Chapter 4

Icurled my body around Anaria when the shadows closed in around us.

Perhaps the darkness was death itself, looming in the stillness beyond my pitiful fire, waiting for my beloved to draw her final breath and snatch her away from me forever.

"You can't fucking have her." My growl rattled the walls and the shadows paused.

"She is mine." I hugged her closer. "Mine, do you hear? She belongs to me and I to her, and if you take her from this realm, then you'd best take me, too."

She'd stopped shivering long ago, her breaths coming so slowly I pressed my ear to her chest to make sure her heart still beat faintly. I'd memorized every inch of her. The dark lashes curved against her pale cheeks like halfmoons, the speckle of dots on her nose.

Once, my entire life had revolved around Julian.

A younger brother's love, steeped in hero worship and blind adoration.

Nothing held a candle to how much I loved Anaria. She consumed me—heart, body, and mind—and the strangest part was…my feelings didn't scare me anymore. I hugged her closer, face buried in her hair, her soft curves pressed so tight against me every rattling, hard-fought breath felt like my own.

A crippling fear seized me, tinged with a wild panic I couldn't control.

Not so long ago, I'd had a future before me. Now I was about to lose it all. Lose everything if Anaria didn't survive this.

"When you're better, we'll go home to Nightcairn." I nuzzled her cold cheek, the wolf inside me keening with fear yet unable to stifle its demanding, territorial side. "You'll stay in my room, in my bed. I'll hunt food for you. I'll keep you safe, then we will decide what comes next. The castle will be your home…our home, as long as we're together."

I'd never loved anyone in such a dizzying, consuming way. "I have money. We can go anywhere." I paused as she drew another raspy breath, this one harder fought than all the ones before. "Anywhere, even across the sea. We could be free, Anaria. Free to be whoever we wanted to be."

I promised her everything.

If she survived, I would give her the entire world.

The faint rustling outside would have escaped even the keenest Fae hearing, but my wolf went on high alert. I debated shifting, but after what happened last time…No, I couldn't afford to get stuck mid-shift. I slipped off the settee, laid Anaria down gently, and drew my sword.

One last glance at my beloved before I crept toward the entryway, the crystals in the chandeliers overhead tinkling ever so softly from a silent, phantom wind.

A dark form sailed out from the darkness.

I swung my blade and damn near sliced Torin's owl shifter in half.

He dropped a field mouse onto the floor, then landed on a desk, sending papers scattering in a cloud of dust. The golden owl blinked, his baleful eyes studying the sword in my hand. I'd chased this fucker halfway across Blackcastle and I didn't lower my weapon one inch.

The bastard shifted into his Fae form, golden hair and eyes shining in the firelight, but Simon wasn't looking at me.

He was staring down at the mouse, shivering in the firelight. "Transform, you piece of shite, or I'll swallow you whole."

I sniffed. The mouse smelled like a mouse…except for the faint hint of spent magic and Fae male clinging to his dusty scent.

The rodent skittered across the floor as fast as his tiny feet could carry him, before the owl shifter stomped a bare foot down onto his tail. "Transform into something useful, Bexley, or I swear to the gods, I'll turn back into an owl and eat you. I'm hungry enough I might fucking do it."

The mouse gnawed on the shifter's toe.

Simon bent down and picked the creature up, its feet scrambling, little squeaks coming from its now-bloody mouth. "You should have picked a bigger form, you fool of a healer."

He threw me an apologetic look. "Bexley tried to wiggle away, but I caught him before he could escape." Simon hoisted the mouse higher. "Now, if you aren't healing this girl by the time Torin arrives, I expect you'll spend the rest of your miserable life as a rat or something worse. You can either help us or die. Your choice."

The mouse stopped squirming before Simon dropped him. A thin Fae male hit the floor with a heavy thump.

Bexley was small, his bearded face pointed, almost like the mouse's. He was lightly muscled and trim, with washed-out brown hair and drab eyes that glared threateningly up at the owl shifter.

"No need for brutish threats, Simon. Nor to snatch me from my home. I would have come willingly."

Simon ran his hands down his naked body. "Willingly? You demanded payment before you'd go anywhere. Owls don't carry bags of gilder around with them, in case you haven't noticed. Then you transformed, dove into that hole…" His gaze drifted over to Anaria, his face paling.

