Chapter 18 #2
I laugh weakly. “Absolutely not. Not this time.”
Belvedere raises his hand, and the air tightens around Jonah. An invisible force crushes inward. Jonah’s ribs bow under the pressure. Blood spills from his mouth as he falls.
I scream and hurl everything I have left. Energy explodes from my palms and slams into Belvedere’s side, forcing him off balance. I follow it, plunging my dagger deep into his back between two ribs while he’s distracted.
He reacts faster than I thought possible. His hand shoots backward and punches clean through my rib cage.
For a moment, I don’t understand what’s happened. I feel pressure before pain, his arm buried inside me, fingers curling somewhere near my spine. My breath vanishes. My vision fractures.
He withdraws his hand.
Blood pours down my stomach, hot and unstoppable. My legs collapse beneath me. I fall to my knees, hands instinctively pressing against the wound as if I can force myself to stay inside my own body.
As I kneel on the jagged concrete, memories flicker through my vision. Jonah hoarding me in his bed. Feeding me. His hands smoothing over Batibat’s fur. I think of him tucking me under the duvet, asking if he could keep me.
Belvedere turns fully now, his expression sharpened with ancient fury. He backhands me across the face hard enough to send me skidding across the pavement. My skull strikes concrete, and the world dissolves into agonizing pain.
Jonah roars. He collides with Belvedere again, claws tearing, horns lowered, his entire body driven by something feral and absolute. He drives Belvedere into the opposite wall, bricks exploding outward. His hands glow brighter now, feeding, ripping rot away in violent surges.
Belvedere retaliates by grabbing Jonah’s horns and slamming his head repeatedly into the wall. The sound is sickening; bone and stone cracking together. He twists and drives his hand straight through Jonah’s abdomen.
Jonah gasps.
The sound is small. Devastating.
Belvedere pulls his arm free and flings Jonah aside like discarded fabric. He lands somewhere near me, blood pooling beneath him, his breath shallow and uneven.
I drag myself toward him, leaving a smear behind me. Every movement tears the wound wider. My vision pulses at the edges.
Belvedere approaches, limping slightly now, suit ruined, face streaked with blood and fury.
“You cannot protect each other,” he says calmly. “You are both dying.”
He lifts his hand.
My magic answers faintly, flickering like a dying signal. I press my palm flat against the pavement and force the last scraps of energy into a binding word carved beneath him. The symbol ignites weakly.
Belvedere tears it apart with contemptuous ease.
Jonah shifts beside me, forcing himself onto one elbow despite the blood pouring from his body. His claws extend again, trembling violently.
“No,” I whisper.
He lunges anyway.
Belvedere catches him midair and slams him down next to me, hard enough to crack the pavement beneath us. Jonah’s body spasms, then stills except for the shallow rise of his chest.
I cannot move. My limbs are heavy and distant. Blood fills my mouth, tears warm my face.
Belvedere stands over us both now, suit torn, face streaked with blood, old and furious and very much alive. “This ends now,” he says.
I suddenly feel the slight brush of fingertips across my palm.
A soft caress, followed by a reassuring squeeze.
I don’t need to turn my head to see, and I can’t anyway, but my magic knows who it is immediately, using what’s left to reach towards him.
You’re mine, it’s trying to tell him, and I’m sorry, and it’ll be okay.
Belvedere raises his hand to finish it.
I squeeze broad, safe fingers for the last time.
And the alley fills with a new surge of power.
Five distinct magical signatures hit the space at once, braided and fierce.
My brothers’ magic crashes into the alley like a tidal wave, followed by the copper tang of Brooklyn blood magic, the cold drag of Queens shadow, the metallic bite of the Bronx, and the deep, tectonic weight of Staten Island earth.
Belvedere’s head snaps up.
Gabriel slams into him from the side, driving him off balance.
Leo and Raf follow with coordinated strikes that crackle with amplified energy.
Andres creates a new containment ring around the perimeter, reinforced by sigils from other boroughs that glow in layered patterns.
Something small shoots through the containment ring, a hummingbird made of moonlight, hitting Belvedere square in the chest, cracking bone.
The creature lands on all fours, unfolding a grin full of needle-sharp teeth.
Behind them, slayers fan out in a tight circle, magic hurtling through the air in five distinct ways, all aimed at and focused on the exact same target.
Belvedere roars as the combined magic presses inward.
I lose sight of the fight as darkness creeps into my vision.
Jonah’s hand is still in mine. His grip is weak but present.
We lie there, bleeding out side by side while the alley explodes in power around us, and for this terrible suspended moment it feels like Belvedere might rise above all of it.
I squeeze Jonah’s fingers once more. If this is where it ends, I want him to know I chose him.
Tears stream down the side of my face, mixing with blood.
I’m not sure if he’ll hear me, but I’m not sure I can speak loudly enough for him to hear.
“I hate,” I manage to whisper, with great effort, “that we only had eighty-four hours together.”
A wet, shuddering breath from beside me. “I’ve loved you since the very first.”
Then, black.