Grave Sins

by Jenna Maclaine

  MacLeod nodded. “Let us finish this.”

  Simon hefted his sword and came at MacLeod with all the grace of a charging bull. Until one of the other rogues made a move, we would stand back and let MacLeod fight him one-on-one, as a challenge to his throne was meant to be received. MacLeod allowed Simon a few good blows, but it was clear to us all that the king was merely toying with him. I felt confident enough in his abilities to look away from the fight, keeping my eyes on Brodie and the crossbow. Michael and I slowly moved toward the far side of the alley, trying to make it appear as if we were stepping aside to give the combatants room to maneuver. I glanced across the alley to see Justine and Devlin doing the same. The clang of Simon and MacLeod’s swords rang in my ears, and when I was sure that Michael’s attention was fixed on Brodie, I allowed myself a glance to my left to see how the right was progressing.

  Simon and MacLeod were locked blade-to-blade, chest-to-chest. The king was smiling, his whole body humming with the thrill of battle. Simon shoved forward, throwing his weight into MacLeod, and the two separated, MacLeod stumbling backward. Simon lifted his sword and brought it down in an arc that was meant to take the king’s head. MacLeod blocked the blow, sparks flying from their blades, and in a move that was as graceful as any I’d seen danced on stage at the Paris Opera, MacLeod spun around and brought his sword up to slice cleanly through Simon’s neck. I cringed and looked away as his head rolled to the ground and his body collapsed. I hated killing the young ones. The magic that animated a vampire’s body died when the head or heart was taken, leaving the body in whatever state of decomposition would be natural if the person hadn’t been made a vampire. The older ones turned nicely to dust and bones. The younger ones were just decomposing bodies.

  There was a murmur of approval from the vampires above as MacLeod raised his sword in victory.

  “Your leader has challenged me and lost,” MacLeod addressed the crowd. “I tell you again, leave this city now and you may live. Stay, and you will die.”

  There was a moment of silence as we waited to see whether they would run or fight, and then Brodie spoke up from the back. “Kill them all and the city is ours!” he cried.

  Warden Ross had moved up behind me. “What do you think? Can you turn them all into toads?” he whispered.

  “Not likely,” I muttered.

  I doubted my ability to turn nearly fifty vampires into toads, but I did have magic that would help us. Devlin didn’t like for me to use my magic in a fight, though, unless it was absolutely necessary. He’d never said so, but I always felt that he was of the opinion that it was dishonorable to use magic against those who didn’t have any of their own to call. Of course, he didn’t complain when it saved us from getting killed. I glanced up again at the vampires lining the rooftops. My using magic against the rogues would do nothing to cement MacLeod’s position as king. Unless things took a turn for the worse, we would have to fight this battle with blades and fists.

  I tensed as the vampire who had handed Simon the sword reached down and picked it up from where it lay in a cooling pool of his leader’s blood. The rogues were waiting, watching to see what this man would do. It was obvious that he, and not Brodie, was Simon’s second in command. I prayed that he would have a care for his men, and take them and leave. He looked down at the bloody sword for a long moment, and when he looked up I could see the anger in his eyes. I groaned and shifted my stance as he raised the sword, shouted to his men, and four dozen vampires rushed us.

  While it was true that the rogues couldn’t surround us in so confined a space, it didn’t stop them from battering us like a wave against a cliff. We were forced to fall back into three lines because the width of the alley was such that any more of us abreast hampered our movements. Even so, it wasn’t long before swords were sheathed and knives and fists came into play. There simply wasn’t enough room to swing a sword.

  As Michael tried to maneuver us around the edge of the melee, keeping our backs to the alley wall, Warden Ross grabbed my arm.

  “Get behind me,” he shouted.

  I shook my head. “He is my consort. My place is at his side.”

  Ross regarded me for no longer than the blink of an eye, then nodded. “I’ll guard your back as well as I can.”

  I nodded and followed Michael as we pushed and fought to get to Brodie. I’d had to sheath the claymore but I still had my short sword. It was well bloodied, and my hands and shirt were splattered with red.