"I'll find us clothes while you get to work. The wounds are on her lower legs."

Simon stopped when he reached the door. "Bex, this is Tavion Montgomery. He'll fill you in on what happened, but trust me when I say this, your survival hinges upon hers, so you'd better fucking save her. Understand?"

"As usual, you've made yourself perfectly clear, Simon." The healer grumbled, his gaze fixed on Anaria. He took one step before I stopped him with the flat side of my sword laid across his chest.

"She is the only thing in this world that matters to me," I warned, debating allowing this fucker any closer to Anaria. "You harm her in any way, I will take you apart and enjoy every second of your pain."

The healer rolled his eyes. "Two brutes in one night. How did I ever get so lucky?"

"He means what he says," Simon yelled from down the hall. "Get her stabilized. Now."

Every muscle in my body tensed as the healer—the very naked healer—knelt beside Anaria and gently peeled up the bottoms of her trousers. I shuddered at the cracking sound of leather being torn from flesh.

Then the smell hit me.

"How old are these wounds?" The healer whirled to me, fury blazing in his eyes. "Why was she not given treatment before now?"

"Five hours, at most. And she was healed by someone in our company. That was the best he could do."

Bexley shook his head. "No, these wounds are days, maybe weeks old. Now that infection has set in…" He swallowed hard, beads of sweat trembling on his forehead as he gazed at Anaria's ruined legs.

"I'm not sure I can save her." His voice went low enough I strained to hear. "Maybe if I take her legs before the infection reaches her heart there's a chance, but even so, there are no guarantees." He blew out a shaky breath.

"You will heal her." I took a step, my hand gripping the pommel of my sword like a fucking lifeline. "You will save her, and you will not take her legs."

"I…I don't know if I can." He shook his head, looking up at me with a distraught, pleading expression that wasn't feigned. "This isn't like any injury I've ever seen before."

"Because these wounds were caused by magic. Old God magic."

"There are no more Old Gods. There haven't been for an eternity."

"There are two left. The Oracle and her brother, Corvus. His magic is corruption, and Anaria took a direct hit of his magic, a lash across her shins, a little more than five hours ago. We brought her here as fast as we could. Torin insisted you could save her."

Ice grew in my veins as he knelt there with that worthless, frantic look on his face. "Torin had better not have been lying, because we turned around to come here. To wait for you. You are Anaria's only hope now."

I spiked the end of my sword into the parquet beside the kneeling healer, sending splinters of wood scattering across the floor. I leaned close enough to smell the mage. He needed a fucking bath.

"If she dies, so do you. So I suggest you double your efforts."

"Corruption?" Bexley ran his hand down his sweaty face, but his eyes sparked with understanding. "That I can work with. Let us see what we are dealing with."

I was so relieved to see healing magic pour from his hands and over Anaria I used my sword to hold myself up. My relief lasted until her body bowed up off the cushions, her mouth open in a silent scream as a faint, greenish haze spun up around her and the healer.

"Stop hurting her. Fucking stop."

"The…corrupting magic remains inside her, hanging on like an infection that doesn't want to leave. Come. You must hold the girl down so she doesn't injure herself."

Corvus's power was rank, stinking like the bowels of the Pit. I let go of the sword, then braced my hands on Anaria's thrashing body, holding her in place while the healer's magic crawled over her like lightning bolts.

"Make it leave." I couldn't stand how her body writhed beneath my palms. Couldn't stand the little keening cries that came from between her clamped lips. "Get this shite out of her, fucking now."

"I am trying to do exactly that, but the infection's gone too deep, like it's sprung roots that refuse to let go," Bexley muttered, pouring wave after wave of magic over her until the room was choked with it.

"His magic…is too powerful for me," Bexley finally admitted. "It corrupts everything it touches, moving up from her legs through the rest of her body. Once the poison reaches her heart…" He shook his head. "A few more minutes, perhaps." He searched my face then swallowed.

"You should say goodbye. While she can still hear you."

My heart stopped, roaring silence wiping away everything except that we were out of time. Then rage and helplessness forged my instincts into a single, impossible idea.

