Chapter 4
Chapter Four
NIKO
As his blade pierced Gadreel’s chest, triumph swept through Niko’s body.
When last they’d met, the demon had mocked him, taunting Niko with how he planned to deceive all of Iriska and steal Katerina away.
He’d reveled in Niko’s helplessness, taken joy in his pain.
And now, the Scourge of the Demon Realms was at a Shadow’s mercy, silver-blue blood bubbling up around the point of a blessed blade.
Katerina was screaming his name, her tone pitched high with warning, but Niko didn’t look away from his prey. What could be more important than this?
“You are a fool,” Gadreel panted. “If you kill me, how will you discover how to contain the Darkness that plagues both our realms?” He gripped Niko’s wrist, tugging him closer.
“The same Darkness lives within you; I can feel it. Kill me, and you lose your best chance to free yourself from its clutches.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Niko spat, twisting out of his grip. Demons were liars; who knew that better than he? Gadreel would say anything, if it meant that he would live.
The knife had wounded Gadreel, but it wouldn’t hold him forever.
If Niko shifted into the form of his black dog, he could rip out the demon’s throat and finish him once and for all.
But as he gathered himself, ignoring the uneasy sensation of not-rightness that had grown stronger since his first Change back on this side of the Veil, a cold, implacable grip took hold of his upper arms. It tugged him back from Gadreel, wrapping around his chest, holding him still.
The more he thrashed and fought, the more it tightened.
He looked down, already knowing what he would see.
The shades that had drained the life from Dimi Assol had hold of him.
He braced, waiting for the Darkness to devour him, to suck the vitality from his veins the way they had with the children they’d plucked from the houses that bordered the square, like wine from a punctured skin.
If Katerina had to watch such a thing, what would it do to her?
He’d been telling her the truth when he said he didn’t think he was capable of dying; but watching his earthly body shrivel and his soul return to the Underworld would be agonizing for her.
She was shrieking his name now, and he tried to turn, to look at her, but the shades held him fast. A few feet away, Gadreel sat up, pulling the knife from his chest and dropping it to the grass with disdain.
He would heal the damage Niko had done to him, where a weaker demon could not.
And then what, with Niko banished to the Underworld once more?
What would become of his Dimi, who’d braved a demon realm to save him? What would become of Kalach?
Instinctively, he reached for his pack—the fellow Shadows who had been at his back for his entire life, his brothers-in-arms. He’d always been able to visualize their mutual bonds, the way he could picture his bond to Katerina.
Since becoming alpha, that vision had shifted; in his mind’s eye, he’d become the center of a wheel, with his bonds to his pack members the spokes.
Together, they’d formed a cohesive, powerful whole.
In the past, when one of his Shadows was wounded, Niko had felt it.
If the wound was grave, or if, Saints forbid, the Shadow died, the spoke that connected them would shudder and fray.
But when he’d killed the demon to save Alexei, he’d felt only his own rage and determination.
And now, as he looked inward, seeking strength in his bonds to his pack, he felt and saw…
nothing. The place where his pack bonds had lived was hollow, empty.
And across the ravine, no black dogs howled at the sight of their alpha’s fate.
He was truly alone.
Tensing every muscle in his body, Niko dragged himself to his feet. The tendrils of Darkness grew heavier by the moment, like iron chains holding him down, but he resisted their pull, straining against it. Pack bonds or no, alpha or not, he had made Katerina a promise. He would not fail her again.
There was only one path left to him.
And so he did the unthinkable—the urge that had been gnawing at the edge of his consciousness since he’d taken his first step through Kalach’s gates. He delved into his still, calm center, the place he’d been trained to access to channel his Shadow gifts, knowing full well what he would find.
Normally, his mental image of this chamber glowed with Light, an ember aflame at his core. Now, a midnight-black vein of glittering ore ran through it. He visualized the ore, focused on it. And then he opened himself to the Dark.
It was easier than he’d imagined, simpler than breathing.
