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Chapter 47

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

T he Nostra Empire is mine.

I should feel elated, but my chest feels empty.

Without my pack, the family I've found, and without the keeper, there is only the cold comfort of a power I've paid a heavy price to claim.

I need to get back to the keeper as quickly as I can, but I also can't rush this initial time with the leaders of the dark families, not when my reign is new.

No matter how much blood I shed to get to this point, I have to solidify my intentions and my control while the scent of death is heavy in the air to ensure there are no creeping doubts in their minds.

It takes an hour to give the leaders their orders and set my ground rules.

They don't like my rules, just as I anticipated. Telling dark creatures to curb the worst of their natures is no small thing. But they can also see the benefits. Reduced heat from the Assassin's Legion, for one.

The whole time, I shun the throne my father lounged on. I'll have the damn thing destroyed the first chance I get.

When Gad and Valki finally slink into the room, cautiously asking if I need anything, I tell them to bring towels.

Then, when the leaders finally disperse, each one bowing to me and restating their allegiance, Valki asks me if I want a shower.

She and Gad stand nervously, watching me as I consider her question.

I guess they're wondering if I'm going to kill them.

"A shower. Clean clothes. And the quickest passage southwest," I say before I give them a hard stare. "I have something to take care of and then I'll be back. When I return, you will be ready to show me every corner of this place and tell me everything you know about my empire. Even if you think I won't like to hear it. I want truth, not lies."

They glance at each other. "We can do that."

"Good." I don't trust them enough to tell them where I'm going—the location of the apartment. That sort of trust has to be earned—and right now, they're afraid of me, not loyal. I'll separate from them before I get anywhere near the apartment just to be safe.

I would be more worried about leaving these premises if the Nostra Empire revolved around its buildings or any particular territory, but it doesn't.

It revolves around its ruler.

Wherever I go, that's where the empire is.

Another hour later, I've washed, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that fit me well enough, and left the underground pathways beneath the White Wing Tavern behind, along with Gad and Valki.

I make it back to the apartment just as the sun is rising, only to realize that I don't have a key.

Before I consider how to break in without damaging the door too badly, it flies open, and Anarchy stands within it.

" Darkness !" she scolds me. "Where have you?—?"

She inhales deeply before her pupils dilate, and she quickly pulls me inside, leaning close to me.

"Any chance you were covered in gargoyle blood a short while ago?" she asks while her brothers gravitate toward me.

Shadow panthers crave gargoyle blood, so I shouldn't be surprised.

I catch sight of Lucian in the background. I'm certain that Orlan must have brought my pack here—a certainty that's confirmed when the bright-eyed warlock steps into view from the side of the lounge room.

"Keep your licking to yourselves," I grumble at the dark elves as they crowd me.

It can't help that I'm carrying my mother's shirt and the black sash in a plastic bag—both of which I quickly washed but haven't properly cleaned. The material was soaked in gargoyle blood.

Anarchy smacks her lips. "There's just a little drop you missed right here."

She swoops in and runs her tongue across my earlobe before darting back with a grin. "Got it."

Her smile quickly fades.

So does mine. "The Nostra Empire is mine."

My declaration feels hollow.

The dark elves give me quiet nods before Lucian steps toward me, reaching for my hand.

"The keeper isn't doing well," he says.

Vengeance wasn't enough.

As soon as I destroyed the light magic keeper's weapon, I knew it wouldn't be. My keeper was broken long before I met him.

I exhale slowly, trying to take control of my aching sadness. "I'm going to need your help," I say to my pack. "You, too, Orlan. There are things I need you to do, and you can't question them. Please trust that I'm making the only choices that I can."

I wait for them to acknowledge me.

"We're here," Anarchy says. "Say the word and it will be done."

My legs are wooden as I step between them and make my way to the bedroom.

When I round the corner and step inside, my hand flies to my mouth and my eyes fill with tears.

Gone is the man who held me in his arms only hours ago.

The keeper's face is past pale, a gray tinge now at the edges of his lips and extending across his hollow cheeks.

