Chapter 55
Get up, Little Viper. This isn’t your time to die.
Maeve’s Magic kicked back at Mal in response to his command, dousing his senses in her intoxicating presence through the bond they shared. He breathed heavily as she returned to her feet, her Magic slamming against Shadow’s once more. His Little Viper was extraordinary. She’d freed him.
And now sealing Shadow was within her grasp.
But that only delayed the inevitable.
He pushed up, an involuntary groan sounding deep in his chest.
The soft sheets of Maeve’s bed remained beneath him.
Abraxas was gone, and the firelights were completely extinguished.
The only source of light came from a small white glow before him.
As his eyes focused, he saw the dozens of fully armed Senshi Warriors that previously lined the room lying unconscious on the floor.
Drystan slumped over in his reading chair. Not dead. Asleep.
Reeve’s line of Magic surrounding Mal remained. Steadfast and paramount.
But a new Magical signature had entered the space. One that called to him even greater than Maeve’s.
Maxius stood at the foot of the bed with Spinel at his side, with every ounce of Maeve’s Dread Magic inside him. The cat’s long tail curled tightly around his body and draped across his feet. Mal didn’t move as his only child peered at him across the darkened bedroom.
The Dread Locket around his neck glowed with Magic that called to Mal, ancient and of his blood. The Lux charm on Maxius’ wrist illuminated the space between them with soft, white light.
The charm bracelet that had once been Maeve’s.
“Hello, my boy,” he said weakly, hearing his own heartache evident in his call.
You remember me? signed Maxius.
The words were a dagger to Mal’s heart.
“I may only have a drop of my Magic left in me, but I’d recognize my son’s anywhere.”
The corners of Maxius’ lips moved up.
I like your eyes now, signed Maxius. I like them dark. Not green.
Not green.
With a tiny single finger, Maxius tapped the invisible barrier holding Mal in. Emerald light sparked across the cell and dissipated into nothing as he effortlessly shattered Reeve’s Magic.
At last, his son, the youngest to point a single finger, found his Magic.
Maxius climbed into the bed, Spinel close at heel, shifting on his knees across the bed. Mal’s heart began a steady increase of rhythm as his breaths quickened, pouring quickly from him.
Maxius placed his hands on Mal’s knees and crawled into his lap.
Mal froze as Maxius rested his head against Mal’s long and emaciated torso.
He was a ball of warmth against Mal’s cold skin.
Mal’s insides shook. Slowly, and with trepidation, Mal wrapped his arms around Maxius and settled him close.
Maxius turned his head, nuzzling into Mal.
His hold tightened reflexively, and he looked down at his son.
He didn’t have any portraits or pictures of himself at Maxius’ age, but that didn’t stop him from knowing just how intricately replicated Maxius was of him. Right down to the curve of his eyelids.
Of course, Maeve was there, too. Just differently. In his soft expression and his fearless eyes.
Mal leaned back, resting against the headboard. He didn’t tear his eyes away from Maxius.
It’s time, Maxius signed, looking up at him.
How could it be time already? When, finally, at last, his mind was free of the blight, and he held his son.
He saw and felt what needed to be done.
“I know,” he whispered, entangling his fingers through Maxius’ hair. “She can hold out a bit longer. Just so I can hold you a bit longer. She’s strong, you know.”
Reeve says she’s the strongest, his small hands signed.
Mal pressed his lips to the side of his temple. “She is.”
To be denied a life with his child may have been the cruelest trick of fate bestowed upon Mal.
“You are strong too, Maxius,” began Mal. “So strong that your mother and I knew the moment you came into existence.”
How? signed Maxius.
Mal remembered it clearly. The way Maeve’s hand moved over her stomach, the way she stared up at him in disbelief as they lay beside one another in a mass of sheets. The smile that blossomed on her face when his kiss was a silent confirmation that she was indeed pregnant with his child.
Maxius listened intently, a fondness in his gentle expression, as Mal continued.
“We saw a boy who would be the best parts of us both.”
Maxius shook his head, his hands moving swiftly. I still don’t understand my Magic, or why I have access to it now.
“I can’t say I understand either,” said Mal, fingers still trailing Maxius’ impossibly soft hair. “Your grandfather once told me Magic was alive, something all to itself. So no, I don’t understand why. But I do know what we must do now. And so do you, it seems.”