  The rogues had pushed the king’s men to the far end of the alley. They fell to our blades, but there were so many of them that they continued to come, pressing our men back. As far as I could ascertain the king and his men were bloodied, but still standing. I could see the top of Devlin’s head on the far side of the alley, simply because he was so much taller than anyone else around him. He and Justine hadn’t made it as far around the edge of the throng as we had. They were only a few feet in front of MacLeod and his men. I glanced behind me and could no longer see Ross at all.

  My inattention was rewarded with a knife blade slicing across my arm. I didn’t waste time looking down. It was a deep enough cut that I could already feel blood running down my arm. I dropped my sword arm and drove the blade up through the ribs and into the heart of the vampire who had cut me. I hadn’t even pulled the blade out when another rogue grabbed me by the hair, jerking me around the vampire I’d just impaled and pulling me into the middle of the throng. I shouted in frustration as my sword slipped from my hand.

  Fingers clawed at me from all sides, and before I could reach for the knives that were sheathed at my wrists I found myself in the grasp of at least three vampires, one with his arm around my neck and the other two holding each of my wrists. Michael growled in outrage and pulled his great claymore from its scabbard. He came through the crowd like an avenging angel, and blood flew as one vampire after another fell to his wrath. Unconcerned that the rogues could now surround him, his only focus was reaching me. I saw blades slice at him, rogues with weapons raised coming at him from behind, and then the vampires holding me spun me around and I lost sight of him entirely. Instead I looked over the heads of a dozen rogues to see Brodie aiming his weapon directly at my heart.

  He smiled as the arrow shot from the crossbow. It seemed as if I had all the time in the world to watch it fly toward me. I braced myself for the impact, knowing it would hurt worse than any wound I had ever suffered in battle, but the instant before it hit, Michael threw himself in front of me. I cringed in horror at the meaty sound of the arrow slicing into his chest. He turned to me, the bolt piercing his heart, with a look of surprise on his face.

  “I’m not dead,” he said, his hand reaching up to touch my face, and then I watched the man I loved fall to the ground in front of me.

  I screamed and kicked backward at the vampire who held me, connecting solidly with his leg just below the knee. I heard the snap of bone as either the leg broke or the knee dislocated. He released his hold on my neck with a strangled cry and, to my surprise, the men holding my wrists let me go as well. That was a mistake.

  I dropped to my knees and rolled Michael over, sending up a silent prayer of thanks that he was alive. He winced and reached for my hand.

  “Mo ghraidh,” he whispered in a ragged voice, “pull it out. Please.”

  My stomach clenched at the thought, but I nodded. Grasping the arrow, I pulled it out of his chest in one quick movement. His body bowed in pain and then his blue eyes fluttered closed, and he was still in my arms. I pulled open his shirt, popping buttons off until I could see his bare chest. He was breathing. Blood flowed from the wound and I pressed my hand over it to stanch the bleeding. The sounds of the fight around me receded until all I heard was my own ragged breathing, and the sound of my voice saying over and over, “You’ll be fine. You have to be fine.”

  Then hands were reaching for me again, pulling at my shoulders and my hair, trying to drag me off Michael. We were surrounded by our enemies, too far away for any of our al
lies to reach us in time. They were going to kill us both. I tried to hang on to Michael as the rogues pulled me back, but my fingers, slick with blood, slipped from his wrist. I watched his hand fall lifelessly to the ground, and something snapped inside me.

  Rage, fury, the thirst for vengeance—it all fed that little bit of dark magic that Morrigan had left within me. I felt it stir and build, gaining momentum until it threatened to choke me, and for the first time in ten years I didn’t push it down.

  I set it free.

  Chapter 25

  The darkness that filled me erupted like a volcano. If light could be black, then that’s what poured from my body. I stood, and the vampires who were reaching for me flew backward. The dark magic surrounded me, forming a protective circle around me and Michael, and shot into the air above me like a beacon. The fighting stopped, and all eyes turned to me.

