Layla scowled, her eyes hard and dangerous, and I realized I had gone too far. I couldn’t help myself.
There was a soft pop of displaced air. Layla straightened, her face shifting into a terrifying smile. And when she looked at me, her eyes were as black as oil.
“Oh, shit,” I breathed.
6
“ U h—Rowyn,” cautioned Tyrius as he took a step back. “I don’t remember your eyes turning black. Did your eyes turn black?”
“No,” I answered feeling a thread of fear in my voice. This was something new. Layla’s pale face was drawn into something ugly. She even looked different, twisted somehow like she was wearing a mask of her own face. The depths of her black eyes were total and absolute, laced with a manic desire to kill. Seeing the emotion on her was terrifying.
Dear souls. What had Lucian done to her?
“You’ll pay for that,” said Layla, but her voice was off, sounding more like two voices speaking as one, but neither of them hers.
She was bathed in a black haze—that was new—with a black ball of death in her hand. Darkness dripped from it like blood as it trickled to the floor.
Holy hell.
“I’m sorry, Layla. I didn’t mean—”
A tendril of darkness hit me, flinging me across the room like a rag doll. I hit a wall, my breath escaping me as I slid sideways to the floor. Ow. That. Hurt. I think my ribs are broken. I couldn’t breathe. Worse was the searing pain I felt as my skin burned. The scent of burnt flesh rose in my nose. I howled as the arc of darkness jumped inside and then out my body, burning the whole way.
“Layla! Stop!” I heard Tyrius shout. “That’s Rowyn. Your sister!”
I heard the scraping of her high-heeled boots coming closer before I saw her. With my head and ribs throbbing in pain, I pushed myself up on my knees. Every breath sent a wave of nausea through me. God, it hurt.
I opened my eyes to find Layla standing resolute, her fingers wreathed in blackness and her smile promising more pain, an echo of her dark power.
If I had any doubts whether Layla had accepted the gift before, I didn’t anymore.
I caught a glimpse of Lucian behind her, beaming like a proud father whose baby had taken her first steps. This was so twisted.
Layla was staring at her hands and arms in amazement as more power than she knew existed spun through her. It wasn’t that supernatural or celestial power was wrong. The problem was only in how you used it, as Gareth put it. But this was dark, archdemon power. It was inherently wrong, and it was only us fooling ourselves that some of it was good because all of it was bad.
I blinked up at her, feeling some of the pain subsiding as my body healed, thanks to my angel essence and super-duper healing abilities.
“I’ve changed my mind. Maybe I will hurt you… just a little,” I croaked, my hand going for my soul blade. I wasn’t about to let her kill me.
“You lied to me!” Layla screamed, her eyes glowing black. “This power, this gift… it’s everything. It’s not evil. This feels wonderful. Natural. Like it was always meant for me. It’s not evil… it’s beautiful. You didn’t want me to have it! You wanted this gift for yourself!” She flung out her hands.
I knew that move. I’d seen Ethan use it enough times. Hell, even I used it.
I lurched myself to the side—
A cry escaped my throat as I was lifted again and the side of my head slammed the wall again. I heard something snap. My skull? The world tilted, and I hit the cold concrete floor. My breath went in and out, my lungs on fire.
“It’s mine now! You can’t have it! Never!” she shrilled.
“Layla! Stop! That’s Rowyn! You’re hurting Rowyn!” I heard Danto cry hoarsely along with the sharp slap of his feet smacking the concrete floor.
Damn. He was going to do something stupid.
Panic pulled me to my feet and I picked myself up off the floor. My head pounded, but I could still fight. She hadn’t hit me that hard or she hadn’t mastered the darkness just yet. I was hoping for the former. My heart thudded and I cringed when I remembered the ugliness of what I’d felt and the scorched bodies of the fae I’d killed with this darkness. She was going to barbecue the vampire’s ass if I didn’t reach her in time.
“Layla. Don’t do this,” Danto pleaded, looking disheveled as he stared at his lover but saw someone else. Poor guy. I didn’t think she knew who he was anymore, and I was pretty sure he could see that but just couldn’t accept it.
