by Bailey Dark
"How can I trust you?" She presses the dagger in a little deeper, and I wince.
The blade feels too cold for a natural dagger and I narrow my eyes suspiciously. “What is this?”
“The only weapon that can hurt you,” she says, a tear streaming down her cheek.
“From your mother?” I feel hope spark in my chest.
“Yes.” Briar’s voice wavers. “How did you know?”
“A lucky guess.” I shrug. It’s true. Briar’s mother knew what powers her daughter would have. “Please, Briar, I swear, I mean you no harm.”
Briar’s breath hitches in her throat. “But I -,”
I lean forward, careful, twist my body so the blade passes harmlessly through the air. My lips are on hers before she can react. Briar is stiff, fear and guilt coursing through her like a drug. I breathe in her fear, tasting its sweetness. The dagger clatters to the wet cobblestones and Briar's hands clutch at my tunic. Her lips soften, welcoming the kiss. I feel a rush of her power again, like a well opening. It teases my darkness as our tongues tangle. She moans against my lips, and I slip my arms around her slim waist.
Her magic is a harp, the gentle music battling against the bass of my deep cruelty. It swirls together, tantalizing until our very souls are on fire together. I open my eyes, drinking her in. She glows from the inside out, the thin beams of light streaming from her lashes and every pore. She can’t see it. She doesn’t even know it yet. But she will be my savior, in more ways than one.
Chapter 16
Briar
Kane's lips are on mine, and my soul is on fire. It's him, and I, and magic, and nothing else could possibly exist in this moment. My fingers go slack, and my dagger clatters to the ground, but the sound hardly registers. There's harp music in my ears, and despite Kane's cold body, my skin is impossibly warm. I clutch at him, wrapping my arms around his chiseled waist and gripping the back of his thin jacket. He leans into me, and I sigh at the comfortable weight of his body on mine. We meld together, him and I, like two pieces of the same puzzle.
Stop, a warning voice in my mind whispers. Stop before you get hurt. Kill him. But then Kane's tongue pries my lips apart, and an explosive ache grows inside of me. The voice is obliterated by his kisses, and I suck on his bottom lip greedily. He groans and I feel a flash of another ache, equal to my own but not quite the same. But it's desire, as hungry and desperate as mine. His hands are propped on the brick wall beside my head, and he bends low over me. I reach up on my tiptoes, clinging tightly to him for balance.
My blood thrums, humming with energy and something I’ve never quite felt before. Power. Power beyond measure. I gasp sharply as his lips brush over my earlobe, and pleasure erupts inside me. His magic must be affecting me, I think vaguely, slipping back into the heat of his kisses. He kisses me like I’m the one he wants – the one he’s always wanted. I know it isn’t true, but not even that knowledge can stop me from falling into his endless gravity. Him, him, him.
Kane pushes me back against the wall and hoists me into his arms. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist and blush as I feel his hardness. He laps at my neck, and my thoughts flash to the blood he suckled off his finger earlier. A thrill of danger sweeps through me, and I search blindly for his lips. He breathes me in like a drowning man when he takes his first gulp of air. The pleasure and desire are a rush. His body is hard and muscular, lean where mine is soft. I think of the night of the ball when his tunic was unbuttoned to expose his chest and wish I could see it again.
“Patience,” Kane whispers, teeth grazing my bottom lip.
I shudder as goosebumps pock all over my body and my core throbs. Gods, he sounds like he might eat me alive. And I like it. “Kane,” I mewl, fingers tangling through his soft, black hair.
“It was always you, Briar,” Kane growls, his voice vibrating through my body. I hold him tighter, not daring to open my eyes. “It was never about Rose, it was about you.”
My sister's name shatters the cocoon around us, and I suddenly feel the night breeze and smell the stink of the streets again. My eyes flutter open, and I find Kane staring evenly at me. I run my tongue over my swollen lips, tasting him. "Are you a liar, Death?"
Kane grins devilishly, his teeth glinting in the low light. “Only when I must.”
My body burns with heat, and I feel his fingers playing against the waistband of my trousers. "Must you lie now?" I ask. My voice is barely a whisper.
"Not to you," Kane murmurs, bending closer. He presses his lips to the nape of my neck, and I feel his fangs prick my skin. I shudder, enjoying the tingle of pain and pleasure. "Not to you."
