Chapter 23
Marcus
The Meridian’s glass and steel exterior blurs past as I shadow-travel through the night. Kara’s presence pulses in my mind like a beacon, drawing me inexorably toward her. Our bond burns brighter with each passing second – thank fuck she’s not blocking me out anymore.
She’s found Evelyn, but something’s wrong. The fear threading through her thoughts sets my teeth on edge.
“You’re not just some witch rushing into danger. You have honor. I respect that.”
My own words echo mockingly as I phase through another wall. I should have told her everything. Should have made her understand that this isn’t just about some mystical blood match.
A flash of her current surroundings hits me – ornate gallery walls, twisted sculptures casting bizarre shadows. The sharp tang of dark magic fills my nostrils as I materialize in a corridor lined with disturbing artwork. Her scent is stronger here, mingled with others – her family, Soren.
Another burst of her emotion floods through me – determination mixed with rising alarm. My fangs extend instinctively as I sense what she hasn’t yet realized: Lucien’s presence, approaching like a gathering storm.
I tear through the gallery faster now, barely registering the priceless pieces shattering in my wake.
The last time I saw her, she’d thrown those words at me – “That’s what this is, isn’t it?
One last roll in the hay before the big battle?
” – and I’d walked away like a fool. Now, her life hangs in the balance, and I’m still too far away.
The bond between us flares with sudden intensity. She’s in the central atrium – I can feel her exact location now. My muscles coil as I prepare to shadow-jump again.
If anything happens to her…
I materialize in the gallery’s east wing, immediately cataloging the aftermath of recent fighting. Shattered glass crunches under my boots as I scan the space. Display cases lie in ruins, their contents scattered across marble floors. Scorch marks score the walls where spells went wide.
The air itself feels charged, thick with lingering magic.
I recognize Kara’s signature immediately – sharp and bright like lightning.
It mingles with other traces: her sister Mia’s darker energy, Soren’s vampiric shadow-magic, Rowan, and Georgia, and something else…
ancient power that makes my skin prickle.
Blood spatters mark a path through the destruction – not Kara’s, thank God. The copper scent belongs to Lucien’s guards. At least three of them, from what I can tell. Smart tactical choice, taking them down quickly and moving on.
I follow Kara’s trail. Her scent leads deeper into the gallery, growing stronger with each step. She passed through here recently, maybe ten minutes ago. The bond pulses steadily now, confirming I’m on the right track.
The security systems are down – cameras dark, motion sensors disabled. Someone knew exactly how to bypass them. Probably Soren’s work; he always did have a knack for infiltration. The team moved efficiently through here, leaving minimal trace except for the necessary confrontations.
I pause at an intersection, letting my enhanced senses guide me. West corridor shows signs of combat, but it’s a dead end. South leads to storage. The northern path… There! Another burst of Kara’s distinctive energy signature, mixed with the ozone tang of recent spellwork. I follow the trail.
The scent of dark magic grows stronger as I enter what appears to be a private showroom. I stop abruptly as I sense the wrongness here; the room pulses unnervingly. My steps echo as I approach a simple glass case in the center of the room.
Inside sits an innocuous-looking crystal sphere. To human eyes, it would appear unremarkable, but I can see the writhing darkness contained within. Purple tendrils of energy coil and twist around it like living smoke. This is old magic – the kind that demands blood sacrifice.
Turning a slow circle, I feel dread rise as I see that the walls are lined with similar cases, each housing some sort of item that oozes evil.
Damn you, Lucien. What are you doing?
And more importantly, where are the others?
I reach out with my senses, expecting to detect Evelyn Blackwood’s presence. Nothing. Instead, I catch something else – a trace of…fur? The signature is unlike anything I’ve encountered in my centuries. Not witch, not vampire, but something far more primal.
“Poppy,” I mutter, finally understanding. The squirrel familiar is bound here, not Evelyn.
But why would Lucien…?
A chill runs through me as another presence registers. One I know all too well. Lucien’s dark energy seeps into the room like poison gas, and I realize with horror that he’s already here. Has been here, waiting.
“I thought you’d be along soon.” He’s leaning against a showcase casually. He straightens now and walks toward me.
“Back for more, Marlowe?” I raise an eyebrow, although I’m taking in the space around us, registering access points, potential weapons, high ground, anything that might be useful in a fight.
“I thought I’d level the playing field, Nightshade.” Lucien chuckles, advancing on me.
“Give yourself an advantage, you mean?” I snort. “Or play dirty. You need this shit,” I jerk my head at the odd collection of objects, “to give you power, don’t you? You’re all-powerful with it. But without it…”
Lucien shrugs carelessly. “All’s fair in love and war. And there’s no love between us, so we both know what this is. War.”
