Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
NIKO
The world contorted, squeezing the breath from his lungs. His Dimi clung to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, afraid she would be torn from him, into the stomach-churning vortex that threatened to rip them apart.
And then, with no ceremony whatsoever, it spat them out.
They landed, with a thud that shook Niko to the bone, and Katerina squirmed free.
He blinked, struggling to open his eyes, and found her retching on hands and knees.
Above them, the portal had vanished, sealing the fire and the Dark Angel of War away with it.
His Dimi wiped a hand across her mouth and fought her way to her feet. “Ana?” she whispered, her throat raw from smoke and screaming. “Sofi?”
“Here.” Giving Niko a wary glance, Ana stepped forward and squeezed Katerina’s shoulder. She was smudged with soot all over, as if she’d rolled in it. “We’re all here, Katerina, but—”
“Where is here?” Katerina finished.
Niko suppressed the memory of the shades’ icy grip, the sensation of falling into the deepest cavern of himself, only to have Katerina drag him back again. With an effort, he focused, taking in their surroundings.
They stood in a breathtaking library, its vaulted ceilings and ornate shelves evoking what the Magiya must have looked like, before a slaughter and an inferno had ravaged its hallowed halls.
Wall-mounted sconces spilled flickering yellow light into the room, bathing it in a warm glow.
But his initial relief at not finding himself in a fresh hellscape drained away when he glanced down at the polished floorboards.
The six of them stood in the middle of a vast circle of runes, etched into the wood.
These were binding sigils. Sammael had used them in the Underworld, when he’d contained and tortured his minions for entertainment.
A low, menacing growl rose in Niko’s throat.
Alexei and Damien echoed him, still in the form of their black dogs.
Blood seeped from Damien’s injured leg, and Niko swallowed hard at the sight.
He had killed the bastard responsible, he was sure of it.
But when he tried to picture it, the scene dissolved into the cold, red haze that had consumed him when the hellhounds had attacked.
He recalled only flashes—except for binding the Dark Angel of War.
That, he remembered. And Katerina’s hands on his face, her voice in his mind, calling him home.
Yet again, she had saved him. Even when he had lost all belief in himself, she refused to give up on him. He didn’t know whether to shake her or kiss her until neither of them could breathe. Maybe both, for he never imagined he’d have the chance to touch her again.
Well, they had escaped. But where were they? Could they leave this cursed circle?
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a silver barrier of runes ignited, stretching all the way to the ceiling.
Niko reached out to touch it and drew his hand back with a hiss; lightning jolted through his flesh, sizzling along his nerve endings.
He snarled, the sound scraping his smoke-roughened throat.
Had they survived a Grigori attack and a fire, only to become prey all over again?
His Dimi’s gaze flicked over the barrier, eyes narrowing in alarm. “Hello?” she called out, her voice cracking. “Can anyone hear me?”
Sofi’s hands flashed, the movements quick with worry. “In the corner,” she said, and pointed. “Look.”
From the dim space between the shelves emerged a line of robed and hooded women, each holding a lit taper.
A strange, bittersweet scent emanated from them, and try as he might, Niko couldn’t place it.
The symbols embroidered on their burgundy robes were unfamiliar, too, their lines and strokes reminiscent of those drawn in the Book of the Light, yet subtly different, the way cousins might resemble each other.
His black dog’s sixth sense, the one he relied on to detect danger, was screaming at him: whatever else these women might be, they were powerful.
They were a threat, and they had cornered him.
His shades seethed beneath the surface of his skin, wanting out, and he gritted his teeth, commanding them to bide.
To say that they hadn’t appreciated being deprived of their prey was an understatement.
Hunger boiled within him, in the bottomless seam where the Darkness lived.
Gadreel would have been such a feast, and he had been right there for the taking, the shades sliding over every inch of his skin, nibbling and licking at the Dark Angel of War, eager to devour and consume—
With an effort, he shoved the image down and away as the leader stepped up to the edge of the runes, gripping her taper in a long-fingered hand.
The flame flickered upward, revealing dark, intelligent eyes that gleamed beneath the shelter of her hood.
The rest of her features were invisible, making her expression impossible to discern. Uneasiness gripped him as she spoke.
“The Firebird and the Wolf of Shadows,” she said, nodding first at Katerina and then at Niko. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
In the name of all the Saints and demons, what now? Niko stepped in front of his Dimi, drawing a blade from his weapons belt. “Stay back.”
Inquisitive as a sparrow, the woman tilted her head. The hood fell away, revealing a walnut-brown face creased with age. “Why? What will you do? Murder us all?”
His fellow Shadows moved to flank Niko, who squared his shoulders. “How do you know us?” he demanded. “What do you mean, you’ve been waiting? And what did you call me?”
“You want answers,” the woman mused. “Well, so do we, and we intend to have them, one way or another. But first, Wolf, there is someone who wishes to speak with you.”
In the recesses of the room beyond the runes that held them prisoner, another form moved, cutting with purpose through the semi-circle of women. Niko narrowed his eyes, inhaled—and froze. Beside him, Alexei did the same.
It was impossible. Wasn’t it?
But a Shadow’s sense of smell never lied.
Katerina peered over his shoulder, trying to see what had spooked him so badly. “Niko? What’s wrong?”
The words caught in his throat, jammed behind a decade of grief and resentment. Niko’s fingers brushed hers, then gripped tight, squeezing so hard she yelped in pain, as the newcomer stepped into the glow of the sconces. The light fell full on his face, and Katerina gasped.
He was older, the hair at his temples silvered. But the arch of his brows, the high cheekbones and stubborn jaw…those were all familiar. Niko saw them in his reflection each day.
It couldn’t be. But yet, it was.
“Hello, son,” Anton Alekhin said.