Chapter 44
Nicholas
“No!”
Nicholas’s scream was an agonizing wail, ripped from the bleak depths of him to bubble under the rising tide. He tried to get to the altar, tried to save his dear friend, but the church fell away as his ocean yanked him under.
Nicholas fought to breach the obsidian surface, fought to stay alive as fear and heartache devoured him. He couldn’t breathe, and in this reality, he needed to. In this hellscape, he was weak, a victim of circumstances, a casualty of all that had been done to him.
A pinprick of light shone deep in this abyss, wordlessly offering solace, as tempting as forbidden fruit. He thrashed, then swam upward as the light moved in pursuit of him.
Sea whip encircled his ankles and wrists, binding him at the waist, tugging him toward the ocean floor.
Water rounded every corner of Nicholas’s mind, flooding him completely, banging on every locked door within. He moved at an invisible speed, his sight failing him as the final stage of asphyxiation kicked in.
Would his loved ones remember him? Would they remember him for the person he was, or for the man he wished he could be? Would they think fondly of his shortcomings? Or would they pity him for never having found his true strength?
He thought about Gabriel, about how he’d never get to say sorry, never get to give him the one thing he’d wanted most from Nicholas—the one thing Nicholas never had the courage to offer himself.
“Look at me, Nicholas. See me.”
He thought about Sean, about how he’d likely never forgive himself for what happened at the club, and he thought about how accurately his friend had described him, even if he hadn’t wanted to admit it.
“You wouldn’t hurt me. You’re not that type of guy.”
Nicholas had always played it safe, even while pretending to do the opposite. But there was a part of him that didn’t want to be cautious, that knew he was destined for something greater than altruism. He’d refused to face his true self. He’d been a child masquerading as a man.
“When are you going to stop calling me kid?”
“When it stops having power over you.”
When it stops having power over you.
When it stops having power over you.
When it stops having power over you.
Nicholas stopped struggling, now so close to the light he could feel its blistering warmth through the stark cold. He took a breath and found that he could breathe.
Quieting all the noise inside his head, the negative voices, the urgency for him to leave this corner of his mind, to get back to the church…
He let it all go, reflecting on the moments and the people who’d been unknowingly arming him for this moment, preparing him to come into his own.
“You said there was something keeping you from Gabriel. Maybe that something is actually keeping you from yourself. And until you face it, you’re no good to anyone, especially him.”
That had been his last conversation with Liam, right before he’d gone to Ashfall and failed to jump.
He remembered something he’d said to Gabriel, a lie he wished he could take back.
“It shouldn’t feel like I would die without you.”
That was exactly how love should feel. How their love should feel.
Nicholas remembered the dinner at Gabriel’s, when he’d realized he had a family now, that he wouldn’t have to wander this new world alone.
He reflected on the list Mateo had helped him create and his friend’s dedication to experiencing those things along with him.
Then there’d been Sandy, who unknowingly helped him conclude that he didn’t need to sacrifice his joys to be different from Zayn.
And Hamza… who’d taught him how to fight, and how to trust and respect his own feelings.
Then there was Marcus, who showed him what it meant to be a true and loyal friend—something Nicholas had fallen short on in the past and sometimes present.
They’d all armed him with what he needed to face this moment, to meet this challenge.
He could go on, but time was short, and besides, he’d learned his lesson. He knew what must be done now.
Surrender.
The sea whip released him, making it clear. He needed to journey the rest of the way on his own. Something inside him activated, some force filling him entirely.
Nicholas gathered all his might, all the courage he’d allowed to sit idle. He charged toward the light with open arms. He let the tide in.
Murky water crowded his lungs, reforging him, making him anew. Pain tore at his chest, hot and deadly, carving into him. The ocean gathered, forming a rip current, rushing back to the core of Nicholas, carrying its light and its darkness with it—and for once, he wasn’t afraid.
He welcomed the many sides of himself, came to terms with what he’d always been capable of, and there was no longer any room for shame.
The church eaves creaked as the foundations bent, a leak sprang somewhere within the bowels, and as if lifted by an incredible wind, the hymnals floated from the backs of the pews.
There wasn’t a single door in his mind that remained closed, and he had little time to think about what that would mean, to what Gabriel and the others felt.
