Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
SEB
“Noooo!” I stand in my cell and instinctively cross my arms in front of my face against the dome of blue light Jeremy throws in my direction.
My ring finger burns hot as the ring Zoe placed on it glows to life like a small sun.
White light clashes with blue, sending it coursing around me as if I’m in a bubble.
Unfortunately, it also collides with Zoe—the golden, translucent version of her I thought was an angel when she slipped the ring onto my finger.
I breathe a sigh of relief when the portal closes with her safely on the other side. I’m alone with Jeremy.
The witch’s eyes widen when he realizes the gift Zoe gave me.
He raises his ring, his lips drawing back from his teeth.
A bolt of blue lightning flies at me, and I step out of its path.
My feet splash in my own blood as I grab the bars of my cell with the hand wearing the golden ring.
The blue metal turns to ordinary steel with a zap.
My gaze connects with Jeremy’s, and a grin spreads across my face. He runs.
With one slam of my shoulder, I bend the bars and send plaster raining down from the ceiling.
Another slam, and the door topples and I’m out.
I bound after him, noting the terror in his eyes as I easily catch up with him and knock him to the floor.
He tries to raise that fucking ring again, but I partially shift my hand into talons and hack it off at the wrist.
The ring and the hand it’s attached to flop onto the concrete, blood blooming against the gray. Jeremy howls in pain, and I shove my knee into the center of his chest. “That was for the blood you took from me,” I hiss, more dragon than man.
I lift the ring and concentrate. Dagger. What do you know? The metal obeys. The hilt of a gold dagger slides into my palm. I flip it so that the blade is facing his chest.
“Please—” Jeremy sputters, slapping at me with his good hand. “I can help you. If you kill me, you’ll never heal Zoe. You have no idea what she did to herself to bring that ring to you. She’ll die without my help.”
I narrow my eyes and think about that for a second. But I can’t trust a thing this asshole says. He’s not the only fucking witch either. “Your filthy magic will never touch my mate,” I seethe. “This is for Zoe.”
I sink the gold blade into his heart. He makes a gagging sound and then releases a long breath. I watch the light leave his eyes.
I don’t bother closing them as I stand and move toward the stairs, my dagger morphing back into a ring. Nice. She did it. It works exactly as intended. I can’t wait to tell my brilliant mate that she succeeded.
But at what cost?
I climb toward a door, my dragon’s roar in my head. We’re worried for Zoe, but right now, that worry is laser focused on getting home to her, and that means going through whatever is on the other side of the door above me.
No surprise that it’s locked. I back up a few steps and throw my shoulder into it, knocking it down and bursting onto the main floor. I’m in a house, but not one I recognize. A servant at the end of the hall sees me and screams. She disappears.
And then the fools rush in.
Blue weapons sprout from their rings, filling their hands with swords and spears and crossbows. I don’t have time for this shit. My mate needs me.
I shift into my dragon form, and it ain’t pretty.
We take down walls and collapse floors on our way through the men.
I flatten one under my foot, noticing the gold ring still around the talon of my paw, and laugh a fiery laugh.
Drawing a deep breath into my lungs, I blow fire as arrows bounce harmlessly off my scales.
One man manages to slide into the rubble behind me and sinks a cursed blade into my hip.
I yelp. With a simple shift of my body, I flatten him against the rubble.
He pops like a balloon. I smash my way out the front door, just as my dragon shifts back into my human form.
I glance down to see that the blade is still protruding from my hip and reach down to yank it out.
The wound feels like ice, so cold it burns, and blue veins spread from it like flower petals, but the celestial water in my veins must be working because I’m still moving.
“Sebastian York,” a voice dark and slippery as motor oil calls from the house. “Current head of the Zodiac Brotherhood, if I remember my astrology. Although I never put much stock in fairy tales about the sky. You wouldn’t leave without speaking to me, would you?”
I whirl to find Roman Cifarelli striding toward me.
My wings unfurl from my back, and my hands ball into fists.
But I wince when I see the man who used to be the handsome, playboy son of Stephen Ciferelli.
He’s badly scarred by burns that run up one side of his body, his hair missing on the left side of his head.
And the scar from Connor’s claws is three raised white ridges that span his neck, each with the tattered edge that comes from a severe wound.
“How are you still alive?” I sputter. “We watched you die.”
He snorts, a crossbow forming in his hands, and he levels the bolt on my chest. “There’s something you should know about me, dragon. I do the killing. I don’t do the dying.”
