Chapter 25
Marcus
Kara’s blood floods through me like liquid fire, healing and awakening every cell. The pain recedes as flesh knits back together, bones mending at unprecedented speed. But it’s more than physical healing – her essence courses through my veins, creating something so profound it steals my breath.
I grip her wrist gently, fighting to control my response to her blood. Nothing in my life has prepared me for this intensity. I sense her every heartbeat, every breath, every flicker of thought.
Enough,” I manage, pulling away before I take too much. Her face swims into focus, pale but determined. The predator in me screams to continue feeding, to drain every last precious drop, but iron control wins out.
Her blood still sings in my veins, more potent than any I’ve tasted in my long existence. The power it holds, the raw magic streaming through my system, is intoxicating. I force myself to look away from the tempting pulse point at her throat, unwilling to risk losing control again.
I feel Kara’s unnatural stillness. Her emotions are a turbulent mix beneath her calm exterior – fear warring with relief, determination wrestling with uncertainty, and something deeper she’s trying to suppress. She hasn’t moved from my side, though her face is pale from blood loss.
Around us, the others stare in stunned silence.
Darick’s expression holds knowing recognition – he’s been through this himself with Rowan.
Evelyn watches with a mix of concern and calculation while Seraphina’s eyes narrow at the obvious depth of our connection.
The bond between Kara and me is visible even to those without supernatural senses.
“Impossible,” Selene whispers, breaking the silence. “The healing shouldn’t be this complete, this fast.”
She’s right. Even with witch blood, injuries this severe should take days to fully heal. Yet I can feel the last of my wounds closing, strength surging through my restored body. Kara’s blood hums in me, more potent than any I’ve encountered in centuries.
Standing gingerly, I reach for her hand, but she pulls back slightly. Her face remains carefully blank, though I can feel she’s struggling to process what just happened. The permanent nature of what we’ve done hasn’t fully hit her yet. Or perhaps it has, and this studied calm is her way of coping.
“Kara…?” I begin.
“I’m fine,” she says flatly, though her voice wavers slightly. “We should focus on—” She stops abruptly, swaying on her feet.
I catch her elbow before she can fall, ignoring her attempt to shrug me off. Her pulse races under my fingers, her skin cool to the touch. She’s given too much blood, yet she’s fighting to maintain her composure, to appear unaffected.
I sense her building the walls around her emotions, trying to lock down the flood of feelings threatening to overwhelm her. But she can’t hide from me anymore – not with her blood flowing through my veins, not with our souls inexorably linked.
“The sphere!” Evelyn’s voice cuts through my daze. She’s practically vibrating with agitation, her usual composure cracking. “Where is it?”
“Crystal sphere?” I say. “About this size?” I indicate with my fingers. “Purple power inside.”
“That’s the one.” She nods vigorously.
I grimace. “Lucien had it while he was…working me over.” I glance around at the carnage of battle. Glass, plaster, and splintered wood surround us, but nothing looks like it could be the remnants of that sphere. “He probably took it with him if it was important.”
“Oh, it was important all right.” The matriarch sets her jaw. “We need it back.”
“But, Gran—” Rowan starts.
“We need to save Poppy!” Evelyn interrupts her.
“Well, of course we do, Gran.” Mia steps in. “But first, we need to get you home. You’ve survived an absolute nightmare. You need rest.”
Morgan steps forward, frowning. “Dame Blackwood, surely a familiar isn’t our priority right now—”
“You fool,” Evelyn snaps, her eyes flashing. “You have no idea what’s at stake. What’s inside is…unthinkable.”
Shadowmaster blinks at her, bewildered. I’m guessing that not a lot of people talk to him that way.
“If it made him so strong, why didn’t he stay to face us?” Rowan asks.
“The power in it is sensitive. Difficult to control. He could have channeled that energy against one, but a group?” She shakes her. “He knew it was too risky.”
“So he ran. The coward,” Darick sneers.
“Tactical retreat,” Morgan observes coolly. “Classic Marlowe. He never stays to finish a fight if there’s any risk to himself.”
“Mother, please sit down.” Lake moves to support Evelyn, who’s grown increasingly pale. “You’re not fully recovered—”
“Don’t patronize me!” Evelyn shrugs off his hand. “You don’t understand. That sphere— We have to recover it immediately. Poppy’s life depends on it.”