I gripped Anaria's face, her eyes squeezed shut, lips moving as if she was talking to herself. "Anaria. Listen to me, love. We've found a healer. But Corvus's magic won't let go. Can you…"

Fuck, how had she healed Raziel?

"Can you find Corvus's magic inside of you? Can you push him out?" I met the healer's eyes and he nodded faintly. "Once his magic is gone, he can heal you. But right now he can't, not so long as that foulness is still in you."

"Tell her to isolate anything that feels…dirty, like an infection or decay." Simon's face tightened. "Such ancient foulness would feel creeping or cold. Once she locates the foreign power, I'll feed my healing magic into her and together, we will drive the infection out like rats from a sinking ship."

She stopped writhing, but her lids fluttered, her head tilting toward the mage.

Somewhere beyond the pain, Anaria was listening.

"That's it. Search through yourself, look for anything dark, anything that feels wrong. Use your magic to…" Again, I looked up at Bexley.

"Start at her waist and work downward. She should push her magic toward her feet, away from her heart. Anything her power recognizes as a threat."

I repeated Bexley's instructions over and over again, gripping Anaria's hands in mine as he covered her in a blanket of golden, glowing power that sank into her skin. "She's not…she's not using her magic," Bexley muttered. "And I can't isolate this dark power myself."

Simon returned, his eyes widening as he scanned the scene, a whispered, "Fuck me," slipping between his lips before he took up position behind the settee. "Tell me what I can do," he offered.

"To start," Bexley hissed, "you can stay the fuck out of the way."

I threaded my fingers between hers. "Anaria, if you're listening, you have to try. Use your magic, love."

"I can't, Tav. You know I can't." I bowed beneath the force of my emotions when Anaria uttered her first words in hours and knew exactly what she was afraid of.

But turning into a monster was the least of my worries.

"Don't hold back on my account, love." I kissed her clammy cheek. "I'll gladly become a monster so long as you don't leave me in this hideous world alone. Use your magic to drive every drop of that fucker's tainted power out of you. Every last drop, do you understand?"

Her body twisted and thrashed. All I could do was try to keep her from falling onto the floor as Bexley sent wave after wave of green, healing magic over her body. "Come on, Anaria, fight. Fucking fight. You've never given up before; don't you dare give up now. Get every last bit of Corvus's poison out of you." Her face strained, teeth ground together.

And finally, a faint, black-tinted shadow curled between us, the reeking odor sending Simon stumbling back, Bexley retching on the floor. I covered my face in the crook of my elbow but kept one hand on Anaria as she drove the last of Corvus's foulness out.

The only problem…the shadow took on a life of its own.

Like the darkness was fucking…alive.

I'd never seen anything so horrifying as that creeping curl of black turning this way and that, searching for…I didn't know what. "Fuck, don't let it touch me," Bexley whined, down on all fours, getting ready to scuttle away.

"Keep healing her or I'll slice your head from your shoulders," I growled, keeping an eye on that black shadow while I searched blindly for my sword. "Don't you fucking stop until I tell you to."

Anaria went limp as the dark shadow coalesced into a single, recognizable form, reminding me of a Soul Reaper, and that's when I knew…that's exactly what this thing was. "Fucking hell, did that come out of her?" Simon hissed, eyes wide with fear as I finally yanked my sword free.

The Reaper hovered over Anaria, a hissing apparition I debated swinging my sword straight through to see what happened. "Can we destroy it?" I hissed.

"Not unless steel can kill shadow and mist." Bexley groaned.

"Only magic will destroy them." He tried to crawl away before I caught him by his hair and dragged him back, his fingers clawing grooves into the floor. "And not the sort I have. Let me go, please. I don't want to end up a vessel for one of those things."

"Shut the fuck up, Bexley," Simon and I hissed at the same time.

"Keep healing her," I ordered. "You don't stop until I tell you to."

Rage built and built, until I couldn't hold my fury in check. I would not allow Bexley to fail. I would not allow Anaria to die. She would walk out of here on her own two feet, alive and whole, toward the future she fucking deserved.

I would settle for nothing less.

My sword clattered to the floor when I spread my arms wide and grinned at the Reaper.

"You want to infect someone, you soul sucking bastard? I'm right fucking here. Come and get me."