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35

EVANGELINE

W e worked through the night, until the birds started chirping, and the pitch darkness gave way to the pink of morning. I could barely raise my arms one more time, my phantom flames twining obediently around my hands and fingers.

My body was limp with exhaustion, but I was ecstatic.

Blake was no longer up in the window watching, and I wasn’t sure when he’d left.

The wind carried away the last of the spent magic when Fiona and I crossed the threshold of Crimson House. Two months ago, I’d stepped into this house for the first time. Now, this place felt like home.

And I finally felt like I was making progress.

“I expected there to be more…preparations going on.” I frowned down the empty hall. “Maybe they’re waiting out front?”

Even after our lesson, my power had been slowly growing all morning, until my magic felt like a living thing, begging to be set free. Every cast of power was like letting steam off a kettle, releasing enough pressure so I didn’t explode.

But all I could think of was Malachi’s face, his blood on my fingertips. The blood I could still taste. Still smell. Now I wanted to face Ravok again.

I wanted to make him pay for his sins—I wanted him to fucking atone.

I might not be able to control my magic completely, but I had tamed this power enough to breathe. And now, I was ready to find Riordan and Blake and get to Malachi before it was too late.

Fiona tied back her fiery hair, golden eyes sharp and alert. “You should wait, Evangeline,” she counseled. “A day, or longer.” There was no judgement in her voice, only a hint of lingering concern.

“You didn’t see him. He’ll be dead in a day.” I flexed my fingers, power humming beneath my skin, flowing like living fire through my veins. “I know you’re right, but we don’t have that kind of time.”

As we hurried down the hall, I sensed the layers of magic embedded in these walls, inhaling the different scents from each room as we passed. The scent of old parchment, candle wax, then the faintest trace of something metallic—blood, maybe. This place had seen its share of violence, but strangely, the rooms were all empty.

“Where is everyone?” I asked, unease dragging claws down my spine. “Nash, at least, should be giving his men a pep talk.”

I shifted into slayer mode, my footsteps quiet as we moved with purpose through the halls, Fiona a silent shadow at my side. We needed to find Riordan and Blake, figure out how soon we could leave for Sleepy Hollow. Every moment we wasted meant Malachi was closer to death, and I had this terrible feeling his time was running out.

Finally, I saw the outline of someone tall, rushing down the hall toward us.

“Evangeline.” Eldric looked genuinely happy to see me. “Back from enemy territory.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I can’t wait to hear all about your adventures. Every salacious detail.”

“Don’t be an ass, brother,” Fiona grumbled. “Where are they?”

“Out front doing final prep before we leave.” Eldric lowered his voice. “There was too much testosterone out there, and I came inside when the posturing grew wearisome. Honestly, I can only take so much sword rattling.” His expression brightened. “I am so glad you’re back. You can help me with my quest.”

“And what quest is that?” I asked, while Fiona rolled her eyes as if she’d already heard this a hundred times already.

“Why, winning your sweet sister’s heart and making her fall in love with me, of course. I have this idea…”

“Shut up, Eldric.” Fiona’s face was strained. “We are as close to war as we have ever been and I need you focused. Did you reinforce the ward as instructed?”

“Of course I did.” He inspected his nails. “The spell was child’s play. But I fail to see why you’re so concerned. Crimson House has never been breached, these wards have stood solid for centuries.”

“Well, I’m rechecking your spell work, to be sure,” Fiona decided, heading toward the foyer. “It had better not be sloppy, brother.”

“She’s never trusted me,” Eldric fake-whispered out of the side of his mouth as he followed her. “Typical older sister behavior, if you ask me.”

Just before we reached the front doors, the air shifted.

The change was subtle, like the hush before a storm, but then I felt it—an invisible force pressing against my skin, thick and suffocating. A deep, primal fear tightened my chest, like some unspoken warning to flee.

“The outer wards have activated,” Fiona hissed, her eyes flashing as she whirled toward the entrance. “Someone is trying to get inside.”

My stomach clenched. She should know, she’d been instrumental in reinforcing them, just a few days ago. I went to follow, but Eldric’s hand clamped down over my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

“No.” Eldric switched from careless jokster to serious protector in the blink of an eye. “If Ravok is here for you, Evangeline, you need to stay out of sight.”

My heart stopped dead, I stretched out my senses, letting a hint of my magic out. I didn’t have any weapons, and scolded myself for being in such a vulnerable position. Again . A stronger pulse of energy throbbed past us down the hallway and a shiver ran down my spine. Whoever was out there wasn’t just testing the wards—they were trying to break them.

“How strong are the protections?” I asked, shrugging Eldric’s hand off my shoulder and moving toward the front doors. Fuck Ravok . If we were under attack, I was going to fight, not cower inside.