“Gran,” Mia says gently, “I know you care about Poppy, but surely—”
“No!” Evelyn’s voice cracks sharply. “You don’t know what this means. That sphere contains—” She stops abruptly, swaying slightly.
Several people move to steady her, but she waves them off, her green eyes bright with an almost feverish light. The usually composed matriarch looks close to breaking point, and I can sense Kara’s growing concern.
Before any of us can react, Evelyn straightens, power crackling around her like lightning. The sheer force of her magic makes my skin prickle – I’ve never felt anything quite like it from a witch, not even Kara at her strongest.
“Mother, don’t—” Lake reaches for her, but she’s already moving.
With shocking speed for someone who, moments ago, could barely stand, Evelyn throws up her hands. The gallery walls themselves seem to ripple as her power surges outward. Glass cases shatter, artwork goes flying, and a path clears before her as if carved by an invisible blade.
“Gran!” Kara lurches forward, but I catch her arm, steadying her weakened form. I can feel her fear for her grandmother mixing with awe at this display of raw power.
“Stay back,” Evelyn commands, her voice resonating with authority. Her hair whirls around her face as she strides forward, tracking Lucien’s path like a hunting hound on a scent. “I won’t let him keep her. Not again.”
Before anyone can stop her, she’s racing down the cleared path, moving with impossible speed. Morgan curses eloquently in what sounds like ancient Greek. Darick’s already moving to follow, and Soren’s right behind him.
“Well?” Selene snaps at me. “Are you coming, or are you going to stand there holding hands all night?”
I glance down at where I’m still gripping Kara’s arm. She pulls away, color rising in her cheeks. “Go,” she says. “I’ll catch up once—”
“Like hell you will,” I start, but she’s already stepping back, letting her sister support her.
“Marcus.” Darick’s voice carries that edge of command that reminds me why he led our clan for so long. “We need to move. Now.”
With a last look at Kara, I fall in with the pursuit group. Ahead of us, Evelyn’s power leaves a trail like the aurora borealis, lighting our way through the devastated gallery.
We burst into the gallery’s central atrium, a vast circular space ringed with shattered display cases.
Lucien stands beneath the domed skylight, moonlight casting his shadow in multiple directions across the floor.
The sphere pulses in his grip, its purple energy casting an eerie glow across his features.
“I wondered when you’d catch up,” he drawls, but his eyes widen slightly at the sight of me fully healed. I feel a surge of satisfaction at his surprise.
Before any of us can move, Evelyn pushes past, radiating power. I’ve seen many formidable witches in my centuries, but nothing like this. The very air seems to bend around her as she advances.
“Give her back,” Evelyn demands, her voice resonating with otherworldly force.
Lucien’s smirk falters. “Dame Blackwood, surely we can discuss—”
The blast of power from Evelyn’s outstretched hands cuts him off, slamming into an invisible barrier around him. The sphere flares brighter as he channels its energy into his defense.
I dart forward with vampire speed, trying to flank him while he’s focused on Evelyn. Soren mirrors my movement from the opposite side. But Lucien’s barrier expands, throwing us back.
Sorcery crackles through the atrium as Evelyn launches another assault. The force of it shatters every remaining display case. Lucien staggers but maintains his grip on the sphere, which now pulses erratically.
A crack appears in its surface.
“Stop!” Lucien shouts, real fear in his voice. “You’ll destroy it!”
“Better destroyed than in your hands,” Evelyn snarls, power gathering around her like a storm.
The crack in the sphere spreads, purple light spilling from the fissure. The energies in the room become erratic, whipping around us like a tempest. I can feel the building pressure of power, taste the electricity in the air.
Lucien’s eyes dart between us, calculating. The sphere in his hands continues to fracture, hairline cracks spreading across its surface like a spiderweb.
I watch in horror as Lucien suddenly shifts, moving with blinding speed, even by vampire standards.
One moment, he’s cornered, the next he has Evelyn by the throat, her feet dangling above the marble floor.
The sphere pulses brighter in his other hand, its purple light casting grotesque shadows across his triumphant face.
“Enough games,” he snarls. His fingers tighten around Evelyn’s throat. Despite her previous display of power, she seems frail now, her burst of strength evidently depleted. Her days in captivity must have weakened her.
I lunge forward but slam into his magical barrier again. Beside me, Soren throws himself against it repeatedly, his face contorted with rage. Darick’s attempting to breach it from another angle, but nothing penetrates.