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16

EVANGELINE

“Y ou’re sure about this?” Malachi murmured, casting me a sideways glance that wasn’t exactly filled with confidence.

“If I wasn’t, we wouldn’t have come all this way.” I gave him another once over. Honestly, he looked like shit. So did I, but he’d taken one look at my clothing, waved his hand, and now I was at least blood-free.

He looked like he’d been run through a meat grinder.

“After White Chapel burned to the ground, this is their second largest base of operations. If they’re hiding Ravok, this place is fortified and secure, and makes logistical sense.”

After he’d had some time to recover from almost dying, the moment Malachi could dematerialize, we’d tracked Ravok and—not surprisingly—ended up in Sleepy Hollow, New York.

The Silverwood Compound loomed on a slight rise above us, pale sandstone walls half-hidden behind a stacked stone wall that had stood for centuries. The humid morning air was heavy with the weight of history, as if the very ground whispered forgotten secrets.

Which was no surprise, given Canterbury Church had once stood on this site, the first sanctuary in the New World, and though its ancient bones were long buried beneath Silverwood’s foundation, the land still hummed with hallowed energy, which was going to be a problem.

As a vampire, I felt that cosmic vibration to my bones, like some sort of holy warning signal— do not set foot on this dirt, or you’ll be incinerated like the heathens you are.

Malachi crouched beside me, silent as the wind through the trees. He was quieter than usual, not a single smart-ass comment, his breathing a little too shallow, hands trembling slightly. His magic was slowly refilling and though he refused to admit he was still weak, I sensed the strain rolling off him like static electricity.

“You should have drank more,” I told him quietly, reaching out to scratch off a spot of dried blood from the side of his face.

“I took enough, I wasn’t going to drain you,” he countered, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“We both know that’s not true.” He’d locked down my magic right after he sealed the bite on my wrist, and my head was blissfully quiet, despite the questions I kept asking myself.

First and foremost— what the fuck kind of magic did I have?

“Is Ravok even here?” I whispered, my eyes scanning the perimeter.

Courtesy of my new magic, I easily discerned the threads of blue witch magic securing the site, woven like trip lines across the razor wire fences, over the grass and cast like a net over the nondescript, sprawling building.

He nodded once, his gaze focusing on the main building. “I feel him.”

We crept closer, the morning thick with mist, turning the compound into a dreamscape of shifting shadow and light. I checked my knives—unfamiliar, since they were Malachi’s—but at least I had steel to rely on. The buzzing incandescent lighting along the building exterior flickered strangely, as if there was a short in the wiring.

Hidden beneath a layer of Malachi’s glamour, we followed the curve of the cracked asphalt driveway around the outbuildings before I spotted movement.

Silas and Alistair flanked the entrance, their pale figures stark against the stone wall. Thralls, bound to their master’s will, their hunched bodies shadows of the formidable warriors they once were. Silas, the man I’d once feared above all others, was bowed over in servitude. Alistair, my cruelest instructor, looked like a wraith, his red tinted eyes staring blankly into the distance.

And then there was Ravok.

He loomed in the darkness beyond the threshold of the open doors, his form obscured by the shimmering blue ward protecting him. He was skeletal, his face even more sunken than a few hours ago. Yet the power surrounding him was undeniable. Darkness pulsed around him the way dusk crept over the horizon—slow, inevitable, inescapable.

He lifted a hand, and every shadow swept toward him as if he controlled them. The buzzing lights flickered violently, the very air seemed to bend in submission, warping beneath his will.

As if they were of one mind, Silas and Alistair turned and knelt at Ravok’s feet, heads bowed as he spoke, too softly for me to hear. Then they disappeared into the darkness behind their master while I shuddered in horror.

“We’ve seen what we needed to. We’re leaving.” Malachi’s hand closed over mine, the warmth of his body sinking in as his magic slowly gathered, wrapping around us like a shield as he prepared to dematerialize us back to safety.

If you could call the compromised, ruined castle safe.

I hadn’t called Blake and Riordan, even though my deadline had passed. Better to call them to say Ravok was dead and no longer a threat, than Malachi got his ass kicked and now we’ve decided to face him down a second time in less than three hours.

Yeah, Blake would have tossed me over his shoulder, locked me in a tower and thrown away the key. I had to prove to them I could handle myself.

Every lesson, every hour on the sparring mat, had led me right here.

I wasn’t a huge believer in all that destiny crap, but there had to be a reason why my magic was free, and Ravok was here. Looking at him, he was weak. But my body trembled beneath the sheer effort of keeping this magic contained, yet we could not afford to miss this chance.

