Page 43 of Depths of Desire (The Emerald Dagger Mafia #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

T he stone beneath my back is ice. Cold, ancient, soaked in old blood and something worse—something that vibrates with every beat of the chant echoing through the sanctuary.

My wrists are bound with a cord that burns with magick, not fire.

It seeps into my skin, dulling my strength, anchoring me in place.

I can smell the ritual. Burnt herbs. Charred bone. Copper and incense and the faint, bitter sting of shadow magick. Every breath tastes like the edge of death.

My mother—Nerezza—stands at the head of the altar, her robe glinting with silver runes.

Her red hair is wild, sweat-dampened at the temples.

One arm hangs limp. The other lifts in rhythm with her voice, which slices knife-sharp through the silence.

Ancient words, fast and sharp, each syllable summoning more power.

The room pulses with energy. Magick thickens the air like fog.

My body is burning from the inside, like my blood is being rewritten.

I can feel her pulling on me—at the bond we share, at the spells she cast when I was born.

I’m not just her son. I’m her anchor. Her key.

Her final piece. She’s going to steal everything I am to become something more.

I can’t let that happen, and yet I can’t seem to move.

The candles flare. The obsidian bowl at my feet hums with dark light. The skull stares back at me. The mirror—the one framed in bone—reflects nothing but my chest rising and falling.

My thoughts turn to Luna, and I cry out to her in my mind.

I am so sorry I wasn’t there for her in the chamber.

I regret that bitterly. A wave of sadness engulfs me as I realize the likelihood of surviving this dims with each passing moment.

I wanted to spend the rest of her life with her and then spend the rest of mine mourning her loss.

I can only hope the opposite is not true.

I want her to be happy no matter what. I take comfort in the fact that I had Kael rewrite my will, leaving my entire wine empire to her.

She will not have to marry anyone else unless she wants to, and she can have whatever life she wants.

I am grateful that I can do that for her.

It’s funny, I swear I can hear her voice.

The magickal energy in the room must be playing havoc with my mind.

The scent hits me first. Burnt herbs. Blood.

And something worse—something unnatural, metallic and sweet, like the air after a lightning strike.

The light is all wrong—flickering torches cast warped shadows that dance across the walls as if they’re alive.

At the center of it all stands the altar, slick with runes drawn in blood.

Candles—black, thick, and dripping—line the floor in a perfect circle, burning low.

The flames burn without flickering, too still, too quiet.

And on the altar— I spy Nico. His shirt is torn open, his wrists are bound with a cord that glows, as if enchanted.

His face is pale, but his eyes are still sharp.

He’s surrounded by the a bevy of odd items; a skull with hollow sockets that seem to follow us, a bowl of shimmering black liquid that pulses with its own heartbeat, a dagger with a gleaming obsidian blade.

.. and a mirror—framed in…is that bone?—angled so it reflects the altar and nothing else.

“Oh my God,” I mumble and then take a step forward, but Renzo grabs my arm.

“No.” He shakes his head. “Magick is dangerous. We must proceed carefully, or we might hurt Nico.”

I want to argue, but there’s a yell, and suddenly we’re surrounded by Malrick and his vampire goons. His eyes glow. “You’ve brought her to me.” He smiles. “Excellent.”

“No,” Renzo growls. “You lost. Luna stays married to Nico.”

Malrick’s face clouds with fury and then the sly smile is back. “No matter. He won’t be around much longer anyway.” He stares at me. “And then you will be mine.”

“Never,” Luca says and takes a swipe at Malrick.

All hell breaks loose, and I shrink back against the wall as Renzo, Luca, Leonardo, and Kael fight with Malrick and his crew. A head hits the wall next to me and rolls away. I struggle not to be sick, and shock makes my knees weak, so I sink to the floor.

The sound of Nico’s mother chanting seems to be reaching a crescendo, and the humming has become intense. The sounds of vampires screaming makes my hair stand up on end. I clamp my hands over my ears as I fight to get to my feet. I have to help Nico. I can’t let him die up there.

Hands are suddenly on my arms, helping me up.

I whip around to find Morwenna leaning over me, guiding me to my feet away from the fray.

I want to ask her what she’s doing here, but she shakes her head and moves me toward the corner.

Then she turns and starts mumbling something.

A moment later, a woman gets up from behind the altar and staggers toward us.

“Esme,” Morwenna calls, “is there still time?”

So this is Esme. Jealousy flares once again. This is the woman who took Nico from me. We don’t have time now, but there will be a moment when I can tell her just what I think of that.

Esme stumbles, catching herself on a pew. She finally arrives next to us and blurts out, “It’s almost over, but there’s still time, I think.”

Morwenna frowns. “Do you have the strength?”

Esme just nods. “I’ll give it a shot regardless.”

The sound suddenly changes. The vampires stopped screaming. The fight is over. Renzo, Luca, Leonardo, and Kael are picking themselves up. Malrick’s crew are all beheaded. I quickly put my hands on my face and turn my head away. I don’t want to see this. I’m afraid I’ll be sick.

