Chapter 27
VINCULA
Sam stood with his arms folded across his chest, waiting for Caius to follow his instructions.
Caius stared at the shadows swirling around him and wondered how in the fuck he was going to make them do anything other than move. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“The shadows are the realm,” Sam explained. “You are not actually creating; you are manipulating them to form into something else.”
Caius thought about a rock, willing it to form. The shadows made the shape of a small boulder like a fucking shadow puppet. “This isn’t working.”
“You have been trying for five minutes,” Sam reminded him. “When the King of Aravoth created the realms, it was out of love for his wife. Dig up the strongest emotion you have and use that.”
“Will annoyance work?” Caius asked with feigned seriousness.
Sam’s wings tightened, and Caius smirked. While the Angel’s face showed no emotion, his wings were a front-row seat to how he felt. “You are impatient.”
Closing his eyes, he thought about Rory, how she laughed with her friends and cried over her mother. The reminder of sending her away flooded his memories, and his anger and anguish overrode his other emotions.
“Stop,” Sam commanded, and when Caius opened his eyes, they widened.
A small boulder sat before them, and black veins coated his hands. Pushing up his sleeves confirmed his suspicions; the veins stretched to his elbow.
Sam grabbed Caius’ wrist and turned it over, examining his skin. “You do not look surprised by these.”
“You do.” An ancient Angel being surprised by anything couldn’t be good, but he wasn’t focused on that. He was focused on the boulder. He’d done it.
“This has not happened to others who have created,” Sam observed, still studying the veins. “But they were Seraphim, and you are only a mystic.”
“Can my body handle this much power?” Caius would cover himself in scars if it meant saving his mate, but if he died breaking free, it defeated the purpose.
“I don’t think so. Do you have more of these?” Sam asked, flicking his eyes over Caius’ tall frame. “This has happened before, yes?”
He flipped his arm over, looking at the veins. “Yes, on my hands, but they faded quickly.”
They didn’t hurt or itch as they appeared on his arms; they burned, but not in the physical, painful sense. It was an icy fire that heightened his anger, fanning the flames.
The veins were the living embodiment of his fury, strengthening him. It was euphoric.
“They are not fading now,” Sam remarked. “You need to find a different way. I do not know what this means.”
Caius yanked his sleeve down. “This is the only way.”
The commander stepped back, shaking his head. “I will not help you kill yourself. If Lauren and I must try to kill Gedeon ourselves, we will.”
They would die trying.
“I’ve succeeded,” Caius said, motioning to the boulder. “I can practice on my own. Gedeon is powerful, and I will not risk you or Lauren.”
“And what good will you be if you are dead?” Sam demanded, his wings spreading wide.
Caius used shadows to push the boulder off the arrowball field. “We don’t know if it’s going to kill me. It makes my veins darker, nothing else,” he lied.
“It looks like poison.” They left the field, walking around the pond and through the garden. “This could be what the prophecy meant, Caius. You cannot risk it.”
“I can, and I will.”