Page 53

52

MALACHI

T he ruins emerged from the layer of mist like hulking sentinels merging from craggy outcropping. The castle was still hauntingly lonely, having managed to hang onto the side of the mountain despite all these centuries of neglect.

A rusted iron fence surrounded the property, posted with weathered warning signs in French. The decaying metal was partially collapsed in places, barely visible beneath tangles of thorny brambles and wild roses that seem unnaturally robust and dark-leaved.

Nothing like the ones I’d left for Evangeline. Not even close .

Resolve hardened my spine, chasing away any lingering doubts.

The castle's most distinctive feature was its central keep, a partially intact hexagonal tower rising five stories. The upper floors had long since collapsed, but the lower three remained sound, their thick walls defying the passage of time, punctuated with arrow slits and narrow windows, like watchful eyes.

Crouched on a flat surface of gray, lichen covered granite, I drew a breath of the rain-soaked air, thick and heavy and cool, at this altitude.

Ravok was here, deep beneath those tumbled stones. Romulus was inside as well, guarded by a handful of lesser presences. Thralls, perhaps Dante and Alistair Silverwood, or what was left of them.

This castle had once belonged to a pompous, foolish High Lord, long since dead, but his secrets were about to spawn a monster our world was not prepared for.

What truly made Chateau des Ombres unique was the labyrinthine underground, an extensive natural cave system that had been expanded over centuries. Some passages allegedly descending so deep they reached the underworld itself.

The main entrance lay in the castle's former great hall—a stone staircase spiraling down two hundred feet deep. The first level contained traditional dungeon cells, but deeper levels hid chambers guarded by strange carvings, natural caverns with underground pools of steaming, poisonous water, and traps ready to devour the weak and unsuspecting.

I closed my eyes and probed the bond between Ravok and myself, that hideous tether I would have severed with a spelled silver athame, if I thought that would have freed me. My Maker was deep inside the mountain, deep enough I’d have to fight my way to him, deep enough I couldn’t dematerialize inside, for fear of reforming inside a wall of solid granite.

I didn’t know how long I’d survive something like that, but I had no desire to endure that kind of horror, or that kind of pain.

I’d been here once before, a guest of Lord Aurelius de Noct.

That craven bastard had been the model upon which every vampire nightmare was founded, with alabaster skin stretched taut over sharp cheekbones, eyes that shifted between obsidian black and blood crimson depending on his hunger, and long spiderlike fingers; his very presence was cultivated to inspire terror.

In reality, he was a weak, tiresome male, adorning himself in the finest Byzantine silks beneath Renaissance velvet cloaks, even crowning himself a king of sorts, with a circlet of blackened silver set with garnets dark as coagulated blood—his vanity demanding he appear as nothing less than the immortal royalty he believed himself to be.

But he’d built a castle that had survived a millennia, ruling the surrounding regions through calculated brutality and supernatural terror, collecting the most beautiful mortals, whose minds he would break, establishing bloodlines of thralls, and maintaining a greedy, ruthless court who competed viciously for his favor.

With the layout fixed in my mind, I dematerialized closer, landing on the slippery, broken shale just below the castle. Romulus would know I was here, he’d be making preparations, with his limited resources and the passages were a tangle of hand-hewn disorienting tunnels that shifted and changed at will, trapping the unsuspecting.

If Dante and Alistair were in the same shape as Silas, I doubted they’d offer much resistance, but knowing Rom, he had something up his sleeve. A hideous surprise I would never expect, forces lying in wait to swarm me, some wicked trap, ready to spring.

I rubbed my temples, forcing my magic to cooperate, to show me some glimpse of the future.

Anything. I’ll take anything right now.

A flash of light and Evie’s face appeared, her blue eyes wide with terror, mouth open in a silent scream as she flew toward me. I could barely catch my breath, terror racing through my veins, fear spiraling out of control as she grabbed onto me with bloodstained hands. I reached out to catch her, but there was nothing but a wisp of shadow.

The vision ended, leaving me with a fractured heart and aching lungs that didn’t work properly.

I hadn’t had one of these in…years. And Evie had been terrified, bloody…why the fuck had she been covered in blood?

I scrubbed my face, pushing the fear away. This was nothing but guilt, rising to the surface. Nothing but all my regrets coming back to haunt me. Not a harbinger of the future.

Evangeline was safe in Crimson House, protected by the king and her mate, destined to live a long, full, happy life. The life she deserved, after everything she’d endured.

I’d done what I could, in the little time I had before leaving. The roses, the note, my heart, poured out, only a fraction of the promises I’d wanted to make—the words she deserved to hear. Evangeline might never forgive me for leaving, but I’d do this all over again, to save her from Ravok.

I forced myself to focus, to put the past behind me.

Killing Ravok was all that mattered, and if I spent my life to accomplish that, then so be it. I’d sworn an oath to Evangeline at the beginning of this. To leave, once he was dead. So no matter how he died—and he must die to keep her safe—I would lose her in the end.

Better I lose Evangeline on my terms, than have her taken from me.

I prodded at the shale, testing the shimmer of residual magic around me.

This place was as unnatural as I remembered.

For an ancient Elder seeking seclusion, the chateau offered perfect sanctuary. The remote location, dark, hidden tunnels, and legal restrictions keep visitors at bay. Everything Romulus would need to protect his master.

But there was a hidden secret the castle's dark history did not mention. One I hoped Romulus—and Ravok—had not yet discovered.

Lord Aurelius, being an incessant braggart, had once led me deep beneath the castle, to a circular room where an intersection of hand-hewn corridors created a liminal space, a threshold between worlds where two realms collided. The center of the room was consumed by a hollow, pulsing blackness, like a doorway to another realm.

Standing inside that room had been like enduring a collapsing black hole, pounding energy tearing at my face, ripping apart my very soul, as if unseen forces were desperate to tear me to pieces.

Lord de Noct had laughed as the strange magic dragged me forward, step by hesitant step, urging me toward whatever dark realm lay behind that tattered veil.

The Underworld , Lord de Noc had speculated, on that long-ago night, but whatever realm that was, I’d resisted the call to cross over, even though it took every bit of my resolve. I still had nightmares about that night, about the voices murmuring inside my head, about the tug I’d felt inside my chest, like I was being called home.

And this time…this time I would not resist.

This time, I would drag my enemies with me, to whatever hell lay behind that veil, and we could all burn together.