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EVANGELINE

W aiting was always the worst.

I stood beside Riordan in the shadow of Crimson House, my magic coiled tight within me like a serpent ready to strike. The setting sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawn, turning familiar ground into a stark landscape of misted shadow and fading light. Blake paced nearby like a giant, restless cat, his footsteps silent on the thick summer grass, while Malachi remained motionless as one of the statues, his eyes closed in concentration, trying to divine the moment of Ravok’s arrival.

The bastard was late.

“It’s been hours,” Riordan murmured, his fingers brushing mine. “Are you okay? You don’t have to be out here. You shouldn’t be out here.” The contact sent a spark racing across my skin, but I forced myself to focus on the wards. Come on. Where are you?

The first ripple came like a disturbance over still water, a shimmer in the air that made my teeth ache and my magic electrify. Fiona's sharp indrawn breath sent a full body shiver of dread and anticipation through me.

“Aria’s with them,” she hissed, her hands weaving complex patterns of fire in the air. “I taste her magic—but now it’s tainted with death and rotting things.” Fiona’s horror-filled eyes flicked to mine. “She’s been enthralled, like the others.”

The sky cracked, a sound that rent my eardrums, the air around us quaking.

Four centuries of magic—reinforced over generations—began to unravel in streams of angry, red light. What had stood solid for years now shuddered beneath the onslaught of Aria’s corrupted power.

“Don’t worry,” Eldric muttered, with a worried glance toward the house, where Angel watched from an upstairs window, “no enemy has ever breached the wards of Crimson House. And they won’t today.”

* * *

A few moments later, the protective dome, normally invisible, blazed with a sudden, desperate luminescence.

The first sign of the ward’s failure started at the west end, where dark magic seeped in like ink through clear water, spreading tendrils of corruption that ate through the ancient spell work like hungry rats.

“Eldric, reinforce that end of the ward,” Fiona shouted, and the red-haired vampire sent a wave of fire spilling across the failing ward, leaving the protective dome glowing with heat, sparks showering down over us.

For a moment, I thought we were safe, then the first tear appeared, like a razor slash through transparent silk, a jagged line that split the night. Through the opening, I caught glimpses: pale faces, gleaming eyes, the metallic glint of weapons.

Ravok's thralls, positioned like chess pieces around our shrinking refuge.

Flames danced between Fiona’s delicate fingers as she reinforced the wards, adding more and more layers of protection. But her movements grew more frantic with each passing moment, even with Eldric’s help.

Fractures appeared like cracks in ancient ice, spreading in jagged patterns across the surface, each new break wailing—the sound of centuries-old enchantments dying. The ward's outer layer began peeling away, flakes of ash raining down like black snow.

“We need more power,” Eldric shouted, glaring at Malachi. “You reinforce those fissures, I’ll seal over the main break.” The superheated air grew unbreathable as dragon fire licked up over the dome, melting the wards into a gleaming, solid surface.

“That will have to hold.” Eldric lowered his hands, fingers still wreathed in fire as his frantic eyes flew to mine. “Where is Angel? I need to check and see…”

With a hideous creak, ancient magics snapped one by one, each break releasing a shock wave of raw magic that made the air around us shake. The very stones of the castle groaned in response, as if mourning the loss of their guardian.

Malachi's glamour rose around us like a fine mist, distorting the air as his shield fell into place. “Save your strength,” he shouted to Fiona, “We'll need it when?—”

The ward fell like a dying star.

Fragments of spells and shards of power rained down upon us in a storm of light and shadow and fire. Everywhere the spent magic touched—stone or earth, left an ugly smear of black, plants turning to ash, stone covered in blight. Behind us, a soldier screamed, clawing at his face, his body engulfed in thick, black slime.

With one final, brilliant flash—the last echo of protection fell, revealing Ravok and the salivating throng at his back.

In the silence, even the wind seemed hesitant to cross through the space where magic had stood guard for so long. Painted in Ravok’s cruel, gloating smile, the truth was laid bare.

Crimson House stood unguarded for the first time in four hundred years.

* * *

I called up my power, my shadows gathering around my hands like liquid flame. Beside me, Riordan did the same, his white fire instantly forming a pack of devouring creatures, baying for blood, red tipped snouts pointed at the sky.

Blake's dark shadows patiently coiling around him as if death had all the time in the world, anticipating the carnage to come. We were all at full strength and yet, outside, Ravok’s superior power thudded through the night, pounding against my chest, hollowing out my ears.

And behind him, a rotting army, so many they disappeared into the darkness, bayed like dogs.

“Get inside the house,” I murmured to Eldric. “Find Angel and Bex. Make sure they’re somewhere safe.” I gripped his arm as he turned away. “If this goes wrong…get them away from here. Promise me, you will protect them both.”

“I won’t let anything happen to them. I swear.” Flames flickered in his eyes, illuminating his face, then he vanished.

On the other side of the tear, the grotesque army took shape. Fifty, perhaps a hundred thralls. Protected in their center, Ravok was a void of darkness, Aria at his side, her hands glowing with crimson power.

“Steady,” Riordan called, his voice thrumming with tension. None of us thought this fight would be easy, but seeing their numbers…we hadn’t thought we’d be completely outnumbered.

Fiona's fire flared hotter, the air itself groaning under the assault, and sweat trickled down my spine despite the cool night air. That faint haze of shimmering glamour between us and our enemies was little more than an illusion, and I couldn't help but wonder if it would be enough.

But we had four—five, if I counted myself—vampires with ferocious magic, and Eldric…I snuck a glance over my shoulder at Crimson House…he would watch over Angel. Get her to safety if Ravok got past us.

We stood our ground, surrounded by a web of fire and shadow and glamour, cool night air crackling with power, as our magicks slowly mixed together to form a storm of devouring darkness flecked with bolts of pure energy.

Shadowy death and monstrous creatures, fire and glamour, and my dark, consuming flames turned into a formidable wall that no one in their right mind would dare challenge.

Even so, those thralls were about to charge across the barrier.

I sensed their anticipation, their bloodlust, like a string about to snap.

And then it did.