Once again, he lied to me—this time about how much time he had left. I wouldn't have gone to fight my father if I'd known the keeper had only had hours to live.

He's lying on his back, his chest bare, his arms crossed over his torso, his left hand covering his right.

The dark crown is fully visible on his left forefinger.

His breathing is shallow, a whisper in the silence.

I try to move past my pain.

I know what I have to do. I realized it when I drove my hand through the light magic keeper's insubstantial form and cut through her weapon to free her. To command and free her.

I squeeze my eyes closed, and when I open them, I draw on all my fury because without it, I won't be able to do this.

"Orlan," I say. "Come here. I need you to be close by and ready to use your transportation magic."

He ventures into the room, keeping near to the wall beside the door, his voice conveying his uncertainty. "Veda?"

"When I ask you, I need you to take the keeper away from me."

His forehead crinkles, but I continue before he can question me. "You will take him to St. Michael Cemetery."

Orlan startles. "What?"

"That's where Elijah is," I say.

Orlan widens his eyes at me. "That may be so, but there are also other supernaturals there who won't take kindly to my arrival."

I turn to my brother. "Which is why you will go with Orlan."

Lucian shakes his head, his golden eyes filled with worry. "Veda, I don't understand this."

I take my brother's hands, holding them tightly. "You will understand. And I promise, no harm will come to you or Orlan. When the fury who lives there makes an appearance—which she will—tell her that the new Ultima Nostra sends you in the name of peace.

"Tell her that I am allied with Rebella, the fury of Mount Greylock, and now I seek an alliance with the supernaturals of St. Michael Cemetery. The fury will see the truth in your message, and she will not harm you."

"Sister…"

I give him a hard stare. "Can you do this for me?"

He nods. "I can."

I tremble with relief. It's only when I pull my hands away from his that I remember how badly burned my left palm still is.

I hide it quickly before he can see it.

To the dark elves, I say, "You will stay here with me. I will need you." I take another deep breath. "I will need all of the precious darkness in your souls and the power in your hearts. I will need you to be here with me and keep me steady. No matter what. Can you do that?"

They each give me solemn nods, and, even though they're resolute in their actions, I can hear the way their hearts jump and pound with uncertainty. They promised to do what I ask, but that doesn't mean they aren't anxious about it, an anxiety that I completely understand. But it can't sway me.

I turn to the keeper, approaching the right side of the bed and depositing the bag of soggy material and two metal feathers on the floor next to it.

Soon, those things may not mean as much to me as they do now.

I lower myself onto the bed, finding a spot that wasn't cut up by my wings so I can kneel on the keeper's left.

As my pack takes up position in a circle behind me—Orlan and Lucian to the right and the dark elves to the left—I reach for the keeper's left hand, wrapping my burned palm around his wrist.

My voice is strained as I whisper into the silence, speaking to him now as if he could answer me. "Do you remember when Ryuji and I spoke about a broken teapot?"

I wait a moment, listening to the keeper's heartbeat, waiting for it to respond to my voice, but it continues in its thready beats.

I force myself to continue, fighting to keep my voice steady. "I described that teapot as a thing of beauty created with care. But if I were to break it, I could use the pieces as weapons. And he said… that may be true, but with a steady hand and the right mix of lacquer and gold, even the smallest shards may once again form a thing of beauty."

I can't stop the hot tears from building behind my eyes, can't stop the ache in my chest as I rest my right hand over his failing heart.

Then I do what I swore I wouldn't do. I slip my left hand over the crown.

It's the first time I've willfully touched it.

Oh, he's run his hands over every part of my body while wearing this ring, but I've never reached for the crown. Never wrapped my left hand around it and called for its power.

Not like this.

I gasp as energy explodes through me, and my vision ignites with a dark flame that lights up my mind.

My dark hair gleams around my shoulders, the strands becoming luminous. Metallic.

The pain in my burning palm fades, and as fast as the agony recedes, those terrible, impossible impulses take its place.

Take control of the light and the dark.

Shape the world to match your needs.

Fight the old and find the new.