“What can we do, Morwenna?” Leonardo asks.

“We cannot interrupt the ritual by attacking Nerezza or by trying to grab Nico. Either action will harm him more than help him. He could die. Esme and I will try to help Nico by easing the magick that binds him, along with his physical ties. He has to do the rest.”

Nico’s family stands there looking as helpless as I feel. “There must be something I can do,” I demand.

Morwenna turns to me. “Send him your love. Tell him how much you love him, how much you need him. He will hear you.”

I’m taken aback. Those are private things. Things we haven’t really had time to process. I catch sight of Nico again. I’m not even sure he’s alive. He’s so still. I am hit by a wave of love so strong that I have to reach out to Renzo to steady myself.

This is my husband, and he’s in trouble. I speak softly. “I love you, Nico. Don’t give up. Morwenna and Esme are helping you. You must fight. I need you. I love you. Don’t leave me.” I continue to murmur words of encouragement as tears roll down my cheeks. “Don’t leave me, damn you.”

“Nerezza,” Leonardo calls in a commanding tone. “Stop hurting our son.”

Nico’s mother’s face registers a flicker of surprise, but she ignores him like she hadn’t hear him at all.

She stands at the head of the altar, one arm trembling ever so slightly, the other limp at her side.

Her robe clings to her, her red hair is wild around her face.

Her mouth moves quickly, the ancient words rising and falling in cadence with the flames.

“Don’t interrupt her,” Esme breathes, touching Leonardo’s arm.

“What?” Leonardo snarls. “She’s about to kill him?—”

“She won’t,” Esme hisses. “Not like that. If you break the ritual now, the energy will tear Nico apart. She's too far in, but... look—her arm.”

We all look. Nerezza's left arm dangles uselessly at her side. Her voice is rising in pitch, chanting faster now, desperate. Sweat beads on her brow. She’s weakening. “The last ritual cost her.” Esme’s voice is tight. “She’s trying to finish before she collapses.”

Luca’s fists are clenched at his sides. Leonardo—silent and deadly—has one hand on the hilt of a sword that glows faintly with runes. Renzo’s entire body vibrates with fury, his fangs bared.

I can’t breathe. I take a step forward, and the force field around the altar pulses. Dark magick. A wall of energy. My skin prickles just being close to it.

Morwenna and Esme both begin to mumble in a language I don’t recognize. They raise their arms and get louder.

My heart thunders in my chest. “Nico, please don’t leave me. Please fight,” I yell.

Then—Nico moves. It’s subtle. Just his fingers at first, twitching against the cords. Then his hand curls around the dagger. He’s awake. Awake and watching.

Footsteps.

Voices.

My brothers.

Luna.

She’s here. They’re here. But the power wall holds. I feel it shimmer when Luna gets closer. I can hear her. She’s telling me she loves me. I love you, too, I want to yell, but I still can’t move.

I hear Esme’s voice—calm, urgent. “Don’t interrupt. It’ll kill him.”

Damn right it will. But I’m not going to wait to be rescued. I want to see my wife again. I want to hold her close and make her smile.

Suddenly, I sense a shift. A loosening in the cords that hold me, as if the poison and the magick are wearing off.

It’s Esme and…Morwenna. They are helping me.

I shift my hand—just barely. The dagger rests beside me, meant to be used in the final bloodletting.

The ties that bind me fall away as Morwenna and Esme get louder.

My fingers twitch. I drag them toward the hilt inch by inch, biting down a groan as I fight the magick.

Mother’s chant is speeding up. She’s panicking. She had to know she was too weak to finish this cleanly. The last ritual took her arm. This one’s going to take more. Unless she gets everything she needs from me now.

The energy crests. The air warps. My heart seizes. I see sparks behind my eyes. I have to move.

My fingers close around the dagger. Lunging upward, I summon everything I have left and drive the blade into her chest. Straight into the heart that never beat for anyone but herself.

Her scream is a symphony of rage and disbelief. The force field collapses with a thunderous crack. Magick explodes outward, knocking everyone back. The mirror shatters. The candles extinguish. The skull splits. But the ritual—it's too late to stop. The power doesn’t die. It must go somewhere.

And it chooses me.

The moment is fire and chaos and pain. My body arches as the energy pours into me, ancient and primal, howling through my veins. I feel it claiming me—reforming me. Not as a pawn. Not as a conduit.

As its vessel.

My mother’s scream echoes through the sanctuary again. Her face is twisted in rage as blood pours from her chest, and then she moves. She comes at me, wild, broken, fast. I brace myself. But the blade falls before she reaches me.

A single, clean strike. Her head hits the floor. Her body crumples beside it. My father stands behind her, his sword still dripping. He meets my gaze. For once, there’s no fear in his eyes. Only grief.

And me—I’m still breathing. Alive. Changed. Everything is quiet now. Except inside me.

Inside me, something ancient has awakened. And I don’t know what I’ve become.