Nicholas’s clothes peeled away from his transforming body. His limbs doubled in size, his bones stretched to new lengths, his skin now the color of midnight. He tried to speak, to reassure his friend, but found he couldn’t in this form. All he could do was give in.
Liam’s blood bathed the altar, his hand struggling weakly to hold in whatever remained.
Nicholas’s beast felt both separate and one with him, both alien and true self. He roared his rage at the man responsible, the man who stood unbothered in a pool of his friend’s spilled blood.
He encased the church in a prison of ice, fortifying every inch of it, cutting off all routes of escape. None of these men would make it out alive.
His neck jutted away from his bulky shoulders, his monstrous teeth grazing his chin. Nicholas stepped a taloned foot in the hooded man’s direction, splintering a floor plank.
One of his men got close enough to grab Nicholas’s arm. Nicholas severed his arm, ripping it free from its socket. The man let out a shriek, confirming they weren’t immune to pain. Nicholas sliced his head from his shoulders with one knife-like claw, putting an end to his misery.
A line of men leapt from the balcony. Nicholas froze four of them in mid-air, applying enough mental pressure to his ice to shatter them into pieces. His claws lashed upwards, catching the fifth man below the chin. He tore his whole jaw off.
He tried to freeze the hooded man, just until he could reach him and destroy him with his bare hands, but nothing happened.
Bullets bit into his torso, sending him back a step. Black blood dripped down his ribcage, and he watched the rounds slip free and fall to his feet. The wounds sealed immediately.
“Kill him,” the man said in a bored tone. “All of you. Now.”
He watched his men fall by the dozen with rapt attention, a king studying a new opponent. The man had no regard for the lives of his soulless army, as though more of them could be made, easily replaced.
Fifteen pews from the altar now, their blood soaked the beast’s leathery skin, their brain matter dangling from his claws.
More rounds of gunfire rang out from the gallery, and with a roar, Nicholas ripped a pew from the floor, launching it at them. The sound of cracking bones echoed like fireworks.
Nicholas and his beast charged for the altar, eyes fixed on the hooded man, ignoring what remained of his footmen.
A dagger pierced his calf, causing him to stumble and howl. He glanced back at the bleeding man in the aisle, smashing a large foot down on his head, crushing it completely.
He yanked the dagger free, gnashing his teeth. Swinging his arm back, the blade caught in the eye of the man rushing him from behind. He screamed but remained upright.
Nicholas spun just as another underling ran forward. He reached through the chest cavities of both men, yanking out their spines.
The remaining men formed a blockade, stalling his progress, guns drawn. Their bullets would slow him down, but with the light fading from Liam’s eyes, he couldn’t afford even a second’s delay.
Nicholas’s tide crooned, praising him, settling into every corner of his body and mind as though it’d been waiting a lifetime for access to him.
The answers to all of Nicholas’s questions became clear. That sense of lurking danger that had haunted him all his life, his carefulness, the way he distrusted fiercely…
His fear of forgiving Gabriel, of the emotions he inspired, the carelessness he wanted to give in to when with him.
Nicholas had never been afraid of whatever dangers hid behind dark corners, or of vampires, or even murder. What he’d always been afraid of was himself.
He didn’t have room to be afraid in this skin, no space to second-guess, and had no inclination toward regret. This was who he was. This was who he was meant to be.
Who are you beneath the stars?
He was danger beneath them. A violent monster cradling unspent fury and vengeance. He was love to those who mattered, and merciless to those who didn’t deserve it. He was unrepentant, unstoppable. And these creatures would pay for what they’d done.
Nicholas pushed against the resistance of gunfire, snarling, recoiling when he caught a bullet to the teeth. His healing slowed, his body no longer expelling the fragments of metal. He needed blood.
Something pounded against the exterior of the church, ice chipping but holding.
Nicholas was a vortex of rage, his hunched form cutting through what stood in his path, splitting heads in two.
Down to two vacant-gazed vessels, the beast in him panted, lips curling away from sharp teeth. Their guns clicked, empty of ammunition, a mountain of casings at their feet.
A venomous hiss left Nicholas as he took a stumbling step closer, a fury he’d never experienced guiding his wrath.
He bit the face off the man on the right, spitting the chunk of rabid flesh onto the floor.