I push back against the impulses with all of my might as I slowly draw the ring along his finger without removing it completely.

There it rests, right at his fingertip, and there I will keep it.

Because when it leaves his hand, death will come for him.

I won't let that happen until my work is done.

Until this power has complied with my will.

"You helped give me the vengeance I sought. You kept your end of our bargain. So now, here I am, with a steady hand," I say to him, this man who stole my heart. "And I'm giving you lacquer and gold."

I fight against the fury and the malice. Fight against the cold darkness.

My voice builds in power as a whirlwind of energy grows around me.

"You will not be Emil anymore," I command him, this man who stood at my side. "You will not be Enemy ."

I take another breath, shaking my head resolutely. "You will not be a demon or a dragon or a wolf or a draugr or any other supernatural creature whose form you've taken that did not belong to you. You will not be Diavolo and you will not be Keeper . Because if you are none of those things…"

Again, I force myself to breathe as my hands shake on the chest of this man who called me his beloved. "If you are not the keeper, then you won't die when I take this crown."

My right hand forms claws across his heart as the power from my left hand flows through my chest and down my right arm, and with that power, I pull and pull and pull…

I will take the malice so he can be free.

I will rip out the darkness so he can know peace.

The person I am will die so he can live.

My heart is pounding, flooding with feeling as I take back what I gave. Even after I gifted my heart's power, I formed bonds and found my family and made peace with my enemies.

And when my heart's power is fully mine again, I swear I will find balance. I will find a way through this cold malice.

I have to.

"I will take back the power of my heart because you won't need it anymore," I whisper, leaning over him as the clash of feeling and darkness becomes a storm within my mind.

A battle between my reason, my sense of justice, my intentions, and the cruelty that wants to claim me.

"You won't need my heart's power anymore because you will be new," I say, pressing a final kiss to his lips, taking a final breath of his scent.

There is value in broken things.

A broken heart can lead to a new life.

"You won't remember me," I say. "You will have a new life with a new name that you choose. You will have only the magic you were meant to have, and you will have all the goodness and light that was taken from you."

I sense the last threads of my heart's power pulling away from him and now I gather all of my intentions, everything I've spoken, and I prepare to let them loose through my left hand at exactly the right moment.

I will have a split second to save him.

A heartbeat between taking the crown and stopping his death.

Around me, streams of power have gathered, a beautiful darkness, a snowstorm of thought and feeling, all my commands ready to be unleashed.

I take a final breath and then I roar, "I will take this crown and you will live!"

As my command leaves my lips, I slip the crown from his finger and let my intentions loose.

You are not the keeper. You are new and whole. You are good.

You will not remember me.

Power spears through my left hand in a rush that forces a scream from my lips.

In that moment, I pray for his heart to start beating again, prepared for the terrible moment when it does.

Prepared for that moment because then he will live and I will lose him.

And there it is.

A steady beat.

Then I'm screaming and throwing myself backward, away from my pack, a snarl already growing on my lips. "Take him! Get him away from me! He must not be corrupted by this power. He must not remember what he was or he will break again."

Orlan and Lucian rush forward through the haze of energy, heaving and hauling my love's warm body off the bed.

All I can hear is his heartbeat, thudding strong and clear, and all I care about is the flush of new color to his cheeks and the way his hands are already moving and his eyes are already opening…

But looking at him will be my undoing, so I close my eyes.

I close my eyes and then he's gone.

I can't hear this heartbeat any longer. I can't inhale his scent, that crisp scent of wolves and snow and apples and kindness . All the goodness I returned to him that can't be a part of my life any longer.

A moment later, a wave of darkness passes through my mind.

It is forceful and demanding, a flood of power that wipes clean my thoughts, taking my anguish and my pain and dissolving them so fast that they are instantly forgotten.

Instantly inconsequential.

My gaze is drawn to my hands, where a flawless crown rests on my palms, ready to be placed on my head. Its sharp spokes rise up from its solid body, each one glinting and sparkling.

It is beautifully, perfectly dark.

And now it's mine.

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