Sacrifice (The Venus Chronicles #1)

Chapter 38

Thirty-Eight

Michaels’ ethereal sword slashed through fae flesh and demon spirit alike. The rules of engagement no longer applied; they were broken beyond all hope of redemption now. The chapel that had been his home lay desecrated, the consecrated ground made vile and sticky with the blood of the Dark Fae. Righteous rage pumped through Michaels’ veins and his blade swung again and again, cutting down the possessed and their fae rescuers alike.

Some fae had sacrificed themselves, foolishly believing that offering themselves as vessels for the dybbuk would improve their chances of success and give their comrades time to escape.

It had made Michaels even more determined not to let them get away.

He lurched for the open door just in time to see the violet portal wink out of existence. The last living fae had gone. And so had his collection of dybbuk.

Michaels yelled out in frustration. Centuries of reaping negated. Hundreds of human lives sacrificed in vain. He turned to survey the wreckage of the church that had been his fortress and his refuge and tried to take it in.

He needed Jesper.

He clutched at his head and strained to clear his mind to search for him in the quintessence. He could not see him at the museum. Every favorite haunt, every common spot, was empty. Jesper wasn’t anywhere. What had happened to him? Was he dead or taken? Michaels couldn’t see into the Netherwylde , the Fae domain, from here. Could he have been taken?

There was a sudden shift in the quintessence, and Michaels put a hand out to the wall to steady himself. Gut-wrenching lurches in the cosmic energy rolled his stomach. It was not over. The structure was collapsing. Bindings were tearing. The power of the sun had not finished its work when it had destroyed the wards around Michaels’s chapel. Suddenly he realized - Lucien was breaking free.

Had he got the girl? Michaels lurched through the door, spread his wings and leapt into the sky to soar over the city.

Below him, the city was oddly quiet and still. Cars disabled by the blast stood stationary in what should have been rush-hour traffic. People milled around, confused. Tensions were rising. How long would it take to descend into chaos?

Michaels set down in the alleyway close by the police station and charged in, barging his way past the front desk and down to the cells. His fellow officers were following emergency protocol, hauling out riot gear and suiting up.

The girl.

As soon as he saw her cell open and empty, he knew Lucien had taken advantage of Michaels’ diversion. He let out a bellow of frustration and stormed to the custody desk.

“Evangeline Areli, where is she?” he demanded.

The custody sergeant, Williams, checked his log. “Went a couple of hours ago,” he tabbed through the notes on the screen. “Solicitor came for her with a court order to discharge.”

“Show me,” Michaels snarled. Solicitor? Since when did Eve have a solicitor? Nobody knew she was there.

The sergeant tapped a few keys on his computer and pulled up the CCTV.

Lucien stood at the front desk, tapping his fingernails on its metal surface, impatient to be served.

Williams look confused as they watched the recording. “That’s funny, I don’t remember that.”

On screen Lucien pulled out two sheets of blank paper to hand to Williams who studied them carefully.

“They’re blank,” murmured the custody sergeant at Michaels side, “I could have sworn?—”

“They are,” growled Michaels, who could see Lucien’s lips forming the command spell under his breath.

The custody sergeant on screen opened the security door and escorted Lucien through.

Michaels toggled the feed to watch from another angle. Lucien and the befuddled Williams strolling down to the cells. Straight to Eve’s cell to set her free. Lucien glanced up at the camera, gave it a wink, and the picture fell into a storm of static.

Williams started to stutter. “I, I, I don’t understand. Shit.” He tapped hurriedly at the keyboard, then gaped at the screen. “Who? What?”

Michaels checked the time stamp. 7:15 AM. Over 3 hours had passed. Had he put her to use already? Michaels closed his eyes and delved into the quintessence to search for him. There was no sign of Lucien anywhere.

It couldn’t be possible. Was Lucien free?

“Shit.”

He felt further, beyond the anger and the disruption in the cosmic energy. There was something else, another sensation that had perhaps been there for hours, but overshadowed by the mayhem Michaels had endured. A celestial event had taken place. The reaver had channeled the power of the solar flare. Michaels could feel the burn in the air, viscous trails of spent energy. The transit of Venus, Lucien had used it, used the girl.

He couldn’t see Lucien, but he could see the trails. Now it was the only way to find him.