  I held my hands out and my skin glowed like polished ivory. I knew without being told that my whiskey-colored eyes had turned black with the magic that filled me. I turned slowly to Brodie, and smiled a wholly evil smile. He nocked another arrow. I spread my arms wide, giving him a perfect target.

  “Take your best shot,” I called to him.

  The arrow hit the protective circle around me, and exploded into splinters. Two more arrows followed, each meeting the same fate. Brodie threw down his crossbow, his face mottled with rage, and shouted, “Kill her! Kill her!”

  The rogues who were still standing, twenty-five or thirty in all, rushed me. I laughed as the smell of burning flesh filled my nostrils, and the screams of the vampires rang in my ears. I turned in a circle, watching them try for me and fail. My magic was strong, the heady rush of power coursing through my body. It felt as though I could hold this circle forever, and no one short of the Goddess herself could break it. But that wasn’t what the magic wanted. It wanted blood.

  I turned back to Brodie, and whatever he saw on my face made his eyes widen in panic. He tried to run but I reached out, pouring my magic through my fingertips, imagining those fingers curling around his neck. He stopped and turned back to me, his eyes wide, his fingers clawing at the invisible hand that was gripping his throat.

  “Your leader has challenged the King of the Western Lands and died in honorable combat,” I called out. “You were given the opportunity to live, and yet you chose to stay and commit treason. Your life and the lives of all you command are now forfeit.”

  “Mercy,” Brodie cried in a strangled voice. Several of his followers dropped to their knees in front of me and made a similar appeal.

  Mercy. It was a plea that would have swayed me if I hadn’t been flush with black magic that had lain dormant inside me for a decade. Evil knows nothing of mercy, and it was the darkness that was in control now.

  I laughed, and some part of me that was still me cringed at the sound. I looked down at Michael’s unconscious body, then back up at Brodie, making sure he saw the fury in my eyes. I wanted him to know that his death had little to do with treason, and everything to do with the arrow he’d shot into my beloved’s heart.

  “The king offered you mercy,” I said. “I will grant you none.”

  I raised my hands and let the dark magic ride me. I couldn’t control it and I had no wish to do so. It was wild magic, and it knew what it wanted. All I had to do was hold on. I watched the dark light surround Brodie and he thrashed and tried to wipe it off with flailing hands. It swirled around him from the ground up, and when he opened his mouth to scream, the darkness spilled inside him. It filled him and, through its connection to me, I could feel it literally sucking the life out of him. Dark magic, black magic, is fueled by blood and death, and this magic had been hungry for so very long.

  I watched, partly in horror, but mostly in triumph, as Brodie’s skin withered until he looked like an old man. His mouth still screamed, though no sound came from it, and his body jerked violently, arching upward as if pulled by strings. Then he fell forward, down the steps, and when he landed his body exploded into fine dust. And I smiled at the rush of it all.

  For about five seconds even a human could have heard a pin drop in that alley, and then all hell broke loose. The rogues ran for the stairs, scattering the ashes of their fallen comrade. The magic welled up around them and blocked their retreat, surrounding them and boxing them in. I threw back my head and reveled in the power that poured into me as the darkness sucked their lives from them, just as it had sucked Brodie’s. I felt more than a twinge of regret when the power began to ebb. The dark light slunk back over the cobblestones, returning to me.

  “Cin?”

  I looked down to see Michael blinking up at me. The smooth expanse of his chest was flawless and perfect again. Unconsciously my hand reached up to touch the gash across my arm. It, too, was healed. It was then that I noticed there was no longer any blood on my hands. My skin was as clean as if I’d just emerged from a bath. Michael ran a hand over his heart, as if to make sure he was truly whole, then rose to his feet. He cupped my face and looked into my eyes.

  “M’anam,” he said, my soul, and there was such pain and regret in those two words.

