Chapter 6
Chapter Six
NIKO
The former alpha Shadow of Kalach sat beneath the shelter of a rowan tree in the clearing where he and Katerina had sought shelter for the night, arms wrapped around his knees, and contemplated his ruination.
He didn’t know what hurt the most: seeing Kalach in shambles; the way all of the villagers had regarded him as if he were poison; the shame of banishment; or the loss of his pack.
He should have realized that Dimi Petrova had elected a new alpha in his absence.
Someone had to hold the pack, and it only made sense for it to be Alexei.
Niko loved his fellow Shadow like a brother, and Alexei had served as a loyal second.
He was the logical choice. But a black dog without his pack was the equivalent of a lone wolf.
He drew power from his brothers-in-arms, as much as he did from his Dimi and the Light.
And now, apparently, from the Darkness.
What was he? What had happened tonight, when he drove Gadreel and his minions back?
How had he absorbed the Darkness into himself, and where had it gone?
Would it continue eating away at him, gnawing and gobbling until there was nothing left but a gibbering agent of the Dark?
And worse, would the corruption seep along the bond he shared with Katerina, infecting her along with him?
He could feel it inside him, flickering alongside the spark that was his Light. It had used him tonight, even as he had used it. He had helped; he had driven the Darkness back and saved Kalach. But at what cost?
A full-body shudder racked him, and Katerina, who had been pacing the clearing, came to a halt in front of him.
They hadn’t bothered to light rowan-fires when they’d chosen a place to camp for the night, the way they had on their way back from Rivki months ago.
Then, keeping the demons away had mattered more than anything else.
Now, the Darkness was here, with them, and there was no use pretending otherwise.
Besides, the last thing they needed was to call attention to themselves.
Gadreel was still out there somewhere, hunting Katerina, and once word got out that the Kniaz was dead, Saints knew who else would be on their heels.
Terrified people loved a scapegoat, someone to pin the blame on so they didn’t have to look too closely at their own doings—or so they could lay their heads on the pillow at night, believing themselves safe.
When Baba and the Elders had refused to so much as hear Katerina out tonight, he’d known the village would turn against them.
His Dimi could have chosen safety. Refuge.
And yet she’d chosen him, the way she had in the Underworld.
She hadn’t even entertained the notion that he was less than what he had been…
that he was evil, unclean. And Saints damn him, he’d been too weak to walk away, even if he knew staying could only break her heart.
Sitting cross-legged beneath the rowan, she gave him a strained smile. “What are you thinking?”
He cleared his throat once, twice. “You don’t want to know.”
His Dimi frowned. “Tell me you’re not sitting here, flagellating yourself for what happened tonight. Their ignorance isn’t your fault, Niko. They—they once treated me much the same.” She bit her lip, then came out with it. “They stoned me, when you died.”
His head jerked up, fury etched in every feature. “They what?”
“Ana saved me.” She managed a small smile.
“But my point is, I didn’t deserve it, any more than you do now.
I thought I did, but I was wrong. All of this is Gadreel’s doing, not yours or mine.
And one day, we’ll make them see it. Until then, we just need to get to the Magiya and free you from this curse. ”
Niko’s nails dug into his palms until they drew blood. Within him, the Darkness rose, hungry and eager, and with an effort, he fought it back. “If I’d known what they did to you,” he snarled, “I would not have spared so many of them tonight. Bastards and fools, the lot of them.”
Katerina snorted. “Maybe not all of them. I can think of a few worth keeping.”
He drew a deep breath, in an effort to steady himself, and changed the subject, lest he charge back into the village and make good on his word.
“Gadreel called you Little Firebird.” That had haunted Niko since the Dark Angel of War uttered the words.
It had been Katerina’s father’s nickname for her, his term of endearment, both for the blaze of her hair and of her magic. “How did he know?”
His Dimi’s gaze dropped to the ground. “I have no idea. Unless…maybe my mother’s death wasn’t random. Maybe he’d been stalking her, or spying on us somehow. Maybe he anticipated he’d need me some day, like a spare part.”
