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EVANGELINE

M alachi's glamour frayed at the edges, like silk unraveling in slow motion as the attacking thralls dragged their sharp, jagged fingernails down the shield, letting in more of that putrid reek.

This was fucking pathetic.

A flimsy, invisible illusion was all that was keeping us alive.

If they got through us…Angel was inside Crimson House, protected by Eldric, but Ravok would search the castle, then burn it to the ground, because he was a scorched-earth kind of guy.

Please let Eldric get her and Bex out of here. Please.

Glamour protected us at the moment, but now, that barrier wavered beneath Aria’s relentless assault. Sweat beaded on Malachi's forehead, his usually composed features tight with strain.

“Your barriers are weakening, my son,” Ravok's voice slithered through the magic-clogged air. “You feel it, don't you? The way our powers recognize each other?” His red tinted darkness probed at the shield, black tendrils seeking a way inside. “We are the same, you and I. Blessed with the same magic. But I've had centuries longer to perfect my craft.”

Malachi's response was a subtle strengthening of his shield, but the constant effort was taking its toll. Each attack from Ravok required more effort to resist, each breach took longer to seal.

And Ravok had brought someone new. A vampire with brown hair, a slight frame, and a hooked nose that somehow reminded me of Tyrell. The thralls seemed to obey his commands as readily as they did Ravok’s.

My father was behind them, along with Alistair, but…God, they looked horrendous, flesh practically peeling off their faces, their cheeks sagging off bone.

All around us, thralls fell in droves. Fiona's golden fire cut through them like a scythe through wheat, while mine reduced them to dust. But for each one we destroyed, two more seemed ready to take their place. They weren't meant to defeat us, I realized with growing dread.

They were meant to wear us down.

“Evie, on your left —” Fiona's warning came just in time. I spun, shadows whipping around me like a cloak, as another group of thralls lunged forward. Their empty eyes and grasping hands disappeared into my darkness, and then a shower of dust floated down, settling onto the muddy ground.

But the effort of maintaining such constant defense was beginning to wear on me.

Through gaps in the fighting, I caught glimpses of Ravok. He moved like smoke, always a little closer, no matter how hard we fought or how many thralls we destroyed. His eyes never left me, and his smile grew wider with each step he took in my direction.

A flash of crimson light cut through the chaos. Aria's magic, aimed straight at Malachi. The witch's laughter rang out, high and mocking. “Still playing protector, Malachi? Still pretending you belong with them ?” Her power struck his glamour like blood-red lightning. “You chose the wrong side. The losing side, just like you did before.”

Fiona and I moved as one, our magic intertwining. Her golden flames wrapped around my shadow flames, creating a barrier between Aria and Malachi. The witch's next attack splashed against our combined defense, but the effort of stopping her made my arms shake.

“ Focus on Ravok .” Blake's shout barely carried over the chaos. He and Riordan were surrounded by thralls, their combined magic carving a gory path through the horde, but there were more. Always more.

Malachi's glamour flickered and then, Ravok was there.

Right in front of me .

I hadn’t even seen him move, but he was close enough to see the ancient hunger in his eyes, the patience of a predator who had waited centuries for this moment.

“Little shadow,” he breathed, and his hand passed straight through Malachi's failing shield as if it were nothing more than mist. Before I could rear back, his fingers closed around my throat, cold as death and strong as iron. “At last.”

“ Evie —” Angel's scream cut through everything—the raging battle, the chaos, the crushing pressure around my throat. Ravok turned toward the sound, his attention drawn by the raw desperation in my sister's voice.

She raced through the front door, hair streaming behind her like a banner of pure gold, legs pumping as she ran. Eldric was right behind her, long arms sweeping her up and vanishing in the blink of an eye, but he was too late.

Ravok’s eyes glowed with a malicious anticipation that made my heart stop.

No. No. Angel was supposed to remain hidden. She was supposed to stay safe.

“Such a sweet sister, coming to your aid. I see the truth in your eyes, shadow wielder, but don’t be afraid. We all have our weaknesses, now I’ve found yours.”

As I gathered my power, a terrible certainty settled over me: this was exactly what he'd wanted all along. He wasn't just trying to take me. He was trying to draw everyone I loved closer.

So he could hurt them. Use them. Kill them .

And his plan was working perfectly.

There was so much screaming—Riordan, Blake, Malachi—yet Ravok’s leering grin was all I could see. “She is a prize . I can see why Tyrell had to possess such a beauty.”

“I will kill you before you lay a finger on her.”

Ravok’s smile turned wicked. “I’ve heard those words before. From your lover. But he failed, as you will fail.” He was so close, I saw my own reflection in his dark gaze. “My son tried to keep Rhiannon safe, but in the end, what could he do against me? Nothing .”

Something cracked in my chest, my heart caving in with every malicious, gloating word.

“I will tell you a secret. He thought her magic destroyed her, but the poison was me, all along. He never kept me away from her. I gutted her, from the inside out. And now, I shall do the same to you, and he will watch, as helpless as before.”

On those words, the tide turned like a sudden winter wind.

With Angel's warning still ringing in my ears, Ravok's crushing grip became the key twisting inside me—unlocking a deeper well of power I hadn't even known existed. The air around Ravok and I thundered beneath the force of a coming storm, the ground shuddering beneath our feet.

My ears hollowed out, my skin burning like dragonfire as more and more magic crawled up out of the depths. Ravok yanked his hands off my throat, his eyes flaring in shock before he dematerialized.

