22. Green is an Ugly Colour #2
‘What are you doing?’ I rasp out, trying to distract her.
‘Making sure your blood isn’t wasted. Your sacrifice will add to the power of my city.’ She starts speaking words in a language I don’t know, a bowl appearing beneath my head.
I’m about to die, but my life does not flash before my eyes. I have no time to dwell on regrets or feel the loss of all my hopes and dreams for the future.
No. I’m too busy pulling at the bonds around my wrists, pushing through the unending pain assailing me.
I need to loosen her hold on my hair without the blade slitting my throat.
Fighting for all I’m worth, I will never go gently into death.
I try to kick backwards at her, but I can’t move my legs; they’re frozen in place. More goddamn Magic.
A scream rends the atmosphere, and it’s coming from my throat- a raw, animal sound. There are no tears, no fear, only wrath and rage as the blade presses into my skin and blood wells, sliding down my throat.
The chanting increases in speed and volume, a wind whipping up around us, candles guttering in its wake, only to flare again instantly.
I’m sorry Jake, I think as the knife presses further into the side of my neck, blood trickling down in a slow stream, warm and sticky.
The door slams open, shadows erupting into darkness around us. The knife falls away, and I’m falling to the floor as my hair is suddenly released from Jezreel’s death-grip.
Micah.
A sound unlike anything I’ve ever heard fractures the silence that’s fallen, a roar of violence that shatters glass and gutters candles.
Jezreel is ripped away, screaming. A raw, desperate sound, full of rage and visceral fear.
I’m on my knees on the floor as holo-lights flare overhead, scattering the darkness as my eyes adjust to the brightness assaulting me.
Micah stands in the center of the room, wings flared, shadows roiling at his back, world-ending rage etched across his perfect face. A thrill shoots down my spine, and it’s not fear.
‘Micah, please,’ Jezreel begs as his snarl cuts her off. She’s whimpering, all the hatred and rage and self-satisfaction wiped from her face. All that remains is terror.
He is an avenging angel, death incarnate. There is no compassion, no mercy on his face as he holds the Witch by the throat with one hand, her legs kicking the air as she claws at him for release.
‘Free Evangeline,’ he says calmly, quietly, his face sliding into the neutral mask I usually loathe. The one worn by an ancient, powerful Vampire who cares nothing for human lives. Who rules through fear and darkness and an ancient, unyielding power.
The bonds disappear instantly, but I stay on the ground. I’m not sure if my legs will hold me right now. My head is spinning, adrenaline still pumping frantically through my blood, fight or flight simultaneously flooding my veins.
‘Micah, I’m sorry, I didn’t have a choice.’ Her words are cut off as his hand tightens on her neck.
He hasn’t even glanced at me, his eyes nothing but black vortexes as he stares dispassionately, coldly, at the woman he’s slowly choking to death.
‘I can explain.’ She’s clawing at his hand in desperation, leg scrambling for purchase.
‘I don’t care.’ With a sharp twist, the snap of bone is deafening as her neck breaks.
Micah drops the Witch to the floor, her sightless eyes staring at nothing, dress spread like a pool of blood around her.
The shadows disappear, and he’s instantly kneeling on the floor in front of me so fast I don’t have time to blink. His wings cast shadows across his face, spread out like a protective covering over us both.
‘Evangeline.’ His voice is soft, warm against my chilled skin and the cut along my neck that’s starting to sting. He’s searching my face, my eyes, roaming over my body.
Pulling me onto his lap, his arms come around me, strong against my back. He lowers his head onto mine, where it’s fallen against his chest. I should be crying with relief, yet all I feel is numb.
‘I’ve never been so afraid in my entire fucking existence.
’ His voice is a velvet caress, so low I could think I imagined the words.
But his body, the same one that wields such power, that ended a life with a twist of his wrist, is shaking against mine.
I hold him tighter than I’ve ever held anyone before.
Scooping me up gently, as if I could break at any moment, Micah cradles me against his solid chest. He tucks his wings in tight behind him and stands, heading for the door I can now see is hanging by one hinge from the wooden frame.
‘Can she be…,’ I gesture at her body, trying to find the right words. ‘Brought back.’
‘I don’t know.’ Micah frowns, pausing.
‘Then let’s make sure it’s not possible.’ Pushing against his chest, he sets me carefully onto my feet. I center myself, pull out my gun, and unlock it with my palm. I’ve never killed before, but she’s already dead.
That’s what I tell myself as I brace and fire. Two to her chest, and one to her forehead. I’m not leaving anything to chance. Wood bullets tipped in silver work just as well on human Witches. I calmly slide the gun back into my pants, pulling my shirt over it.
‘What about the body?’ I’m staring at the dead Witch. I don’t know why it matters. She tried to kill me. She betrayed Micah. She may have believed she was right to protect the Warlock, one of her people, but she hadn’t needed to slit my throat and use my blood to further her power.
Still, a life is a life, even though I just put three bullets into her. Leaving her lying there feels wrong.
‘Leave her to her own kind. Let her be an example of what happens if they stand against me. All goodwill between the Witches and the Vampires is at an end.’ His voice is like ice as he picks me up again and walks out without a backward glance.
Winding my arms around his neck, his midnight hair is like silk against my fingers as his wings flare wide and we launch into the star-strewn night sky.