Her shoulders hunched, and the pain of her loss echoed in Niko’s own chest. “I should have ripped out his tongue by the roots rather than stabbing him in the heart,” he muttered. “Death would’ve been too good for him.”
To his surprise, Katerina laughed. It was a bright, chiming sound, at odds with the growing gloom, and his eyes widened in startlement. “What?” he said.
“Nothing. It’s just good to have a champion again.” She smiled at him with so much genuine affection, his eyes stung. “Even one who takes such pleasure in dismemberment.”
Despite himself, Niko smiled back at her. “I will always fight for you.”
Silence settled between them, more comfortable than before.
Katerina broke it. “Well, the fighting’s done, for now.
We’re here, my Shadow. We survived. We’re together.
Tomorrow is a new day, but for tonight…” She ran a languid hand through her hair, working through the tangles, and looked up at him from beneath her lashes.
“Perhaps we can finish what we started earlier, to pass the time.”
Was she flirting with him, after all that had transpired? “You’re in the mood for that?” he queried, just to be certain.
His Dimi shrugged, giving him the arrogant smirk he’d missed so much. “Well, they do say that, after a fight, Shadows seek release in a bottle or a lover’s bed.”
Amused, he quirked an eyebrow, remembering the last time she’d said those words to him. Then, she’d lobbed them at him in fury, an accusation. And in return, he had bared his heart and knelt at her feet, then claimed her body with a ferocity that had marked them both.
“Do they now,” he said, his voice husky.
A flush rose on Katerina’s cheeks, and he was sure she was recalling the same thing: the way she’d pressed her hand to his Mark, unraveling his control with a single touch; the way he’d worshiped every inch of her as her magic caressed his skin.
She tilted her head, looking up at him from beneath her lashes. “We haven’t so much as a dram at our disposal. And I have no bed to offer you,” she said, gesturing at the leaves on which they sat. “But perhaps you’d be amenable to an alternative.”
She reached for him, and by the Saints, he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in her body.
To sink into the only place where he’d truly felt he belonged, more than Kalach or Iriska or even his pack.
He wanted to feel her heat clutching at him, her nails scoring his back, her breath heating his skin.
More than anything else, he wanted to feel her love.
Maybe in her arms, he could forget, at least for a little while, what he’d become.
But how could she forget? How could she ever accept him now?
You are nothing, Elena’s voice snarled inside his head. Nothing but what I made of you.
She’d said it again and again, when he refused to do her bidding. Was he to be haunted by her still, even here, aboveground where she couldn’t follow?
Inside him, his black dog growled, sensing a threat. But the Vila was mere voice and vapor. The dog was a creature of action, and there was nothing for it to kill.
Rage and despair pulsed through their bond, and Katerina winced. “I can imagine what you’re thinking of, but you’re here, with me. You are safe now.”
His Dimi’s voice was soft, careful. He’d never heard her speak to anyone this way before, and certainly not him, as if he were fragile, to be safeguarded.
Self-hatred spiraled inside him. How had it come to this: coddled like a child, huddled in the woods outside the village he’d laid down his life to protect over and over again?
“Tell me what’s troubling you, Niko, beyond what happened in Kalach tonight.” She cupped his face in her hands, and it was all he could do not to jerk away. “Talk to me, so we can work through this together.”
He shook his head, not wanting to speak. Words had power, and once loosed in the world, they could take shape and form. Elena had taught him that well enough. Crawl to me, my Shadow. Worship me. Tell me I am your queen and you will never love another.
He hadn’t wanted to do it. Every inch of him had recoiled.
But in the end, he had crawled, as she’d demanded.
Heedless of the splinters in that cursed cottage’s floor that stabbed his skin and the shards of agony that pierced his heart, he had crawled to her on his hands and knees and done exactly what she demanded.
Bile had risen in his throat and sickness had permeated every inch of his body, but Saints help him, he had obeyed.
Touch me or I will find a way to hurt her, she’d snarled at him when he faltered. Pretend I am her and I will know. And when he’d closed his eyes, desperate to escape, to believe he was somewhere, anywhere else, she’d forced them open. Look at me. See me. Worship me until I scream your name.