My shadowy flames rolled outward like Death itself, unstoppable—inevitable—no longer only consuming the thralls but consuming everything in their path until not a single living thing was left. A gaping emptiness was all that remained between me and the brown-haired vampire, Ravok reforming at his side, nothing but dark wisps and piles of ash where fifty thralls had just been.

To my right, Aria and Fiona battled back and forth, red magic against fire, equally matched.

On my left, Riordan and Blake cast their combined white and black magic, creating a devastating wave that swept through the remaining forces, leaving swathes of ichor-stained ground where thralls had stood moments ago.

Ravok raised his hand and the few remaining survivors grouped around their Master and the other vampire, forming a living—or in this case, dead—shield.

The brown-haired vampire mouthed something. Not to me, but to Malachi, his smile tinged with pure malice.

One glance and I practically saw the bad blood flowing between them like a red, raging river, a mixture of fury and regret and shock seeping from Malachi. Who the fuck was this guy ?

In that instant, Malachi's glamour transformed. He took his shimmering power and turned it into weapons—a thousand shards of sharpened steel he sent hurtling through the air like a wall of pure death. Ravok—no, the other vampire—threw up a shield before them, dark and muted, some version of Malachi’s power, but corrupted and tainted.

The stranger was strong enough to halt that wall of piercing knives, Malachi’s illusion disintegrating to nothing.

Ravok raised his hand and dark, malevolent weapons of equal sharpness raced toward us, Blake shouting a warning as I fumbled with my magic, tried to make my fire obey, to do something .

Angel was here, Angel and Riordan and Blake and we would be shredded to pieces, torn apart ? —

Barely a few feet away, those knives halted mid-air, shivering in place, held at bay by an invisible force more effervescent than morning mist. Malachi’s face was a mask of concentration, raised hands shaking, but there was fierce satisfaction in his gaze when he turned Ravok's own weapons around, and hurled them right back at his Maker.

“We move… Now .” Riordan's command carried across the battlefield, and we charged as one, racing over the churned up, ruined ground, our magic whipping around us like a nightmarish storm. Every time my power brushed against Blake’s or Riordan’s, a fresh jolt rocketed through my body, like a surge of fresh adrenaline, until sweat tracked down my spine, my teeth were grit tight from the force.

My flames melded seamlessly with Riordan's white fire and Blake's obsidian power, creating a wall of pure night that formed a shield before us. I had no idea if we were strong enough to kill Ravok, but we grew closer, as Malachi kept him and the other vampire busy, trading blow after blow, trading knives for ice, ice for bolts of pure energy.

“Remember Kai, she is the key to your suffering, and you have much to answer for.” The hook-nosed vampire’s voice carried over the chaos. “She was meant for this purpose, her fate was sealed the day she was born.”

I didn’t think I’d ever seen such a look of hatred on anyone’s face as I did on Malachi’s before he said, “Her fate is not yet written, but yours…I will be the one to end you, Romulus. And my face will be the last one you see when you leave this realm.”

Ravok’s ancient face contorted with something that might have been frustration as he gave instructions to his remaining thralls. Aria was retreating, slipping behind Silas and Alistair, leaving her master to face us alone.

“You've grown stronger, little shadow,” Ravok called out, his voice carrying, like Romulus’s had. “But time is on my side.” His gaze swept across our lines, taking in Riordan's protective stance, Blake's deathly shadows power, Malachi's unwavering focus. “When I return—you’ll understand that those you love are only weapons I will use against you.”

“I’m going to end you,” I snarled, my fire rising higher around me, anxious to reach out and burn this monster to ash. “That’s a fucking promise.”

His laugh was soft, but those dark eyes guaranteed violence. “Until next time, then.” He stepped backward into a void edged with red and I realized Aria hadn’t been retreating…she’d been his exit strategy.

Silas seemed to send me a pleading look before he vanished, but that might have been my imagination.

The portal closed with a hiss, and when the stain of Ravok's presence faded, I let my shadows recede, feeling the bone-deep exhaustion that came with pushing my power to the limit. Maybe beyond the limit , as I swayed, my head swimming.

The Crimson House grounds were a mess of scorched black marks and ashed corpses—the only sign the thralls had even existed—everything covered in a thin layer of already-melting frost.

Riordan's hand found mine, his grip warm and solid and real among the hushed silence.

Then Blake was there, tipping my head back with gentle fingers, tracing over the tender spot where Ravok had crushed my throat. Angel and Bex burst from the house, followed by a furious Eldric. Nash and his guards searched the wreckage for any surviving thralls and I closed my eyes, sending up a silent thanks we’d all made it through unscathed.

But Malachi stood apart, hands clenched at his side, eyes staring at the empty place Ravok had occupied, his face a mask of frozen, terrible pain.

Still as a statue, as if he couldn’t reconcile himself to what just happened.

And another one of those confusing shudders went through me, another wall breaking down, another step closer to understanding the male who’d done so much damage…who was so damaged.

“Ravok will be back, and next time, he’ll bring more thralls,” Blake murmured, eyes filled with molten anger, staring at my raw, bruised throat. “Or he’ll find new ways to tear us apart.”

“Let him try.” Riordan’s voice was deadly soft. “Let him come and we will destroy him.”

“What if…” I couldn’t take my eyes of Malachi, off the raw wound shining from his eyes, some part of me wanting—needing—to understand what just happened between him and that vampire.

“What if we don’t wait? What if we destroy him first?”