There was a saying—in war, speed is victory—and right now, we had the advantage.

I wasn’t about to squander it.

Ravok’s gaze raked over our hiding spot and Malachi swayed, pressing a hand to his temple. I caught him around the waist before he fell over completely. His ribs heaved fast beneath my arms and I gripped him tighter, suddenly realizing how vulnerable we were.

If something happened to him, I couldn’t get us out of here.

“You’re in no shape to dematerialize,” I murmured, and he tensed up, his body a long line of trembling muscle, sweat beading on his top lip and forehead. He tried to shove me away, but I held firm. If he collapsed, we were both trapped.

“Ravok looks like shit, but his magic is strong,” I murmured, feeling the pull of that darkness against my own power. And this wasn’t just power; this was something deeper. Whatever his magic…that darkness called to me, lifting the hair on my arms, sending shivers skating along my skin.

Malachi’s jaw tightened, as if he sensed my reaction, then set me gently away. “We need to leave,” he murmured. “Tonight, once I’m stronger, we’ll return.”

“No, I need to kill him now, while he’s weak. I can do this, I just need to get closer,” I argued, eyeing the layers of magic protecting Ravok, the fences and walls, the hundreds of security precautions in place to keep us out. My father and uncle, ready to lay down their lives for this monster.

I swallowed hard, forcing my own magic to stay quiet as we inched closer. The hallowed ground between us and Ravok would be a problem, sapping our magic once we tried to cross over. I sensed the threat from that thin veil of divine protection, a threadbare sanctuary meant to keep our kind out.

I stole another look at Malachi. Maybe we should wait.

Ravok turned slightly, speaking to someone behind him. For a heartbeat, I thought he’d given the order to attack and we’d be swarmed, but then his voice cut through the stillness like a blade.

“Bring him.”

Scuffling issued from the darkness behind him, and a bound male dressed in familiar black was dragged before the Ancient and forced to his knees. His dark blond hair was matted with blood, his familiar face tear streaked as he looked between Silas and Alistair.

As if he expected mercy.

“Oh fuck,” I muttered as Dante emerged from the shadows, his face a mask of emptiness, that distinctive red glowing from his gaze as he looked down at his own nephew. Not Virgil, thank God, but one of Alistair’s sons, and they were serving him up like dinner on a silver platter.

My cousin fought as Ravok gripped his throat and dragged him upright, and I forced myself not to look away when the monster tore out his throat, blood splattering everywhere as he put every bit of his vicious brutality on display.

Ravok’s intent was clear. He knew we were watching.

When he was finished, he tossed my cousin at Alistair’s feet, and I searched my uncle’s face for any sign of regret or grief, but there was nothing.

Nothing at all.

Ravok stepped over the body, not bothering to look down as my cousin convulsed on the floor. Ravok’s face was still gaunt, but even that amount of blood had filled out his cheeks, his eyes burning brighter. Magic coiled around him, and I yearned to cross the space between us, to taste that crushing power for myself.

“Evangeline,” the monster murmured, and though the words were quiet, they resounded inside me like thunder. “This could all be yours,” he continued, dark, shadowy tendrils reaching through the doorway, writhing like dying snakes in the sunlight. “Your destiny. All you have to do is come and claim it.”

Malachi tensed, his fingers gripping my wrist. “Vicious, we have to leave.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen enough,” I whispered. But as we slipped away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter what we did next, we were already too late.

* * *

A painfully slow sonata played as I stared in awe at the restored sitting room, the gleaming black piano without a single speck of dust, the green velvet sofa with its perfectly fluffed squishy pillows.

Everything back in place, not a speck of damage anywhere.

Beyond the soaring windows, under a violently blue sky, the gardens bloomed in perfect harmony, black-red roses nestled between glorious waves of colorful flowers crammed into neat, orderly beds.

“What…how is this even possible?”

“By having the most skilled abjurist in the world owing me a favor, that’s how,” Malachi quipped, though his tone lacked its usual casual arrogance. I couldn’t stop staring. That wall had been split by a crack wide enough to drive a car through and there…the roof had nearly collapsed.

Even the pool of dried blood was gone, the marble floor pristinely clean.

“I don’t understand. A few hours ago, this castle was destroyed. Like, total destruction to the point of no return, and now,” I waved my hands at the impossible scene before me, “it’s back to normal. This is not possible.”

“It is when you have a team of abjurists working for a solid two hours to repair the damage. This room is not the problem, Vicious, Ravok is the problem.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s an abjurist?”