He watched his body sway left, then crumble before landing a neck-snapping blow to the last man standing.
His body landed in a heap, and Nicholas shook his face off his fist.
The hooded man scanned his fallen men with what looked like both disgust and awe.
Nicholas was so close now, it would take seconds to dispatch this final threat, then he could help his friend.
The church groaned and rocked, as though a battering ram had been taken to it, but Nicholas couldn’t focus on anything outside of that altar.
A cold sweat broke out over Father Murphy, his lips gone blue, but Nicholas could hear the thin rasp of breath coming from him. It was likely too late regardless, but he wouldn’t think about that now.
The man withdrew a gun with a long barrel from the lining of his coat, wielding it at Nicholas with confidence. He pulled the trigger, the large slug searing through Nicholas’s chest. The force sent him skidding back before taking him to the floor with a bellow capable of stirring the moon.
The pain spread from the entry point, expanding to vital organs, his liver and kidneys burning like wildfire.
He arched off the floor; the hole was the size of a small fist, and closing too slowly. The bullet must have been coated with something harmful to him.
His bones began to atrophy, his skin lightening, his teeth and talons shrinking to their normal size. The process was excruciating and slow, costing him valuable time.
He lay wheezing and bloody by the time it was over, the opening in his chest finally closing. Coughing, he twisted his head toward the altar, but the hooded man was gone.
“Liam,” he croaked, rolling onto his hands and knees.
The ground shook, affecting his balance when he tried to stand. Particles of ice fell from the high ceiling, further damaging the sanctuary.
Unable to stand without collapsing, he crawled over to his friend, crying blood-tears as he felt for a pulse he couldn’t hear. He started chest compressions.
“Please, God,” he begged, after having just broken the sixth commandment under his roof. “Please.”
A familiar voice broke through his anguish, pulling him from the depths of his despair.
“Nicholas!”
The earth shook again, the sanctuary lamp falling from the tabernacle.
“Nicholas!”
Gabriel’s voice was muffled by the thick barrier of ice surrounding the interior, but it was him. Anger and fear pierced through Nicholas, more than his own load—Gabriel was beyond rageful and terrified. The added emotional weight made Nicholas’s back bow.
He kept up his resuscitation efforts, biting into his wrist and holding it over Liam’s cold lips. In between, he raised the temperature in the church, thawing the ice.
Minutes later, a weak thud sounded in Liam’s chest as the church doors were blasted off their hinges by a white bolt of fire. Gabriel and Marcus were revealed through the flames, claws and teeth unsheathed.
They raced for Nicholas and Liam, stepping over the mangled bodies.
“Nicholas.” Gabriel’s hands flew over him restlessly. “Are you hurt?”
Nicholas was inconsolable, only able to shake his head. There was so much blood, but only a small fraction of it was his.
“What happened?” Gabriel looked around, his heart beating rapidly while Liam’s faltered again. “Did you do all this?”
“P-please,” he stammered. There was no time to explain. “Help him.”
As though only now noticing that someone other than Nicholas was there, Gabriel glanced over at Father Murphy. He’d been removed from Nicholas’s arms, laid a few feet away, being worked on by Marcus.
Marcus pleaded with him to hold on, calling Liam by an unfamiliar name.
“I beg you, rouhi.”
Gabriel and Nicholas turned with confused stares at each other.
“Our blood won’t be enough,” Marcus whispered, a note of agony in his tone. “He’s lost too much of his own.”
“We have to help him.” Nicholas fisted Gabriel’s shirt. “We have to help him.”
Their gazes held, something loud but unspoken passing between them. Nicholas would never forgive himself for Father Murphy’s death, would never get over it.
“Please.” He sounded as small as he felt.
“Sayyidi?” Marcus breathed, but it felt more like a warning than a request for permission. Gabriel looked conflicted, bemused, and oddly betrayed.
He turned away from his childhood friend, cupping the sides of Nicholas’s head.
“Do you understand what you’re asking for?”
Nicholas nodded.
“No,” Gabriel barked. “I need you to say it. Say it, Nicholas. Because there will be no going back from this.”
Nicholas eased away, swiping at his tears, glancing at his dying friend. With clear eyes and an even clearer head, he issued Marcus an order.
“Save him.”