“Ready?” Skar whispers in my ear, grabbing tight to my arm. His rough touch is a caress to me.
I nod firmly, sniffling to keep tears back while my eyes remain on Lukain’s clenched face.
Skar and I turn to look out the window.
“Seph,” Lukain says.
My head whips up faster than I’d like to admit.
“Ask Skartovius where he got that silver sword.”
Skar growls, holds me, and steps into my shadow—
Bringing me falling backward with him into a world of darkness.
Chapter 57
I plummet through the blackness for what feels like eons, arms and legs akimbo, floundering, screaming into a void. I close my eyes at some point as wind whistles past me through a tunnel of darkness, awaiting the inevitable end.
When I open them, I’m in Skartovius’ arms, held in a bridal carry. Wherever we are is dark and foreboding, with a few torches alight on the walls. Skar brings me out of a shadow, his face suddenly illuminated.
It’s a giant, man-shaped shadow cast from the torches on the wall. Rough masonry and stone litters the floor, a wall blown apart behind us, allowing entry into this space.
“There’s my little temptress,” Skar says. He dips down to seal a molten kiss to my lips.
Tears trickle out of my eyes as he sets me down on wobbly legs. I notice how slack and pale his face is, and he stumbles when he takes a step forward.
Vallan Stellos is there to balance him with a sturdy hand on his shoulder, moving away from the torch and broken wall where he’d been standing.
Skar explains himself, putting his palm to his forehead. “Haven’t shadowwalked that far before. Using your shadow, Sephania, is the only reason I think I was able to.”
I gawk. “You mean you just catapulted us ten stories down . . . on hope and a prayer?”
“Vampires don’t pray.” He gives me a sickly smile. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“Good thing the torch gave me a shadow for you to work with, eh, brother?” Vallan quips.
My eyes move from Skar to Vallan, my bearded, giant menace. I lunge at him with a tearful smile, wrapping my arms around his broad chest. He grunts as I fall into his bulky arms, head against his beard. “You fucking oak tree,” I mumble. “Nice work with the firebombing.”
He lifts my chin and kisses me, pulling back only after I’ve licked his tongue. “You fucking hellion. Three months we waited for that? I pray you got the answers you were seeking, silverblood.”
“I thought vampires don’t pray.”
He rolls his eyes. Over his shoulder, Garroway Kuffich groans and wanders over. He looks just as bad as Skar, just as pale. And Vallan, for his part, is covered in blood and gore. I hadn’t noticed at first.
“Truehearts fuck me, you all look worse than I do,” I say.
Garroway snorts and tackles me in a hug. We kiss, solidifying my connection with these three rotten bastards, and he wipes my trailing tear off my cheek. “Missed you, little honey badger.”
“The moth worked,” I murmur, not sure what else to say past the damned wedge in my throat.
“I was hoping you might notice that.” He shoots me one of his disarming smiles, though I can tell he’s minutes away from passing out from exhaustion.
Whatever these three have been through over the past months to find me . . . it’s a tale I want to hear.
“You told me to trust you, and I did,” Skar says. He’s starting to recover already, pale face gaining some color. He is a vampire, after all.
Garro says, “Yes, yes, we all trust each other. Now can we hurry up so we can get thefuckout of here?”
