop, leaping up to the wall and across the gap to the next building. She saw him skid, regain his footing, and then the darkness swallowed him whole.
“Saints,” she muttered. “What a bastard!”
Kasia hurried over to the priest and knelt down. Blood matted his hair. His eyes were closed.
“Fra Bryce?” she whispered.
She pressed a finger to the juncture between neck and jaw, steering clear of the Raven Mark. No pulse. She bit her lip, then tugged the glove off and tried again. She was unaccustomed to touching people with her bare hands, and certainly not unconscious priests. His beard felt rough, but the skin was silky. And warm, which must be a good sign . . . .
Blue eyes flew open. Kasia snatched her hand back. She hastily pulled the glove back on. “I wasn’t sure if you were alive.”
“Malach?” he rasped.
“Gone.”
A blistering look. “Did he touch you?”
“What?” She examined his forehead. The cut was shallow, but scalp wounds tended to bleed profusely.
“Did he touch you with his gloves off?”
The quiet urgency made her pulse quicken. “Yes, but only for a moment.”
Alexei sat with a low groan. “Are you hurt?”
“Not as badly as you,” she replied evenly.
“What happened?”
“He said something about the Wards failing, and I heard dogs—”
“Dogs?” Alexei’s gaze sharpened. “Or Markhounds?”
“I don’t know. I just heard barking and then he left.” She shivered. The rain fell in a steady downpour. Was there something else? No, that was all. “Listen, your head is bleeding. You need a doctor.”
He touched his forehead, regarding the blood on his hand with detachment. “That’s what everyone says.”
“Maybe you should listen. Can you stand up?”
“I have to,” he muttered. “They can’t find me here.”
“Let me help.” She wrapped an arm around his waist and levered him to his feet, taking most of the weight.
He took a breath and winced. “I think I cracked a rib.”
“What can I do?”
“Nothing.” He limped for the door. “It’ll heal on its own.”
She scowled at his back. “Where are you going?”
“The Institute.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I have to get Mikhail out of there.”
“Will they let you take him?”
“They don’t have a say in it.”
“Fra Bryce,” she said in a level tone. “You can hardly walk.”
“I’ll manage.” Alexei swayed on his feet. He braced a hand against the door leading down. “Come with me. You can’t stay here.”
“I have to find Natalya,” Kasia said stubbornly. “She’s in danger.”
Alexei went still, his gaze turning inward. “Why did Malach address you as Domina Anderle?”
Kasia shook her head. “I’ve no idea.”
“I haven’t filed my report yet. Who else knew about the liaison?”
“Cardinal Falke, of course. He arranged it. And Tessaria Foy, but I only told her about it tonight. Saints, could Malach have gotten to her?”
“It’s possible. But why would he come after you if he already had what he wanted?” Alexei’s brow notched. “If Malach touched you, there’s a good chance he pried into your mind. You wouldn’t even remember it.”
Kasia stared into the rainy darkness. A fragment swam to the surface. Malach’s face, intent and frustrated.
What did the letter say? I know you read it. Tell me!
“Fog it,” she muttered. “I think he did. Bastard. But he didn’t get everything.”
“Then he’ll be back.” Alexei gazed at her earnestly. “Please, let me protect you. After we get Mikhail, I’ll hide you in my chamber. No one needs to know.”
Kasia hoarded her secrets like a miser with gold. The thought of Malach rifling through her head left her feeling soiled and furious. Now the priest wanted to take her to the last place on earth where she felt safe.
And the only place Malach couldn’t set foot.
“What about Tessaria?” she hedged. “And Natalya?”
“We’ll find them. Spassov will help. He’s a good man, he won’t ask questions.” Alexei’s voice was gen
tle, coaxing, like she was a half-tame cat. “Do you trust me?”
An hour ago, the answer would have been an emphatic no, but circumstances had changed. In some way she didn’t yet understand, their fates were entwined. And frankly, he needed her help even more than she needed his.
“I did leave my umbrella in your car,” she said with a bleak smile. “So I’ll go—but only if you let me drive.”
An answering smile tugged at his mouth. It was slow and shy and made her want to kiss him all over again. “Fair enough, Domina Novak.”
Bryce opened the door. A pack of Markhounds stood on the landing. Three growled low in their throats. The fourth, a brute even larger than the rest, snapped viciously at the other dogs, moving to stand between Alexei and the rest of the pack. They whimpered in submission.
“Sileo,” Alexei snapped, his hand dropping to caress the massive head of the leader. The dogs instantly quieted.
A dozen priests poured from the stairwell and fanned out across the roof. At a nod from Alexei, the Markhounds trotted to their heels, sniffing the perimeter. Kasia pressed into the shadows. Malach must have sensed them coming. It’s why he let her go.
One of the priests approached. A Golden Bough was embroidered on the right breast of his cassock. General Directorate. Kasia watched warily, still fighting the urge to run.
“The mage escaped,” Alexei said, “but he can’t have gone far. With the hounds, you should have no trouble tracking him, brother.”
“It is not his trail we followed,” the priest replied harshly. He nodded at someone behind Kasia. A hand seized her arm.
“Let go of me.” Kasia struggled to free herself. The second priest held her fast, his bearded face impassive.
“She’s done nothing, Fra Talgatov,” Alexei said hotly.
“Cardinal Falke will be the judge of that.”
Bryce was drenched and bleeding, but his voice rang with confident authority. “Do you have a warrant? If so, I’d like to see it. If not, you have no right to detain her. The civil code requires a detailed explanation of the charges, as well as any supporting evidence. If you violate that mandate, I can promise you that a lawsuit will be filed on Domina Novak’s behalf for a sum of compensatory and punitive damages that would make your eyes water.”