“The power is mine,” she shrieked, the blackness in her hands flickering.
I wobbled forward like a drunk. “That’s great. I don’t want it. You might be my half-sister, but there’s no rule that says I can’t kick your ass.” My head throbbed, and my focus was blurry. It wouldn’t be so easy.
For an instant, our eyes locked, her black eyes searching mine.
“Fight it,” I shouted because I didn’t know what else to do. “Fight it, you stupid child! You’re stronger than this. You can’t give up,” I argued, my heart thundering in my chest. “You have to fight. Fight damn it!”
Layla’s smile was utterly serpentine. “Okay. I’ll fight.” She flung her hand at me.
“Rowyn! Duck!” shouted Tyrius.
He didn’t have to tell me twice.
Instinct and too many fights telling me to move, I pitched myself out of the way, but something grabbed hold of me and I was yanked back. Spinning in the air like a top, I felt my chest and throat squeeze as something pressed into me, crushing me and cutting off my air.
Black tendrils danced in my vision. They were wrapped around me like black rope. I was suspended in the air by Layla’s darkness as it held me up like an extension of her hand. She’d wrapped me up like a goddamn gift. I’d never done that either. I would have been impressed if she wasn’t trying to kill my ass.
Layla was standing in front of me. It was hard to tell what she was looking at since her eyes were completely black—iris and the sclera both—but I was pretty sure she was looking at me with hatred pouring from her. Her power visibly danced over her skin, cresting over her like black waves with little sparks of energy flashing in her eyes in the light of the room.
“You’re not my sister,” she accused, her features twisting to make her look more feral, more animal. I was losing her.
Shit. I tried to move, but the only thing that moved was my head. The black tendrils burned through my clothes, to my skin, like ropes of fire. It felt like my lungs were exploding and I’d just swallowed molten lava.
A moan escaped me, and I felt the panic cramping across my heart to wend its way to my gut. Panting, I tried to inch my fingers to my soul blade, but I couldn’t even move at all. I took a gasping breath as I realized the tendrils were squeezing further with each exhale.
I understood at that moment she was playing with me. Showing off her talent, her control of the darkness, of Lucian’s gift.
She was either going to burn me or squeeze me to death with her darkness. Talk about a lame way to die.
“Rowyn,” whined Tyrius, his blue eyes flashing with his demon energy, his ears flat on his head as his eyes bored into mine. My heart almost stopped. My Tyrius…
Teeth clenched, I lifted my head and met Layla’s gaze.
Her smile shifted, the only warning I got as she pulled on her darkness, willing it to crush me.
And it did.
I cried out in pain, feeble from the lack of air. Oh, God. It hurt.
“I’m going to crush you to a pulp.” She laughed.
I had no doubt about that. If this were rope, I could cut my way out. But this was darkness in the form of tendrils, squeezing the life out of me. There was a tweak on my awareness. I was going to pass out.
Through my tears, I saw Danto standing next to her, trembling with both fear and rage, unable to move as he looked at Layla with his features twisted in shock and pain. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt her, not even to save his sorry ass—or mine. For a horrible moment, I saw Danto’s face shift. I saw his mind
working through his eyes as he made the decision to go after Lucian.
Crazed, Danto spun around and lowered himself in a crouch, teeth bared and claws out. Lucian blinked, surprise crossing his features, but the bastard never even moved.
Stupid vampire!
I felt a release around my ribs and then I hit the floor, landing hard on my ass. I took a breath. Then another. My lungs were suddenly overflowing with air, feeling as if they were going to burst as the oxygen filled them. But fear choked me as though the black tendrils were still wrapped around my chest.
Layla’s attention wasn’t on me anymore. It was on Danto.
Finally, I found my breath. “Danto!” I yelled in warning, but it was too late.
In a blur of movement, the vampire threw himself at Lucian with incredible vampire speed, which only the supernatural could match.
But Layla’s darkness was something else entirely.
A terrifying scream broke through her throat, and tendrils of darkness sailed from her hands to hit the vampire square in the back.