“Strong enough to hold,” Fiona said, falling into step beside me. “But if they’ve got a skilled caster—or worse, multiple casters—they’ll get through eventually.”

“Not through my magic, they won’t.” Eldric’s golden eyes were hard, all traces of humor gone. “Your sister is safe, Evie, no one will get through.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell them Ravok’s magic was like no other. That he’d ripped through Malachi’s glamour in a matter of minutes.

When we breached the front doors, the outside air swam with power, magic prickling my skin, the wards whispering their warnings in a language older than time. Nash was already shouting orders, as something powerful loomed just beyond Crimson House’s boundary, clawing at the defenses with desperate intent.

And then, impossibly, beneath the smell of magic and darkness I smelled…cedar. Ice.

“Drop the wards. Now.” I told Fiona, my throat tightening with emotion. “That’s not Ravok. It’s Malachi.” I took another deep breath, my eyes flying wide.

“And my cousin, of all people.”

* * *

We burst out onto the front lawn into a melee of armed guards and testosterone, all that masculine energy focused on the imagined threat outside.

If Malachi and Virgil did manage to break through Fiona’s ward, they’d be dead in seconds.

“Wait.” I waved my hands, racing down the front steps toward the group. “That’s not who you think it is.”

“Silver, get back inside.” Riordan swung his head in my direction. “If Ravok is here, Blake and I will deal with him.”

Together, they were a sight, Riordan’s brilliantly white magic forming a host of ghostly, snapping creatures, their gaping mouths tipped with red, while Blake’s deathly shadows swarmed like wraiths, poised to attack.

The mix of their white and black power took my breath away.

I slid to a stop beside Blake, reached through the hazy shadows whirling around him and gripped his wrist. “That’s not Ravok. It’s Malachi. And for some reason, he has Virgil with him.”

Blake did that unsettling, slow swivel of his head to peer down at me, and I dropped his wrist, then slowly stepped back. His eyes were wholly black, edge to edge, not a hint of white. He looked fucking…possessed.

“Well, that’s not scary at all,” Eldric muttered, hand gripping my arm, dragging me to a safe distance while Blake snarled like some feral beast, fangs bared.

“Blake, this is not an attack,” I explained carefully, moving so Eldric was squarely behind me. “This is just Malachi, and he’s probably injured. We have to let him through.”

“The traitor stays outside, he’s a threat to you.” Blake’s deep voice was layered in power, and something equally dark hummed down the mating bond, sending dread shuddering straight through me. “Who is this Virgil?”

“My cousin. Dante’s eldest son, he’s…okay.” In fact, I had no idea if Virgil was okay, but he’d been my only friend growing up and if he was here with Malachi…there had to be good reason.

A low, feral growl scraped up out of my mate’s throat, the kind I’d never heard before, but I stood my ground, praying I could get through to him. His shadows had almost swallowed us, and while I wasn’t afraid, their immense power skated over my skin, filled with pent up rage.

“Blake, Fiona’s dropping the wards,” I said, although she didn’t look too sure about this, either, “and I need you to promise not to hurt Malachi. Or Virgil.”

Another one of those growls was my only answer, so I let a tendril of my magic unfurl and Blake’s eyes flared, broad chest heaving as he began to pant, my dark flames weaving through his shadows, like dusk turning to darkest night, my magic was even blacker than his, not something I found comforting right now.

My mate’s deadly, menacing growl turned to a rough, silken purr, then I was crushed against his muscled body as he lifted me up and banded his arms around me, pressing my core against his hard cock—exactly where he wanted me, as that purr deepened.

Except…right place…definitely the wrong time, as twenty sets of eyes turned to us.

“Blake, what in the fuck are you doing?” Riordan hissed. “We’re under attack.”

“We’re not under attack,” I reminded him breathlessly, trying to wiggle away. “It’s only Malachi, Fiona needs to let him inside.”

“Fucking hell, Blake, keep your shit together. Fiona, drop the wards, but only enough to see what’s out there.” Riordan’s face shone with apology as he added, “Just to be safe. Evie, this could be a trick.”

Blake’s face was buried in my throat now, his lips nibbling and tasting, my core soaking wet, even in front of an audience. Fiona’s eyes were wide, Eldric had a big, shit eating grin on his face, while Nash and his men studiously looked anywhere except at the two of us.

“Blake, put me down.” I shoved against his chest and his arms just tightened, our magic now dancing around us like a dark fire storm. “We have an audience ,” I hissed, and he purred louder, grinding himself against me.

“Do it.” I dimly heard Riordan say, then electric charged power rippled over us, like lightning was about to strike.

I was still in that compromised position when a beat-to-shit Malachi stumbled through the opening in the ward, supported by a shell-shocked Virgil. Then my mate dropped me on my ass and launched himself across the open space like some apex predator on the hunt.