Chapter Eleven
Ezekiel called over his shoulder as he exited the room. “Cassiel! Ronen and I need our complete attention on Tanner. Get a message to Archer, tell him it’s an emergency and to bring the apprentice!”
She nodded in response, and Ronen scurried after Ezekiel. Apprentice? He’d ask later.
Once they reached the healing chamber. Ezekiel laid Tanner on the examining table. “Keep your hands and intentions on him. I need to gather my potions.”
Ezekiel worked swiftly, his hands moving between vials of glowing liquids and pouches of herbs.
The smell of lavender and sage filled the air as he mixed ingredients in his stone mortar, grinding them to a fine paste.
Ronen kept his palms pressed against Tanner's chest, focusing every ounce of his being on their bond.
“Is he going to be okay?” Ronen couldn’t keep the tremor from his voice.
“The corruption has definitely slowed,” Ezekiel replied.
“But it hasn’t stopped completely. Whatever ritual Victor started is still trying to work its way through him, and I’ve never encountered this spell before.
” Ezekiel shook his head. “It’s obviously something they concocted for their revised plan to destroy humanity with unfettered evil.
Archer’s angelic magic might be the key to eradicating this filth. ”
Tanner’s clammy skin beneath Ronen’s hands terrified him, the darkness beneath his flesh pulsing like a second heartbeat.
Each time it surged, Ronen felt a corresponding pain in his own chest, as if the corruption were attempting to break through to him as well.
His heart raced as he watched Ezekiel work, the healer’s movements assured, despite the tension in his features.
“We need to strengthen your connection even more,” Ezekiel said, bringing a bowl of glowing blue paste to the table. “This will amplify the mate bond temporarily, giving Tanner’s Nephilim essence the strength it needs to fight back.”
Ezekiel dipped his fingers into the paste and drew intricate symbols on Tanner's forehead, chest, and palms. The mixture smelled of ozone and sea salt, crackling with energy where it touched skin. When he finished, he handed the bowl to Ronen.
“Apply it to your own chest, directly over your heart,” he instructed. “Then place your hands over the matching symbols on Tanner.”
Ronen followed Ezekiel’s directions, his fingers trembling slightly as he spread the cool paste across his chest. The mixture tingled against his skin, a sensation like electricity dancing across his nerve endings.
He placed his hands on the matching symbols Ezekiel had drawn on Tanner, one over his heart and one on his forehead.
The effect was immediate and overwhelming.
A surge of energy coursed through Ronen’s arms, connecting him to Tanner in a way that transcended physical touch.
It was as if the barriers between them had dissolved, allowing him to feel every aspect of Tanner’s struggle.
The darkness writhing inside his mate made Ronen’s stomach churn with revulsion.
“Hold steady,” Ezekiel said, his voice tight. “You’re almost there.”
Ronen gasped as images flooded his mind—Tanner's memories mixing with his own. He saw Victor looming over his mate, Marianne Walker’s eyes glowing red as she chanted in an ancient language.
He experienced Tanner’s terror, as if it were his own, the same desperate struggle against the darkness that was forced into him when he was kidnapped.
“Stay with him,” Ezekiel urged, moving around the table before placing his palms on Tanner’s temples. “We’ve got this.”
The door burst open, and Cassiel rushed in. “Archer’s on his way. ETA fifteen minutes.” Her eyes widened at the sight of Tanner. “Holy shit. Is it safe for me to be around this blue stuff?”
Ezekiel heaved a sigh. “Not now, Cassiel.”
She leaned in for a closer look at Tanner. “Just saying. I don’t know what you’re doing. What if Tanner or Ronen falls madly in love with me?”
Ronen bared his teeth at her. “I wouldn’t stress about it since neither of those things will ever happen.”
Cassiel flashed a grin. “Good to see the near-death experience hasn’t changed either of you.” Ronen glared at her. “Calm down, big boy. I’ll stand in the corner while you guys work your magic.” Her features softened, and she mouthed, “Everything will be okay.”
The door flew open again, and Archer charged in with a young man at his heels. Ronen recognized Archer, Ezekiel’s mate and fellow healer, but the apprentice was new to him. A gangly youth with a shock of red hair stood frozen, holding a large leather satchel that clinked with the sound of glass.
“Don’t break the connection,” Ezekiel whispered as Archer approached. “We’ve just stabilized it.”
Archer narrowed his eyes as he gazed down at Tanner’s limp form. “Hmm… definitely demonic corruption attempting to twist Nephilim essence.” He turned to his apprentice. “Jonah, the Angelica extract. Quickly.”