The vein of ore ran deep, and it recognized its kin.
Focusing the way he had when he’d learned to channel Light in battle, he called to the tendrils of Darkness that restrained him, summoning them.
They faded, not falling away from his body but somehow sinking into him, beneath the surface of his skin.
The terrible pressure on his lungs and limbs eased as they retreated, and he gasped for air. A moment later, they were gone.
Niko lifted his head, panting. He was alive; he was whole.
Or not quite—inside him, the Darkness was stronger than it had been before, more present.
He could feel it warring with his Light, fighting for dominance within his soul.
It was an awful, disorienting sensation, a betrayal of his covenant with the Light and his vows.
But what had the alternative been—die like Assol and the children?
Abandon the Dimi and the village he was sworn to protect?
Afraid to look, he lifted his gaze toward Katerina.
She was staring at him, mouth agape, shock stamped on every feature—whether because he wasn’t dead or because of the manner of his survival, he couldn’t tell.
Shame suffused his body, for surely now she realized what lurked inside him.
Surely now, she would regret her choice and turn away.
Grief built within him, an all-consuming force. But he knew, now, what was possible, no matter the cost. And knowing, how could he fail to act on it?
He spared a glance for Gadreel. The demon knelt, hands pressed to his bloodied chest, trying to regain his strength. If Niko were going to do this, this was the moment.
Across the ravine, Gadreel’s army still battled the Dimis and Shadows, along with the occasional intrepid villager. Where were the Druzhina? They must have traveled with the Kniaz, believing him to be the true nobleman and not Gadreel’s puppet. Why had they not come to Kalach’s defense?
The village’s warriors might have been able to hold their own, were it not for the avid tendrils of Darkness that ensnared their ankles and licked at their blessed blades, threatening them with the same fate that had befallen Assol.
Inspired by Katerina, the firewitches had summoned a blaze that drove the shades back, but they were tiring; they couldn’t keep it up forever.
Commending his soul to the Light, Niko opened himself once more and beckoned the tendrils of Darkness to him.
And Saints help him, they came—streaming above the river of Light, as if borne on an unholy wind.
They came, and he held, and they sank into him as if coming home, plunging deep into the ever-widening vein of ore inside him.
Their touch was frigid and blazing at once, like plunging his hands deep into a snowbank.
It was agony, but still he didn’t let go, not until he’d rid Kalach of every reaching, curling shadow.
The demons roared with rage, but not Gadreel. The Dark Angel of War regarded Niko from his position on the grass, and, Saints damn him, he was—smiling.
“To me!” It was Baba Petrova, who had emerged from the chaos to stand amongst the warriors she commanded. “Windwitches of Kalach, now is your time!”
She raised her hands, directing her forces like the conductor of the symphony Niko had seen once in Rivki, when he and Katerina had brought the tithe. Exhausted though they must be, the Dimis fought to obey.
One by one, the demons rose from the ground. Their bodies hovered, drifting, before Katerina added her magic to the fray. She drew deep on their shared strength, reaching down the bond for her tie to his Shadow gifts to give her the edge she needed.
For an instant, Niko hesitated, afraid the Darkness within him would flow outward to her, corrupting her.
He felt her bewilderment at his resistance flow down the bond as she tugged harder, and right or wrong, he’d never been able to deny her anything.
He let her take what she needed, and together with the other Dimis, she blasted every demon standing in Kalach into the flowing river.
They howled and shrieked as they sank, the Light incinerating them as Baba had intended.
Gadreel’s army burned, and Katerina turned her sights on their leader. She lifted her hands, and Niko didn’t need to hear her mind-voice to know her thoughts: Finally. Now, you will die.
But it was not to be. Gadreel staggered to his feet, sickly-sweet blood still dripping between the fingers pressed to his chest. Then, with one last covetous look at Katerina, the Dark Angel of War unfolded his wings, releasing them from their glamour, and took flight above the trees, silhouetted against the moon like a monstrous bird before he disappeared from sight.