“I could be the death of you,” I breathe, eyes wide as I fall prey to my own guilt.
Kane merely chuckles and hoists me a little higher. "Oh, really?" He grins, and I see a flash of the sadistic God mortals imagine him to be. It makes my heart race. "From you, I would welcome it."
I smile weakly as Kane sets me back down on the ground gently. His hands linger at my waist and I feel another spark of longing. I see a glint of light refract from my blade as one of Kane’s shadows offers it to me. I freeze as the shadow points the blade towards my heart at a flick of Kane’s gaze. He grins wickedly before the dark power he commands rests it gently in my palm.
“We found it.” Willem’s sharp voice rings out from the darkness.
I whirl towards him, heart pounding guiltily. The Reaper melts out of the shadows, an arm around Aiden. I gasp when I spot blood staining Aiden's shirt. Kane's nostrils flare, and he narrows his eyes. "What happened?"
“He’s strong,” Willem says, stopping beside us. “Stronger than we thought.”
“Sliced me up like a ham.” Aiden grins weakly.
“Can you heal him?” Willem asks, crouching to help Aiden onto the ground. “It’s too far to get him to the Diamond, and any magical travel may make it worse.”
Kane presses his lips together tightly and exhales. “It may be too much for my skills. I would cause him more pain.”
"It's alright," Aiden sighs, wincing. "Just bandage me up, and I'll heal in a couple of days."
“Here.” Kane shirks his jacket and then strips off his shirt. I stare dumbly at his chiseled chest and abdomen. In the darkness, the shadows cut even deeper. Kane pulls me from reverie as he tosses the shirt towards Aiden.
Aiden catches it deftly and waves it at me. “Be my nurse, Briar.”
His eyes twinkle playfully, but I see the dark warning hidden there. Fingers clenched, I kneel in the dirty street beside him. His shirt is stuck to his torso, blood gluing it there. I lift it slowly, exposing the wound. His stomach above his belly button has been shredded by what looks like claws. Blood gushes from it when I expose it. The white, fleshy bits of the laceration tremble with each breath he takes. I bite back a gag.
“Do Nephilim have claws?” I ask, tearing Kane’s shirt into strips of fabric.
"Not so much claws, as sharp nails," Kane says. He eyes Aiden's belly. "Why?'
“Hurry, Briar,” Aiden says, twisting. “I wouldn’t want to die from blood loss.”
“Stop moving,” I mutter, resting the makeshift bandages across my legs.
Aiden is still as I begin to wrap the wounds. He hisses sharply when I pull them tight and fasten them. By the time I finish the last wrapping, blood has already begun to seep through the rest. I tie the last one, tugging on the knot to secure it, and Aiden curses under his breath.
“By the Night, woman,” he snaps. “I thought women were supposed to be gentle.”
“Women can be whatever they please,” I say coolly, rising and brushing off my pants.
Aiden shakes his head and prods at the bandages. “If my guts come spilling out of me, it’s your fault.”
“And then I can boast I killed a Minor God,” I say, smiling teasingly.
Kane barks out a laugh, tossing his head back. Aiden glowers at Kane and me, lips pursed viciously. "I thought we were friends, Briar," he says, feigning injury. "I thought I
could trust you."
“We are,” I say quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m simply teasing. The bandages will be fine.”
“Relax,” Kane says as he studies his brother evenly. He turns to Willem. “So, you lost him after the attack?”
"No, we found his hideout." Willem grins wickedly, and I see his black nails have already stretched to lethal claws.
Kane returns the vicious grin. “Then let’s go hunting.”
“What about me?” Aiden sputters.
“You’ll stay with Briar and go back to the Diamond,” Kane says firmly.
I gape at him. “You’re going without me?” I ask. Aiden huffs. “Without us?”
“You’re a mortal, and he’s injured,” Kane says, shrugging. “You’re liabilities.”
“Weak,” Willem chimes in.
“I can help. You know I can fight, and I can distract him,” I protest, ignoring Willem’s cruel tone.
Kane shakes his head. I won’t let anything happen to her, a voice in my head murmurs. “It’s not something I’m willing to risk,” Kane says. “Take Aiden back to the inn, we’ll be back before dawn.”
