Page 53 of Fated In Ruin
“Steady.” Malachi’s hand brushed across mine. “Your magic will rise again once we’re across. My guess is, this used to be the church’s graveyard, and your power is simply reacting to all the souls buried beneath our feet.”
Was he fucking serious? “Why would they react to me?” I froze in place as realization hit me.
Necromancy.
Raising the dead.Oh, fuck.
Malachi slid me a half smile. “That takes intent, Vicious, something that you don’t yet have the skill for. Focus on getting across, and I’ll get you close.”
“And then what?” I hissed out of the side of my mouth, treading carefully, because I sure as shit didn’t want a bunch of skeletons exploding from the dirt.
“Then you wait for my word,” Malachi murmured, as calm as if we were going for a stroll around his garden. “You can do this, and everything is going to turn out okay.”
The twin metal doors of the compound swung open before we reached them. A chill slithered down my spine as the flickering fluorescent lights illuminated two figures waiting for us just inside.
Silas and Alistair, Dante nowhere in sight. My father and my uncle—once powerful, once proud—now reduced to something unholy.
Somethingwrong.
Silas tilted his head, a sliver of drool forming at the corner of his sagging mouth. “Evangeline. You are right on time.” His skin, once golden and warm, was ashen, stretched too thin over his bones. His eyes—God, his eyes—were black pits, empty but for the faintest flicker of red that made my stomach twist.
Alistair's expression remained cold, that same red flecked gaze coolly assessing me, “Down to the second, just like the Master said. He said you couldn’t stay away, that you’d come back to end him before he regained his full strength.”
The hair on the back of my neck stood up, both from their deferential, almost reverent tones, and from the fact Ravok knew our arrival time, down to the minute.But did he? Or was this just another ploy to keep his reputation intact?
I swallowed hard, stepping forward, “What has hedoneto you?” I whispered.
Alistair chuckled; the sound hollow. “He has freed us.”
“No,” I retorted, my pulse pounding. “Heenslavedyou. And the men I knew would never have allowed this.” We were close enough to see their damaged throats, the way the skin had barely knit back together, as if they’d been mauled by a wild animal.
Malachi moved closer, his stance ready for battle, my magic coiling around me instinctively. The air was thick with the scent of decay, like something foul was rotting beneath the surface of this place.
“You can’t help them, Vicious, they are too far gone.” His tone was soft, his hand brushing over mine once more, but his eyes…they were flint, glittering with hate as he focused on my father and uncle. “Best not to think of them as human anymore.”
Darkness billowed within me, responding to the threat, but as I prepared to unleash my shadows, Ravok’s voice rang out from the depths of the compound, rich with amusement.
“Come, Evangeline. Join us, be my queen.”
Silas tilted his head, watching me with an almost curious expression. “You should obey. Ravok has shown us the truth. There is no need to fight anymore. There is only obedience now. Onlypurpose.”
I clenched my fists, trying to control the icy dread slithering down my spine. My father—Silas Silverwood—had been an evil tyrant, a cruel, brutal man, but he had beenalive. Now, he was something else. Something dead but still moving. Somethingowned.
I was going to vomit.
Silas stepped closer and beside me, Malachi tensed, one hand wrapping around my waist, about to yank me away. “Evangeline, you should kneel for the Master. It’s easier that way.”
“Never.”
For the first time, something flickered behind his expression—a crack in the mask. His jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his sides. Beneath his stained shirt, something glowed softly through the material, and then, so softly I almost missed it, his cracked lips parted.
“Help me.” My breath caught in my throat, horror rolling through me in sick waves.
He blinked rapidly, his sunken body shuddering. Clawlike hands clenched into desperate fists, his muscles straining as if he was fighting some unseen power. For one awful, heart-wrenching moment, I sawhimagain.
The real Silas. The real monster. My father.
“Please,” he rasped, barely above a whisper. “The pain is unbearable. Kill me. Please.Please.”
