Page 96 of Fated In Ruin
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 dosomething.
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…whowasso 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?”
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