“And what if you’re not?” Aiden asks.
“Then come looking for us, fool,” Willem says, grinning.
Aiden rolls his eyes and waves them away. "By the Night, Reapers are the most obnoxious creatures."
"We'll be back soon," Kane assures me. Our eyes lock for an instant, and I feel a wave of longing, like an ache just inside my ribs.
Before I can answer, Kane and Willem are gone, racing down the streets into the darkness. They melt into the shadows, and I hear the soft whoop of a gleeful Kane. I stare after them, hoping to catch another glimpse. But I know they're gone. My heart starts to race when I think of Kane facing off against the Nephilim. If it could almost kill a Minor God, could it hurt Kane? My throat is tight at the thought, and I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood. I don't want anything to happen to him.
Suddenly, Aiden breaks the silence with a dark chuckle. "Look at you," he murmurs. My gaze darts towards him. He smiles, cruelly. "You look so concerned for his welfare, it's as if you aren't even trying to kill him."
“It’s complicated,” I say. But he’s right. I’m a hypocrite.
“Go after him,” Aiden suggests, hoisting himself to his feet.
My jaw goes slack. “You were lying.”
“I wasn’t lying,” he says, brows furrowed with offense. “I am hurt. Just not as much as I let on.”
“You could have helped him,” I say, pointing into the shadows.
“And lessen the likelihood of him dying?” Aiden snorts. “Follow him, kill during the battle, and no one will be the wiser.”
"I -" I start, surprise flushing through me.
“You-you can’t,” Aiden says mockingly. He sobers and flashes me a daring grin. “Do it. You know it’s the perfect opportunity.”
I bite my lip, wincing in pain. Gods, he's right. Aiden gives me directions to the Nephilim's hiding place, grinning all the while. I slink into the darkness, guilt weighing heavily on my chest. What I felt when we kissed was not a lie. What I feel when our eyes meet is not a lie. A single tear slips down my cheek. Behind me, Aiden falls out of sight as I take winding turns through Verstad's quiet streets.
The truth doesn’t matter anymore. Only death.
Chapter 17
Kane
Willem and I creep towards the enormous, abandoned opera house in the middle of the city. Long, wide columns grace the facade of the building, and once they might have been painted with gold foil. Now, the wood is peeling from the base, splintering along the surfaces. Empty picture frames hang lopsidedly on either side of the massive, boarded doors. For a moment, I see a flashback to a happier, more affluent time. The opera house would have once been bustling with finely dressed people from all walks of life, climbing the grand staircase to the decadent doors. Music fills the air, filtering from the opera house, and even the streets glow brighter from the lamps hanging on the columns.
But the memory is shattered by a hooting owl. I blink, and the opera house is nothing more than an empty building doomed to rot. “We saw him flee inside,” Willem whispers, crouching beside me.
I peer at the doors, the boards look secure from here, but perhaps we can push them aside without alerting the Nephilim to our arrival. “Is there another way in?”
“I’ll find one.” Willem slips away, revealing his wings for the first time since we entered the mortal realm. I can see the relief in subtle relaxation of his shoulders. Willem launches himself into the air, his wings beating like a whisper in the night.
Willem disappears over the apex of the opera house roof as I slip out into the street. Keeping to the shadows, I make my way up the opera house stairs. Leaves crunch under my feet and an ominous wind buffets my back. A shiver crawls up my spine. I creep along the walls, eyes lingering on the massive spiderwebs covering every unexposed surface. I pause at the door, peeking through the wooden slats for any sign of the Nephilim inside. My eyes pierce through the darkness easily as I scan the lounge. The room is grand, with a ticket booth to the right and a rotted seating area on the left. A staircase overpowers the room, massive and decorated with elaborate railings. A chandelier hangs directly overhead on a thin chain. I purse my lips at the sight of it, it’s a wonder it hasn’t collapsed yet.
Deeper in the depths of the opera house, I see the faint glow of light. I grin. The Nephilim is here. Quietly, I tug on the nearest board, testing its strength. To my surprise, the board is already loose, propped up on the one below but with no real attachment to the doorframe of the opera house. I place the board to the side, moving slowly and gently to avoid making any unnecessary noise. More boards reveal themselves to be loose, and they join the first in a careful pile on the ground.