The bolt flies, and I cross my arms in front of my chest in the same motion I did in the dungeon, praying it has the same effect. The ring does not fail me. Golden light arcs, shielding me. The bolt falls harmlessly between us.
Roman’s eyes widen.
“That’s right, scumbag. Your little gift from the destroyer isn’t quite so gifty anymore.”
I find I still can’t fully shift, thanks to the wound in my hip, but that’s okay. This guy is going down if I have to do it with my own two hands. My ring morphs into a glowing golden longsword. I advance.
Roman’s crossbow changes into a sword to match my own, although his is that deadly shade of blue. His gaze sinks to my injured hip. “Whatever gift the creator gave you, it won’t protect you from the poison of my blade.” He grins and repositions his feet, ready to engage.
Behind him, flames plume from the rubble that was once a mansion, toward the starry skies above. I point my chin at Roman, wanting to distract him more than anything. “Aren’t you concerned about your people burning to death?”
“Not as concerned as you should be about that spreading rot in your hip.”
I don’t make the mistake of looking at my wound, and it’s a good thing because his sword slices toward my neck. I block it, and the clash of enchanted steel against steel sends sparks flying and our swords ricocheting in opposite directions.
Diametrically opposed.
“Do you even know how to fight with a broadsword?” Roman taunts. He has no idea that every Zodiac brother has studied swordplay. I have years of practice with this weapon, and a dragon’s strength and instincts too.
He settles into ochs, the point of his sword threatening me from high guard.
I smirk. “Enough to take off your head.” I counter with plow guard, blade low but poised, feet light on the grassy lawn.
The first exchange comes in a blur. Roman slices down with an oberhau, forcing me to parry with my hilt held low near my hip.
Sparks leap as our weapons collide again, and I groan as the hilt drives into my wound.
My dragon growls in pain, but I immediately counter with a cross-strike, my blade sweeping horizontally toward Roman’s temple.
“Fast, but sloppy,” Roman barks, blocking my blow again.
I snort. “If there’s one thing a Taurus never is, it’s sloppy,” I shoot back.
Roman lunges again, this time feinting high before driving up toward my ribs. I meet it with a sliding parry, then bind our swords together, the blades sparking like two live wires between us.
“You’re exhausted. Drained of blood and infected with the power of the destroyer. You know you can’t last long like this, Sebastian. Yield. I’d hate to have to kill you when your blood is so highly in demand,” Roman says through clenched teeth.
“You’ll have to kill me, Roman, or I’m taking you out. And this time, I’ll make sure you’re dead.” I twist my wrists, disengaging, and thrust toward Roman’s heart. The point enters his flesh, but Roman rotates away before I can pierce his rib cage.
He roars, and veins of light branch under his shirt, originating from the wound, but he does not lower his defenses. We circle, my bare feet feeling steady, grounded. He will pay for what my mate suffered. What she will suffer.
He’s breathing hard, sweat cutting channels through dust on his face.
“It seems that my blade carries a different poison, and it’s spreading fast, Roman.”
In fact, I can see the branching light all the way down his torso now.
This isn’t a battle of swords; it’s a battle of magic, a battle of rings.
He makes a choking sound, and his sword lowers as his eyelids flutter.
I take the opening. I attack. This time, I don’t aim for his neck or his heart, but his wrists.
I take off both his hands in a single blow and watch as the sword disappears and his clenched fists roll across the grass.
This time, Roman screams. He collapses onto his back, his arms trembling. “Destroyer, help me!”
I raise my sword above my head, its light shining over Roman like its own sun, tingeing everything gold. I can feel the creator’s energy buzzing through me as I say, “Haven’t you learned from that face of yours, Roman, that the destroyer can only destroy? It cannot heal. It cannot create.”
He meets my eyes with his own and seethes, “Fuck you, dr—”
My blade comes down across his neck, severing it. I put so much power behind the blow, my sword lodges in the dirt. I draw it from the ground, the blade steaming. Roman’s blood burns off in white-hot flames. The sword disappears, and there is only the ring.
I look around, then search the area psychically to ensure we’re alone.
If anyone else was here, they’re gone now.
I tear off a section of Roman’s shirt and use it to gather his hand and ring from the dirt.
No way am I leaving it behind to be recycled.
I give Roman’s headless body one last kick, check the map of the stars above me, and take off toward home.