The young man fumbled with the clasps of the satchel, his fingers trembling as he extracted a crystal vial filled with golden liquid. Archer snatched it from him, uncorking the small bottle.
“This will amplify the healing properties of your paste,” Archer explained to Ezekiel, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation. “But time is running out. The corruption is trying to adapt.”
Ronen swallowed past a lump in his throat. “Don’t you dare leave me,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Victor has been destroyed. You’re safe now.”
Archer poured the golden liquid into a shallow silver bowl, the substance shimmering like liquid sunlight. Archer furrowed his brow. “It appears the corruption has shifted. It’s targeting the child. Using the innocent life as a conduit to transform both parent and offspring.”
A cold terror gripped Ronen’s heart. Their child—the physical manifestation of their bond—was being used as a weapon against them. He pressed his hands more firmly against Tanner’s skin, willing his very soul into his mate.
“Can you save them both?”
He could barely push out the words. Archer exchanged a glance with Ezekiel, something unspoken seeming to pass between them. The silence stretched for what felt like an eternity to Ronen. His heart thundered as he waited for an answer, any answer that might offer hope.
“We’ll do our best,” Archer finally said. “But you must understand—this type of darkness is unlike anything we’ve encountered before. It's targeting the unborn child specifically because of its dual nature—half Nephilim, half gargoyle.”
Ronen could no longer hold back his tears. “Do whatever it takes. Please.”
Archer nodded grimly, then turned to his apprentice. “Jonah, the silver knife."
The young man retrieved an ornate blade from the satchel, its edge gleaming unnaturally bright in the chamber’s dim light.
Archer accepted it with reverence, then dipped it into the golden liquid.
The blade absorbed the shimmering substance, the metal taking on an ethereal glow that pulsed in rhythm with Tanner’s heartbeat.
“This will be painful,” Archer warned, his face grim as he approached the table. “For both of you.”
Ronen nodded, his jaw clenched. “I don’t care. Just save them.”
Archer positioned himself at Tanner's side, the glowing knife held steady in his hand. “I need to cut through the corruption directly. The blade will seek out the darkness and burn it away, but the process...” He hesitated, his eyes meeting Ronen’s. “It will feel like fire in his veins.”
“Do it.” His voice came out stronger than he felt.
Ezekiel placed a steadying hand on Ronen’s shoulder. “Brace yourself.” Archer didn’t hesitate. He pressed the glowing blade against Tanner's abdomen directly over where their child grew. The knife didn’t cut the skin—instead, it sank through as if Tanner’s flesh were water, leaving no wound behind.
Pain exploded in Ronen’s body. White-hot agony seared through his veins, a burning inferno that started in his core and radiated outward. He gritted his teeth, refusing to break contact with Tanner despite the overwhelming urge to recoil.
Through their connection, he experienced Tanner’s consciousness flare with pain—a silent scream that reverberated through their bond.
“Hold him steady,” Archer commanded, as he guided the blade deeper. “We’re close. I refuse to allow these evil fuckers to win.”
Archer’s words struck Ronen like a physical blow.
His emotions had been in charge, holding him in a grip of fear.
His lack of control had given Victor the upper hand and interfered with his ability to help guide Tanner back to the light.
But not anymore. His spirit rejected the fear of failure, embracing the conviction that evil would never prevail.
Ronen channeled all his strength into that belief, sending it through their connection as a lifeline for Tanner to grasp. “I’m here with you,” he whispered. “We’re stronger than this darkness."
Through the pain, Ronen sensed a flicker of response—Tanner’s consciousness reaching back toward him, faint but fighting. The darkness recoiled from the blade, writhing like a wounded animal.
“There,” Archer murmured, his face shining with sweat. “The corruption is retreating from the child. Now we must purge it from Tanner completely.” Archer’s hands remained steady as he guided the glowing weapon, his forehead beading with sweat. “The hold on your child is weakening.”
Through their bond, Ronen noticed a flutter—faint but unmistakable. This was the essence of their child, still fighting, still alive.
“I can feel our baby,” Ronen gasped.
Ezekiel nodded, smiling. “Your baby is fighting alongside us. Nephilim essence is stronger than they anticipated.”
The knife in Archer’s hand glowed brighter, its light spreading through Tanner's body. The balance had tipped as light overwhelmed shadow.
“It’s working,” Ezekiel breathed, his hand still on Archer’s shoulder.
Jonah hurried around the table, setting up crystal vials in a circular pattern around them. “The containment field is ready.”