Cold air seeps out from the opera house, carrying the foul stench of rotting furniture and rat feces. I hunch my shoulders and lift a leg over the lower boards to fit between the ones that are still nailed in tightly. The crunch of glass echoes through the lounge, and I curse silently to myself. Glass glitters on the floor at my feet, sprinkled across the entrance like a primitive alarm system. I flick my wrist and scatter the remaining pieces of glass, clearing the floor for my other foot. Once inside, I brush off cobwebs that I brushed against, tossing a spindly spider onto the floor carelessly.
I glance up at the chandelier on the ceiling. Spiders have enveloped it in webs until it looks more like a massive, deadly cocoon than a chandelier. Careful not to trigger any more alarms, I slip through the entrance towards the light emanating from the doors into the theatre. Rats chitter in the distance, and I hear faint scratching. The door to the theatre is propped open with a loose stone as if someone is waiting for me. I narrow my eyes at it, a sense of foreboding welling in my chest. Something about this isn't right. I hesitate at the door, the light beckoning me. Perhaps I should wait for Willem. But he might already be inside, perhaps backstage or in the balconies.
My nails elongate and sharpen into deadly claws, and I let my fangs descend. If anything, they'll give me extra defenses against the Nephilim. The creature will undoubtedly be stronger now that it's fed on so many souls. Perhaps even as strong as me, until its wealth of souls depletes. I loose a long breath, letting my shoulders relax, and slip inside the theatre. The light comes from the small lamps lining the aisles, showing the audience the way, and from a series of candelabras on the stage.
And in the center of it all, sits the Nephilim.
He's tall and wiry, but I don't question his strength. His white-blonde hair hangs limply over his forehead. He stares at me with wild, red eyes. From this distance, he looks so gaunt, he resembles a skeleton with evil glowing from its empty sockets. I stride down the aisle, hands swinging casually at my sides. He watches me greedily, a smile exposing his large teeth. I don't summon my magic yet even though my instincts are telling me it would be a very good idea. The Nephilim would sense it, and he would be more guarded. I
want him as defenseless as possible for as long as possible.
“You finally made it,” he says. His voice cracks, as if from disuse.
“You must be the Master,” I say, stopping at the bottom of the aisle, a few yards from the stage. “Did you prepare all this for me? I’m flattered.”
“I’m so pleased to hear it,” the Nephilim rasps. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
I gesture at our surroundings, to the carefully placed candelabras on stage. “I should apologize, I only discovered your existence a few weeks ago.”
The Nephilim's smile falters, and I see a flash of anger in his eyes. "No matter," he says, leaping off the stage. "You know now. And you'll see soon enough."
“See what?” I cock a brow. “I only see a crazed Nephilim in a rotting opera house. Trapped. Cornered. Despised.”
He waves his hands. “This is what you were trying to prevent all along. I’m stronger than you, Kane. All Nephilims could be if we were free to be as nature intended.”
"Yet they aren't. What a pity," I say, coldly.
"They will be." The Nephilim starts towards me, his hands balled into fists. Wings unfurl from his back, and I hide my surprise behind a look of boredom. Nephilim don't have wings. "By leeching human souls, I've made myself more powerful than you. I control death now, not you or your Reapers. Death," the Nephilim pauses, a grin stretching his lips too wide, "is me."
I summon my magic, and it fills me in an instant with dark power. Without hesitation, I launch it towards the Nephilim, picturing a violent and vicious end. The floorboards beneath my feet grow hot from an invisible, intangible fire. It singes the chairs around me and melts the lamps. The Nephilim dodges and with a beat of his wings is high above my burst of magic. He swoops over the chairs and angles himself towards me. I brace for the impact, claws at the ready.
With a manic grin, the Nephilim twists in mid-air, plummeting feetfirst towards me. His heels strike me squarely in the chest, and I reel backward against the stage. My breath escapes me, and I hear the audible crack of my ribs breaking over my heart. Eyes wide, I feel a seed of fear blossom into something more. I can’t breathe, and every move sends pain lancing through my body. My claws dig into the wood of the stage as I try to catch my breath. The Nephilim laughs, tossing his head back. I glance towards the ceiling and around the theatre, hoping to catch a glimpse of Willem in the shadows. But the theatre is empty except for the Nephilim and me.