  I looked up at him, confused. I didn’t understand the look on his face. It was as if he hurt for me, the way you would hurt for someone you loved if they were in pain. But I wasn’t in pain. I felt wonderful, my body humming with magic. I was healed and, more importantly, Michael was healed. The magic had healed us as it had …

  I stood very still, only my eyes darting to the left and right. There were piles of dust and ash in the alley, piles that had once been people. I closed my eyes, and I could hear Devlin and Justine whispering behind me, the king and his men as well, all wondering what they should say or do. I opened my eyes and looked up, watching as the city’s vampires melted into the night. Only one shadow was left on the rooftops, the figure of a woman with long black hair, wearing a cloak made of raven feathers. With a flourish of that cloak she bowed low to me, and then simply vanished.

  I took a deep breath, pushing every bit of magic I had, both dark and light, as far down as it would go. Now that the rush was gone, my body started to shake with fear and fatigue. I looked back up into Michael’s eyes, and I could see the strain on his face as he gathered me against him.

  “What have I become?” I whispered and collapsed into his arms.

  Chapter 26

  I was dimly aware of Michael scooping me up and carrying me quickly up the stairs and out of the alley. He hailed one of our carriages, shouting orders to Fritz, the driver, to take us back to the townhouse. I slipped in and out of consciousness on the ride there, waking every few minutes to find myself cradled in Michael’s arms, his hands stroking my hair as he whispered to me in the darkness. When we arrived I assured him that I could make it in under my own power, but he would hear none of it, swinging me out of the carriage and carrying me up the steps. Drake was waiting by the door, and he opened it before Michael gained the landing.

  “What happened?” Drake asked. “Where are the others?”

  “Everyone’s alive,” Michael snapped at him as he swept through the door.

  Bel was standing on the bottom step, a worried frown marring her otherwise perfect features. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked.

  “Nothing’s wrong with her,” Michael said. I heard the edge to his voice and tensed in his arms. He sighed, and made an effort to sound more reasonable. “She’s fine. She just needs rest.”

  I laid my head in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of him. As he carried me up to our room I took the time to enjoy the feel of his arms around me, because I knew that the peace of this moment wouldn’t last. Silently I cursed Edmund Gage for tainting me with his magic, and Morrigan herself for not taking it all when she performed the cleansing. It may have saved our lives tonight, but would it destroy our love? I’d kept this from Michael for the past ten years. It would not be any easy thing to forgive under normal circumstances, and right now our relationship was far from normal.


  Michael laid me gently on the bed, and then turned to the whiskey decanter on the dressing table. He poured us each a generous serving and sat on the edge of the bed, staring into his glass as he swirled the dark liquid in circles. I took a large sip, closing my eyes and taking comfort in the familiar burn as the whiskey settled in my stomach.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  I sighed. “You probably want to know what happened back there.”

  “If I’d wanted to know what happened, that’s what I would have asked. All I want to know right now is if you’re all right.”

  I looked into his eyes, and the full weight of what I’d done came crashing down on me. I had betrayed his trust, and all he was concerned about was my welfare. For a decade I’d lied to him, and to my friends, about something that obviously had deadly consequences, and even so my safety was still his first concern. Truly, I did not deserve him.

  I felt tears well up in my eyes. “Oh, Michael, what have I done?”

  Over the years I had become adept at suppressing the black magic, tamping it down whenever I lost my temper and felt it stirring within me. I had become arrogant, believing that as long as I didn’t use it, I could pretend that it wasn’t truly a part of me. Tonight it had gotten the better of me, and men had died because of it.

  The strained look left his face and his features softened as he gathered me in his arms and let me cry. I laid my head on his chest and he stroked my hair, whispering comforting words to me in Gaelic.

  “Is anything hurting, lass?” he asked.

  “Only my conscience. Michael, I killed those men.”

  “Aye, you did at that. Men, I’d like to remind you, who were traitors to their king and guilty of high treason. I know it must have been difficult, but they were dead men anyway, Cin, and they would have killed the both of us, and who knows how many others, if you hadn’t killed them first.”