“A specially trained mage with the ability to reshape the physical world into whatever they wish.”

Huh. Now that sounded handy as fuck.

They’d even gotten the smell right, a mix of ancient stone and candle wax, tinged with the slightest touch of recently-spent magic, like a thunderstorm had just passed through. The very walls seemed to hum, as though they were talking.

“This, too, shall pass.” Malachi waved his hand at the humming walls before he dropped heavily into a chair on the other side of the room. “Lasts a week or so, then settles, annoying but harmless.”

“So you called in a favor to the most skilled mage in the world —nice name drop, by the way—before we did our reconnaissance mission? That’s a lot of multi-tasking, even for you. I thought you were still recovering?”

“I’m perfectly recovered, Vicious. I drank from you, remember?” But his hands tightened on the chair arms, his eyes not meeting mine as I wondered what he was hiding. Sunlight filtered through the windows, dancing across his handsome features, casting his guilty expression in shifting shades of shadow and gold.

“We have to talk about Ravok,” he said, instead. “What you just saw was nothing more than him taunting you.”

“He killed my cousin. True, they’re all a bunch of assholes, but…that was Alistair’s son. My uncle is a monster, but he didn’t even flinch.”

Malachi’s gaze met mine. “There is nothing human left of your uncles, or your father, or anyone else Ravok has corrupted. And if he gets ahold of you,” his entire body shuddered, his grip tightening down until his knuckles whitened, “you will end up the same. You would become his slave in every sense of the word, a total loss of free will, thought and purpose.”

Something strange washed over me then, a whisper of heated breath over my skin and every hair on my body rose, pure desire sweeping through me, even though this was definitely not the time . I narrowed my eyes at Malachi and took my usual seat on the couch.

“So he didn’t turn them into vampires, like Riordan turned me? They’re…thralls?”

“Yes. Riordan gifted you over a portion of his power, during an equitable exchange of blood between you, which grants you both certain rights, such as enhanced strength, speed, and the ability to speak mind to mind?” I nodded, that strange, warm sensation turning my insides to warm, molten honey.

That wasn’t… right .

“Turning them into thralls was simply the completion of the process they started when they served Tyrell. They’d been drinking his blood for centuries, Ravok simply took away their free will and bound them to him through blind obedience. They will die for him, or sacrifice a child. Either way, they are his to command.”

“Ravok turned you,” I pointed out, my hips shifting on the couch as I went damp between my thighs for no reason whatsoever . I studied Malachi’s face for signs of guilt, because sure as shit, he was doing this.

“He didn’t turn you into a thrall.”

“That was at the beginning of time, Evangeline.” His tone was almost gentle. “Thralls did not yet exist, as Caine had not yet learned how to twist his power to darker means. But the way we were turned—by force, against our will, then used as slaves—was still an abuse of power, and at its core, evil.”

“That had to be terrible,” I murmured, pressing my hand to my fevered forehead. “No wonder you wanted him dead.”

Riordan had turned me to save my life, and had I been alive, he would have asked my consent. It took a real asshole to march across ancient Europe and forcibly change innocents, leaving starving vampires in his wake.

“As far as your magic, you need to understand something, Evangeline.” Malachi’s low voice carried unmistakable weight. “Bloodmoon magic isn’t just dark magic—it’s something far, far greater.”

I held my breath as he continued.

“At its core, this is necromancy. The power to command death itself, to rend the veil between life and what lies beyond. Those who wield dark magic can summon horrors from the void, rot flesh with a mere thought, or cloak themselves in shadows so deep that even light recoils.”

A chill slid down my spine, extinguishing every bit of desire. “That kind of magic—shouldn’t exist.”

Malachi’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “And yet, it does. At its most potent, Bloodmoon magic can open doors to realms that should never be walked by mortals.” His voice grew quieter, but the weight of his words only deepened. “But power like that always has a cost. This magic doesn’t just take—it devours. The stronger the spell, the more it feeds.”

I swallowed, my throat tight. “Feeds on what?”

His eyes met mine, unblinking. “On the caster. Their mind, their soul—until there’s nothing left but hunger.”

Like what happened— almost happened —to Riordan, when Ravok had him in his grasp.

The sunlight died away when a cloud passed by, throwing jagged shadows across the floor. The weight of Malachi’s grim warning pressed against my chest, stealing away my breath. I had seen dark magic before, but what I possessed—was something far more evil.

Something cruel.

Another wave of carnal heat washed through me, and I exhaled shakily, studying a definitely-not-guilty-looking Malachi. In fact, it seemed like his mind was somewhere else entirely.