Danto was blasted off his feet. A whimper escaped me as he soared in the air and hit the far wall with a chilling crash that would definitely have killed any man. He collapsed to the floor in a heap of smoking skin and flickers of black energy, seizing as if having hit an electrical field. Then Danto’s breath rasped in, and his entire body went limp. Panting, he lay on the floor and didn’t move.
“Danto!” I pushed myself to my feet, staggering like a fool and not caring that Layla was probably going to fry my ass too.
I stumbled forward and dropped to the floor next to the vampire. Tyrius was already there, sniffing his face. He looked up at my approach, his ears lowered, a sad look on his face.
The vampire’s once beautiful porcelain skin was charred and blackened like burnt toast. I wrinkled my nose at the stench of burnt skin and swallowed the bile that rose in my throat.
“Oh, my God, Danto,” I moaned. She’d hit him really hard with her darkness, a lot harder than she’d hit me. “You idiot. Why didn’t you stay put?”
“Because he was trying to save you,” mewed Tyrius, eyes narrowing.
I looked up and glared at Layla. “How could you do this?” I howled, fury replacing any fears I was harboring before. “He loved you. You idiot. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Or are you so far gone with this darkness that you don’t care about your friends anymore?”
Layla’s face was empty of emotion as she moved to stand next to Lucian, who was off the couch and watching the scene with amusement playing on his face. His red eyes found mine, and he smiled as he took another drag off his cigarette. He blew out his smoke, his movements slow, tantalizing me.
“Did you really think you could take her from me?” asked the archdemon belligerently, his voice cruel and sour and scary as hell.
“I did.” No point in lying when you were about to die. “I thought she’d wake up from your stupid curse. I thought her love for Danto would be enough.” And I was wrong. I looked at Layla. She was staring at Danto with a proud smile on her face, like a job well done. Creepy.
Lucian’s expression became a snarl. “I think you’ve misjudged your strength and talents, Hunter,” he said, his voice iron hard.
I cocked a brow. “It happens, you red-eyed bastard.”
“Good one,” commented Tyrius, his mouth in a grimace that looked like he was about to say something stupid as well.
The archdemon watched me with an unexpected intensity. He looked dangerous standing next to Layla with his eyes glowing as the promise of violence drifted over him.
I felt myself pale. Yes, that was a stupid thing to say, but I was mad and my temper got the better of me. So sue me.
Lucian looked proudly at Layla. “This could have been you,” he said, turning his eyes back to me. “But you refused to accept it. You didn’t want it when it could have made you the strongest of your kind. You could have wielded the power of a hundred angels. But you rejected it.”
I screwed up my face, showing no fear, only distaste and hatred. “I still don’t want it, jackass. And I regret ever accepting it in the first place.” I narrowed my eyes. “I want nothing to do with you, ever.”
“That can be arranged.” Lucian’s brows rose in question.
Snarling like an animal, eager to do some personal damage, I yanked out my soul blade, aiming for one of his red eyes. I didn’t care which one, as long as I hit one.
Searing pain exploded in my hand. Crying out, I dropped my soul blade, my palm red and marred with ugly blisters. I looked down at my blade, its hilt red-hot like it was on fire. And then with a pop, it burst into silver ashes.
I looked up through a curtain of my bangs at the archdemon, raw hatred rippling in me, and I shook.
“That was unfortunate,” he said, mocking me.
“You son of a bitch,” I growled. “You know how hard it is to come by one of these blades?”
Lucian smiled. “You chose the wrong side, Rowyn.”
I shook my head. “No. I know which side I’m on,” I challenged, my voice a bit high-pitched.
He focused on me. “Pity. You could have lived.”
My heart pounded, and every thought of fighting vanished. Power. He had it. He was it. He had no morals. He had no soul. He was content with what he was, confident that none could stop him. Maybe he was right.
Subconsciously, I reached out and grabbed Tyrius, pulling him onto my lap and covering him with my body.
Seeing this, Lucian’s smile showed more teeth. His grin shifted as he recognized my fear, the slight movement of his body an invitation for pain.
Heart pounding in my throat, I pulled Tyrius closer. Fear clenched my chest. This was it. We were toast. We were going to die. He was going to have Layla barbecue us, or maybe he was going to do it himself.