Mal’s fingers moved over Maxius’ cheeks, grateful his son didn’t recoil from his drained appearance, hoping that he, too, would remember what little time they’d had together as father and son.
Together they tensed as distantly Maeve took a harsh blow.
Maxius’ eyes widened, pleadingly, silently begging for Mal to go and help his mother.
How could Mal deny those eyes? Every moment that Shadow lived was a threat to his son’s life.
She would come for him and take him apart, strip him bare, just as she had Mal.
She wouldn’t stop until she’d consumed his heir. That had been made clear.
He wouldn’t let her touch Maxius. He wouldn’t let her abuse his son.
“Are you ready?” Mal asked.
Maxius nodded.
They shifted on the bed, and Maxius moved to his knees as they faced one another.
He reached a single finger towards Mal’s forehead, as Magic surged around them in anticipation.
The pad of Maxius’ fingers touched down, and Mal’s blood instantly heated.
It surged through him, transforming him as Maxius poured Maeve’s Dread Magic into him.
Where Shadow’s absorption had been cruel, taking, unforgiving, and vile, this was pure.
And gods above—it was Maeve.
He was regenerated and renewed beneath her beautiful essence.
Then came Maxius’ own Dread Magic, the Magic required in prophetic certainty for Mal to defeat Shadow. It was heavy, and it was greater in volume and potency than Maeve’s. It moved through him in thick waves as Maxius used his Shadow Magic to channel nearly all of his Magic.
As he finished, Maxius heaved a sigh, his eyes rolling back and his shoulders sliding sideways. Mal grabbed him gently at once, noticing then the color slowly returning to his long fingers, to his skin. Spinel rubbed against Maxius, purring loudly.
The boy opened his eyes, dazed only for a moment. His eyes scanned over Mal quickly, and he smiled.
You look better, he signed quickly, tucking his legs beneath him and petting Spinel.
Mal sighed, letting the weight of the Magic he’d been given settle over him. He touched his palm to his cheek, feeling a light flush, the return of his humanity. He rolled his neck and shoulders, renewed strength coiling through him.
Mal’s fingers tucked beneath Maxius’ chin. “You truly are your mother’s son. Extraordinary in every way.”
Maxius’ face lit up.
As Mal prepared to Obscure, Maxius’ hands grabbed his.
“No,” said Mal at once. “You must stay here.”
Under no circumstances was he getting anywhere near Shadow. This battle was for him and his Little Viper.
Maxius withdrew his hands and looked up at Mal. He huffed a sigh.
“You must stay here,” said Mal with a soft smile, running his fingers through his hair. “Who will protect Spinel if you are gone?”
Maxius looked over at the onyx cat, who chirped in approval, and covered his mouth with joy.
“Run and find Zimsy,” said Mal, and the pair of them bounced off the bed at once.
Mal closed his eyes, and with a low sigh, he gathered Maeve’s Magic, which would always be desperate to return to her, and used it to guide him to wherever she battled Shadow.
He Obscured, dark mist wrapping and transporting his body from her chamber, and landed directly behind her on the side of the mountain just as she took a substantial hit from Shadow’s advance. Maeve spun, colliding into him.
The pale creature’s hollowed and bloodied eye sockets landed on him, as though she could still see him, as her Magical signature spiked with fear. His fingers found her throat, and his turn at torture began.
Maeve found her footing as her fingers pressed into his exposed chest, steadying herself. Power surged through him at her skin on his. Her forehead touched down next, as she expelled a sigh at the momentary reprieve of battle.
Shadow remained locked in Mal’s grip. Maeve had depleted her substantially, and now, with a prophecy fulfilled in his blood, and Dread Magic at his fingers once more, he stood above her in every meaning of the word.
“Tell me, Little Viper,” began Mal, his voice dripping in lethal calm, his free hand at her waist. “Should we make it quick? Or have a little fun?”
A drained sound escaped Maeve, and her neck craned to look up at him. Mal’s determination surged at her attention, but his gaze remained trained on Shadow, on the brutalized carvings at where her stolen eyes should have been.
“I see you already had some fun,” noted Mal, praise seeping into his cold voice.
He looked down at her at last, soaking in his beloved Viper.
Red scatterings of Magic that would yield bruises littered her face.
Her bottom lip was swollen, a thin crimson slice decorating the pale-pink skin.
Despite her battered appearance, it was the proud line of her mouth and slight narrowing of her eyes that made him crave her.
And Mal had never been one to deny himself something he wanted.