“Suits me fine, fucker.”
Lucien’s smirk widens as he circles me. “I’m going to enjoy killing you, Marcus. And then…” His eyes gleam with malicious intent. “Well, let’s just say I have special plans for the Blackwood family. Especially that feisty little witch you’re so fond of.”
My fangs extend fully at the threat. “You won’t get near her.”
“No?” Dark energy simmers around him as he draws power from the artifacts surrounding us. They glow and pulse. “And who’s going to stop me? You?”
He strikes without warning, black lightning arcing toward me. I dodge, but the darkness follows, wrapping around my leg like a serpent. Pain sears through me as it burns through fabric and flesh.
“Fuck!” I grit out at the unexpected pain. I rip free and launch myself at him, but an invisible force slams me back into a display case. Glass shatters around me as more power pulses from the artifacts, feeding his power.
“Run, Kara. Please run.”
Blood trickles down my back as I surge to my feet, the wound already beginning to heal with that familiar tingling sensation. Even after five centuries, I never quite get used to the strange feeling of flesh knitting itself back together.
Lucien’s next attack catches me in the chest, and I feel ribs crack. The pain is excruciating, but I force myself to stay conscious. Every second I keep him here is another second for Kara to escape.
“Your noble streak is pathetic,” Lucien sneers, hurling another blast that sends me crashing through a sculpture. “All this suffering just to buy time for a witch?”
I spit blood and laugh. “Better than being your puppet.”
More darkness coils around me, crushing, burning.
I can’t match this level of power – not with all these cursed artifacts amplifying his strength.
But I push through the searing pain that threatens to overwhelm me, launching another attack with every ounce of strength I can muster.
My muscles object loudly, but I’ve endured far worse in my centuries of existence.
Just keep fighting. Give her time. That’s all that matters.
My body screams in protest as another blast hits me.
I sense Kara’s growing alarm. She knows something’s wrong.
She knows Lucien’s near.
“Don’t come back. Please, just get out.” I pray she’s listening. That she’s not stubbornly blocking me out still.
“Please, Kara. Run!”
The pain is excruciating as another blast of dark magic tears through me. I taste copper, feel my own blood trickling from the corner of my mouth.
“Pathetic.” Lucien’s voice drips with disdain. “The great Marcus Nightshade, brought low by love for a witch. What would your maker say?”
I struggle upright onto my knees, each motion pure torture. “He’d say it was worth it.”
“The Blackwoods will fall.” He circles me like a predator. “Starting with that pretty little witch of yours. Perhaps I’ll keep her around for a while first. Break her slowly.”
Rage gives me the strength to lunge at him, but another surge of energy slams me back down. My bones crack on impact. The artifacts around us pulse with malevolent energy. Lucien inhales deeply, as if sucking it in.
“Getting boring now.” He sighs theatrically. “Time to end this little dance.”
Darkness coils around my throat, crushing. My vision blurs as tendrils of black magic burn through flesh and bone. I don’t fight it. Every second he spends killing me is another second Kara has to escape.
“Run, love. Please run.”
“Any last words?” Lucien raises his hand, dark power gathering.
I meet his gaze defiantly. “Go to hell.” The rasp I hear doesn’t sound like my voice. But it is.
The blast hits me full force, a wave of searing agony that makes my bones feel like molten lead.
Pain beyond anything I’ve experienced in all my existence burns through me, igniting every nerve ending until I’m nothing but white-hot torment.
The world swivels and darkens at the edges of my vision as my enhanced healing struggles and fails against this assault.
For the first time since my turning, since that bitter winter night in Florence when my maker gave me immortality, I feel myself truly dying. My body, which has endured countless battles and wounds, is finally betraying me.
I wait, breath rattling through my ruined windpipe as I anticipate the final blow that will end it all.
It doesn’t come.
Why isn’t he doing it?
It doesn’t matter. As long as he’s still here, he’s not there with her. She might make it. She might.
I feel a familiar prickle in the back of my mind.
“Marcus.” It’s her. My charred lips curl up, the sense of her soothing the pain somehow. She needs to go. Surely, I’ve given her enough of a head start. It has to be enough…because there’s nothing left in me to give. But still, the death blow doesn’t come. Something has distracted him.
I hear boots from nearby. Shouts.
“Get away from him!” Darick’s voice rings out. Magic explodes through the gallery – bright and clean, cutting through Lucien’s darkness. Morgan and the others surge forward, their combined power pushing Lucien back.
“Ah, well.” Lucien straightens his jacket casually. “Much as I’d love to play with all of you, I have other appointments to keep.”
He vanishes in a swirl of shadow, leaving me broken on the marble floor. My body won’t heal. Something’s wrong. The darkness spreads through me like poison.
I’m dying. Actually dying.