My eyes found Layla’s, but she was staring at Lucian, admiration painted her features.
“No matter,” said Lucian a brief flash of teeth as he flicked the butt of his cigarette. “It won’t be long now. Everything is about to change. And whether you like it or not, you are part of this change. You helped make it happen.”
I held my breath, squeezing Tyrius into my chest harder. “Close your eyes, Tyrius,” I breathed, hot tears streaming down my face. My heart pounded so hard in my ears I could barely hear myself think as I prayed Lucian wouldn’t send me to the Netherworld as his slave.
I closed my eyes, braced myself, and waited to die.
A low sound lifted through the air, and the stink of demon energies assaulted me, hard and fast. Then a boom shifted the air in the room. But nothing had hit us…
I peeled open my right eye. Then my left.
Lucian and Layla were covered in a shifting black haze. And with a pop of air, the haze shimmered and they disappeared.
I didn’t have time to think about why they let us live. Heart pounding, I dropped Tyrius onto the floor and scrambled to reach Danto.
“Danto? Danto, wake up?” I ordered, fear cascading down on me in icy waves. “Danto!” I cried, shaking him. Again and again.
But the vampire wouldn’t wake.
7
“ P lease, you have to help him,” I pleaded, my panic stirring and settling in a familiar place deep in my soul. “Please. I didn’t know where else to go.”
The dark witch Evanora Crow stared at me. Her one milky eye rolled around in its socket as though trying to focus on me. Her warped body bent forward, supporting her weight on a cane—the one I’d seen Lisbeth with until Evanora took it back. Long strands of delicately thin white hair went past her shoulders. Her pale scalp peeked through in spots that weren’t there before. She was an ugly ancient witch, yet somehow, she seemed older and even a little weaker since I’d seen her last, right before she killed Lisbeth. The poison, I realized. It hadn’t killed her, but the old witch had taken a beating from it.
Evanora frowned, and she looked at me as if only now seeing my blistered skin and bruises. “Evanora does not
have to do anything,” answered the witch after a moment. “Evanora might change her mind and curse you for breaking into her shop.”
“We didn’t break in,” I said, exasperated, though shocked that she actually didn’t curse our asses. “We barged in. Big difference.”
Tyrius cleared his throat. “Uh, we might have broken a few things when we barged in, though, but that’s another story.”
The witch’s eyes were lost in the folds of her skin as her frown deepened. “You broke in,” she countered. “Evanora did not invite you.”
“Fine,” I let out a shaky breath. “Whatever you say. We broke in.” Who would even want to? The place had a thick, metallic odor of blood mixed with the faint stench of rot and an underlying scent of death—sharp and discomforting, like the smell of the city sewers. Magicking cadavers, Evanora?
My gaze fell to the vampire lying on the floor of the small room in the back of her shop where Evanora practiced and taught her dark magic. His chest rose and fell in rhythm, the only indication that he was still alive. But barely.
I couldn’t stop shaking. I was terrified I was already too late, terrified I had made a critical mistake, and terrified more innocents were about to face death because of me. My mixed blood was the culprit.
But I would make things right. I swore it.
My pulse was fast and rising still, and I felt my anxiety pulling me stiff. “I’ll do anything you want. I’ll give you gallons of my blood,” I said, moving forward and shoving my wrist in her face. “Take it. Please. Just help him.” I hated that my voice cracked, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t let Danto die. Not on my watch.
Before leaving the loft, Tyrius had Hulked-out and together we’d managed to haul the unconscious vampire to his car on the black panther’s back. And after I found his keys in his pockets, we drove here, to Mystic Quarter, to Evanora’s shop. I’d thought of calling Gareth, but there wasn’t enough time. The witch’s place was closer. Not to mention, he still hadn’t returned my calls.
Without Gareth around, Evanora was my second choice as a healer. Well, technically she wasn’t a healer, but I was willing to bet my life she knew hundreds of healing spells by heart. She had to learn them to heal herself whenever she borrowed magic from demons. Each time the demons took something from her in return—some life-force, blood, memories, a piece of her soul, limbs, even an eye. It was the price she paid for dark magic.
Dark Angel Page 28