I nod. With a snap of my fingers, time unfreezes and my shadows dissipate to reveal the scene awaiting us.
The Ringmaster stands on the other side of the tent with Mercy’s family. Their gasps fill the silent space as time settles. Malicor is with him, at his side like an obedient little stooge.
“What are you doing here?” I snarl, stepping protectively in front of Mercy as Sylis runs to my side, followed swiftly by Zora.
“I was coming to pay my respects to the deceased and see how you were doing,” he lies. “But I see that’s no longer necessary.”
“Then I’ll see you back at the house,” I reply sternly, a threat laced along the surface of my words.
“About that. I think we both know why it’s impossible,” he snarls, tapping his walking stick against the ground.
A crack forms between our side and his in the tent. Gradually it crumbles, growing in size as the earth begins to break apart and widen.
“Mother. No!” Mercy screams, bursting from behind me to leap across while it’s still a small enough cavern to clear.
But I don’t need to jump. I have fucking wings to carry me to the other side. They burst from the shadows, stretching wide across my back, filled with fury, feather, and bone as my shadows leap at him, shielding Mercy protectively as she sprints to her mother. For the second time tonight, I picture time obeying me, and it does, skidding to a complete halt, Only the Endless four are able to move. This frees me up to focus on Malicor and the Ringmaster without needing to protect our family and friends who were gathered. A protective shield separates us from them.Mercy pushes against it, and I push back harder in warning—not to fight me. She turns to leverage a glare, pressing a hand against it instead, mourning the space keeping her from reaching her mother.
The Ringmaster raises his walking stick again, but I’m stronger and faster. Reaching deep into my powers, I lash out with a tendril of darkness, snapping the stick in half. He’s cut off from his power amplifier. It doesn’t stop him from flicking his wrist to send a set of bleachers hurling right for my mate.
Chaos erupts. Once again, my shadows foil his attempt—blocking every move he makes. We battle like this back and forth a few times before he summons a sword to his side. Memories come back, washing over me as time slows long enough for me to process each one. This sword was used to slay me, trapping mein a rebirth cycle. My own blood—the ones who imprisoned me and stole my wife. Such unforgivable acts. Time moves forward, and the Ringmaster turns his focus on me.
I launch into the air, offensively barreling right for him. With a sharp inhale, I summon Soul Slayer from its sheath. It appears in my hands midair, gripped tightly, the blade aimed for his heart.
The Ringmaster is ancient and powerful, filled with the souls I’ve been ignorantly supplying him. He dodges my attack, sending me flying off course with a flick of his wrist.
I narrowly avoid crashing into the canvas of the tent, veering at the last second. Gritting my teeth, I regroup and draw more power from my core. Shadows whip out, wrapping around him, crushing him in their grasp. They swirl around like a twister, tightening and tightening as I bind him—sword drawn, ready to strike.
My wings beat furiously, carrying me through the air so he can meet his destruction. He swipes at me with the deadly blade, the metal hissing as if whispering a promise of destruction. He won’t be imprisoned in Hell. No—his actions have earned him annihilation, never to exist again. Not until the Fates deem him worthy of another chance.
He screeches in terror, stabbing at me again. Once more I dodge his advance. His glamour slips, finally succumbing to the force of my shadows as more of his life drains away.
Malicor realizes his master’s life is in danger and charges for Mercy. Rage erupts, rippling through the tent with a force strong enough to unravel the universe. It’s too late to change course. My sword plunges into the Ringmaster just as I beat my wings hard to turn toward her. I’m not fast enough. The tip of my blade pierces his shoulder, missing his heart by inches, but slicing deep enough to cripple him. One more blow, and he’s done for.
I’ll take care of him later. Mercy is my focus now. If Malicor harms her—my roar tears through the tent as my shadows release the Ringmaster and surge to protect her.
Chapter 45
Mercy
The ground quivers beneath me, the air sizzling with magical electricity in the wake of my roar. But no matter how much I want to turn and look at him, I can’t.
The hideous creature who captured me last time I snuck into the circus lunges for me. Hissing and feral, I sense his true intentions are to harm me. If it’s a victim he wants, he’s not going to find that with me. I was given a task: take a life in exchange for my own. He’s tried to harm me twice. It seems the universe is giving me the perfect opportunity to secure my safety and to fulfill the debt I owe. I grip the metal daggers tightly in my palms, positioning them both at my sides so the moment he leaps I can bring them up, slicing into him.
I stand my ground, ready to defend myself, vowing to never allow anyone to harm me or Azrael again. The vile creature makes a final leap closer; talons replace its hands as it shifts midair. My magic tingles, rising in defense, and the runes of mydaggers send a second pulsating wave of power rippling through me. It wraps around my hands like the soft shadows of—I gasp—Azrael has imbued the daggers with his own magic. The familiar hum zings, filling me with his strength and love. My arms flail up and out, the timing impeccable as the creature’s face shifts, unsuspectingly, in horror.
His face contorts in pain and it screams as the blades slice through its flesh with no resistance. One cuts into its chest, the second clean through its neck. Warm liquid goo leaks out. It smells putrid. I gag, heaving fighting the urge to be sick. Looking down at my hands, I notice the liquid is black and thick instead of crimson blood. But then I can’t think about it anymore, because our collision sends me careening backwards. I fall toward the ground—but there’s no impact. I should’ve hit solid ground.
When I don’t, I look over my shoulder at where it should be and scream. A blood-curdling, terrified shriek so loud I can hear the beating wings of the birds in the forest springing from the branches and flying off into the distance. Or maybe it’s Azrael. He’s already racing for me, wings a blur of black behind him, defying all rules of existence. He’s remarkable as he surges forward after me, his face chiseled into a dreamy expression of intense concentration. Our eyes lock before the endless black pit sucks us in deeper, pulling me too far from Azrael’s reach.
Panicking, I yank on the daggers and roll myself out from beneath the rapidly decaying corpse. I spin free from his weight, but now I’m watching as he continues to disappear, tumbling faster than I am into the never-ending cavernous pit. Soon the darkness swallows him, and he becomes nothing.
My arms spread wide, flailing, hoping my daggers will find purchase against a wall of earth—something, anything—to stop me from falling to my second death.
After a few failed seconds, I realize there’s nothing but an empty universe for them to dig into and formulate a new plan. Azrael has wings; maybe I do too. Closing my eyes, I try to imagine flying, beating with wings to steady myself, but nothing happens. Exasperated, I picture myself growing wings, but still—nothing.
The only other solution I can think of is to freeze time, but that wouldn’t actually stop me from falling. Sensing my desperation, magic thrums in my fingers. Then I hear Azrael. The beating of his wings fills my ears. His strong, calloused hands grab hold of me roughly, curling my body against his as he wraps himself around me protectively. Azrael secures me within his thick, shadowy wings. They envelope us, instead of carrying us far from danger. I wrap my arms around his neck and brush against them. He stiffens—almost uncomfortably at the touch.
The feathers are like silk, the shadows are cold to the touch, and the bones gleam as white as the glowing moon in a sky full of darkness. We’re still falling as I take one breath after another, inhaling his familiar scent: smoke, darkness, and the lingering aroma of emberleaf.
