Chapter Forty-Six
Darius
The scorched earth outside is a reflection of what we harbor within.
Even confined in a basement, locked behind walls, she still draws from the living world. But the reach is limited, and exhaustion will follow.
This cannot last long.
Ruaidhrí steps out beside me, whistling low. "This is some intense stuff. Good thing she can't drain the life out of us."
"She can," I correct him. "But through blood."
I fold my arms, eyes tracing the blackened treeline. "You know the danger of staying here."
I think of Darlene. Of Johnny. Of others I trusted who are now gone.
He shrugs, a hint of a grin. "You've told me that already, boss, and I'm still here. Though I'll admit—it's something new, seeing you worried."
I offer only a brief nod and keep my gaze on the forest, watching for some sign, some shift in nature's rhythm that might speak to me. But she's silent. Even for one such as me, she keeps her counsel.
Ruaidhrí's tone lowers. "You think someone else will come for her?"
"Yes," I say, turning to him. "Eventually. And when they do, it will endanger everyone here. Including you."
He makes a small, careless motion, as if brushing away the warning. "I'm not easy to kill. And I'm less life-adjacent than you lot—nymphs, satyrs, fauns. Gives me a bit more margin."
"Then I won't bring it up again," I say. "You were warned."
"Copy that, boss." He starts toward the house, then glances back with a smirk. "I do expect a raise, though."
That earns the faintest smile from me. "Of course."
Then, quieter: "And Ru—"
He pauses.
"Thank you."
The look he gives me is serious this time. He understands what I meant.
Ru heads inside and crosses paths with Maeve, who's just stepping out. He bows with theatrical flair. "Druid."
She eyes him. "Trickster."
"At your service," he replies, then winks, and disappears into the house.
Maeve exhales, shaking her head before her attention turns to me, then to the forest beyond. Her posture is wary.
"You've come to ask for something," I say.
She frowns, then nods. "Yes. You read people well."
"A practice of centuries."
"I…" She hesitates. "Asher offered me a room here, but I can't stay. Not while that thing is inside. I'm sorry, I know—"
I raise a hand to stop her. "I understand. You're sensitive to her energy. Stay at a hotel if you must. Ruaidhrí will take you. But you can't leave the town."
"I figured as much," she says, resigned, and retreats back into the house.
I remain outside for a moment longer. Then I follow.
It's time to face her.
It's dark downstairs. The shadows cling to the walls, but they're not what makes the air heavy. Her presence poisons the light. Even restrained, her aura seeps into every surface.
The chains rattle as she shifts, hearing my approach.
"Ah," she drawls. "The ex-fiancé comes. Did you draw the short straw? Why aren't my dearest husbands taking the first turn?"
Her smile is all teeth. Nothing soft in her eyes. Only shadow.
It takes effort not to let it show how seeing her like this wounds me. So hollowed out and crowned with darkness.
"We thought it best for someone who understands you, who's seen you at your highest and your worst, to come first," I say evenly. "Sage, this isn't you. Not fully. The Sage I knew was fierce. Alive. Not… this echo."
She smirks, tilting her head. "Echo's poetic. You always did enjoy your metaphors."
She rattles her chains once more. "Bit kinky, though, don't you think? And you say 'we' so casually now. Teaming up with the vampires who stole your woman. The ones you swore to kill. Is that desperation, or… are you expanding your horizons? Should I expect some group entertainment?"
She licks her lips slowly, her voice low and taunting.
I don't rise to it.
"You're a prisoner to this version of yourself," I say. "It's not a show of strength to lose yourself to hunger. You have to fight it. Find the spark buried beneath the ruin."
She rolls her eyes. "Oh, how touching." Her voice drips with mockery. "You're still trying to dig for fragments of my soul. Clinging to that fantasy of redemption." She leans forward. "Let me be straight with you—there's nothing in there."
"Do you remember? The places we stood together. The things we dreamed. The battles we fought. That's not gone," I press. "There's a part of you that remembers and cares."
Her expression shifts. I can't say what it means.
"Please, Sage," I say, voice quieter now. "Fight it. For me."
"Blah, blah, blah," she mutters, mouth twisted in a bitter grin. "So tiresome, Darius. You already gave me this speech before. It didn't win me back when I wasn't… this. Do you really think it'll work now?"
Her words hit harder than I let it show.
"I don't expect this to be easy," I tell her. "But I believe in you. In what we were. I won't stop."
She leans forward again, eyes gleaming, chains singing with tension.
"You're pathetic, you know that?" she hisses. "Running after me like some love-sick mutt. I used to respect you. Menacing, powerful, merciless ancient being. This version? It's pitiful. Why did you even follow me? Pride? Ego? Or do my powers mean that much to you?"
Real questions. Beneath the venom, Sage is still there, asking what she never dared to before.
"I followed you because you are mine," I say, "Because even when you told me to leave… even when you married them… I believed you could love me again."
For a beat, there is only silence.
Then she throws her head back and laughs, low and cruel.
"Oh, this is rich," she spits. "Darlene was right all along. I made you weak. And now—" her voice sharpens, "even like this, I'm still your weakness."
My eyes narrow at the mention of Darlene. She sees it.
"Darlene…" she says slowly, watching for the reaction she knows will come. "She thought she was serving you by killing me. She wasn't wrong, I suppose, but she didn't know things would unfold like this, did she?"
Her laugh is low and twisted. "She thought you would kill her after what she did."
A pause, then she tilts her head. "Oh, but how pleasant it was to watch her die in my hands. To see her eyes fade. And her blood—mmm, delicious."
I step closer, my power barely contained. "You are walking a thin line, nymph." The words come from something older than my voice.
Her gaze sharpens, cold and defiant. "Is that a threat?"
I let the power answer.
The light rises, deep green and blinding, flooding the room with a living radiance. She flinches first, then winces, closing her eyes against it. I reach out, fingers brushing her cheek, searching for what once bound us—the sacred tether between nymph and satyr.
But nothing stirs.
I press harder, forcing the light to meet her darkness, my true form flickering into this plane. Horns, roots, life itself drawn raw from the soil.
She grunts in pain, recoiling like a cornered animal.
I stop.
There's no reaching her. Only my light devouring her shadow.
"My duty," I say, stepping back, "is to destroy what you've become."
She opens her eyes, squinting against the afterglow, the first real expression I've seen from her. "Then why don't you?"
"Because I love you," I answer simply. "And I won't let you vanish into this abyss without a fight."
I turn to leave before reason falters.
Her voice follows, softer but cutting. "And what if you can't? What if this is who I am now?"
I don't answer. Because that is the question that terrifies me most.
When I close the basement door, the two vampires are waiting, along with what's left of their team.
Kayden raises an eyebrow. "Well, that was quick. Either you turned her back, or she ripped out your heart and had herself a snack. Judging by that face, I'd say the latter."
I narrow my eyes, refusing the bait. "Something like that."
I expect more mockery, but instead Kayden pours a glass of scotch and offers it. I take it with a nod and drink it down.
"Who's volunteering to be next?" I ask, the question heavy in the silence that follows.