Maybe I was getting sick? Or… had I become corrupted by my own magic? Every muscle clenched around another flush of heat, so intense I doubled over, air whooshing out of my lungs.

“Vicious, what’s wrong?” Malachi’s hands were on me, touching my face, my arms, my back, and God, his touch just ramped my desire higher, every brush of his fingers leaving a trail of searing heat on my skin.

“I’m just…are you doing something to me?” I hissed, glaring up at him through a haze of lust, pleasure streaking through me in unstoppable waves.

His nostrils flared before he stepped away, retreating until he was by the piano. “I’m sorry, I forgot myself, I’ll…” His cheeks were bright pink, almost embarrassed, and just like that, desire drained from my body, like he’d pulled the plug and every bit of burning heat swirled away.

“Just when I think I can trust you,” I growled. “What did you do to me?”

“I didn’t do anything,” he murmured, staring out the window, two spots of color on his face. “I forgot to do something. But you won’t feel anything like that again.” He straightened his spine. “Now where were we? Your magic, I believe?”

“What just happened?” I demanded, “I felt like I was about to…” Now my face heated, a flush creeping up my throat as I looked anywhere except at Malachi Draven.

“I apologize, Evangeline, that was unforgiveable,” he said softly. “Usually, when I am around you, I mute myself, so you are not…affected by my power. I slipped up, but it shall not happen again.”

“What do you mean you mute yourself?”

“We should get back to your magic,” he said firmly. “And the dangers of wielding such power.”

“I’d rather delve into why I felt like…” I squirmed. Telling Malachi I almost jumped his bones wasn’t productive right now. “Why did I feel like that?”

“Because I am ancient, and you are young, and it is best if I keep certain controls in place so not to unduly influence you.”

“Bullshit,” I hissed. “You’re not that noble and I’m in control of myself at all times .” His brow arched.

I tipped my chin up. “I’ll prove it. Try that again, and I’ll show you…”

My mind went blank as my body liquified right down to my bones, turning into a pool of warm honey and raw nerve endings. I was moving before I even knew I’d gotten up, tugging Malachi’s shirt free, rubbing my hands up his warm, smooth chest, burying my nose in the hollow of his throat to taste his skin.

Fucking delicious.

His strong hands clasped my ass as he ground himself into me with a guttural groan, my body glowing like a newly forged star. Yes, deeper. Harder. More.

“No, Vicious, not when you’d regret this.” He stepped away, breathing hard as I pursued him across the room, some far off part of my brain horrified, but the rest of me totally on board with pinning him to that green couch and riding him like a cowgirl.

Then, like before, the heat, the desire, all slipped away, leaving me cold and panting, feeling like I was standing naked beneath a spotlight. And like a complete fool.

“This isn’t you,” he said gently, cupping my cheek like he was thinking of kissing me. “This is biology and hormones and blood, taking over logic and reason. Which is why I’ve always muted myself whenever I’ve been around you.”

“I don’t believe you,” I muttered, making no attempt to pull away.

“Believe me or not, it’s the truth.” He sighed. “I had so many plans, when it came to you, Vicious, but…hurting you was never one of them.”

“Well,” I grumbled, “It’s far too late for that.” I’d rather go back to fighting, than face whatever the fuck just happened. “Tell me why I saw faces when I used my magic against him? What was that?”

Malachi’s expression darkened, making him look almost inhuman for a heartbeat. “Ravok’s sins come to life, his innermost desires, his worst fears.”

“Sins? Worst fears?”

“This magic of yours…your story began eons ago.” His voice went quiet, barely more than a whisper. “For most of her life, Rhiannon was kept hidden, protected by someone Aoife trusted.” He pressed his lips together, a strangled expression twisting his handsome face.

“Her power was bound because her magic was too dangerous to ever be used, but if we’re going to stop Ravok, you will have to use yours, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

The fire wavered. Somewhere deep within the castle, a cold wind howled through the corridors, like the breath of something screaming beyond the veil and I wondered if I was the only one who heard it.

“The flames…turned into…people.” Before, the knowledge had been unsettling, now, the implications were terrifying. “And when Ravok saw them,” I said carefully, “that wasn’t something he was expecting. That’s a good thing, right?”

Malachi’s face remained carefully blank, not even a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.

“Perhaps. We are fighting an Ancient who has already seen every outcome to every battle and had planned his response accordingly. If you’re right, and he was surprised…” Malachi’s brow furrowed. “Perhaps you are still useful.”

I shivered. Because I knew, with absolute certainty, that look of surprise on Ravok’s face had been tinged with something else—absolute greed.