Chapter 25

25

GAbrIEL

I woke still smeared with gold, and every muscle ached delightfully. Evangeline was cradled in my arms, her head pillowed against my chest, her hair making an active effort to invade my face. It was probably for the best that I didn't need to breathe because she'd have smothered me otherwise.

It was still very early. The sun was barely up, the light outside watery and timid as it crept across the trees. I stroked Evangeline's hair, both because she liked it and in an attempt to contain it. She stirred a little, nuzzling into the touch.

"G'da g'dup?" she grumbled.

"No, you don't need to get up. Go back to sleep."

"'Kay," she muttered, then rubbed her fac against my chest like a cat getting comfortable.

I stroked her back as I stared up at the ceiling, a strange sense of surrealness having settled over me. Yesterday had become a frenzy as soon as the ritual was mentioned, and now I was free to bask in its aftereffects, however briefly. Evangeline and I were bonded, our souls intertwined. I held my hand up to the weak morning light and examined the smudged remnants of the runes on my arm. Those on my hand had been completely smeared away after our combined efforts last night, but down my forearm I could still make out a row of sigils that matched the ones inked onto Evangeline.

A strange spike of regret that the markings were temporary speared through me. It was unfair of me to wish another mark onto Evangeline. Her body already showed too many reminders of what she'd been through: the binding tattoo on her arm, the line of the scar that had vivisected it, the pale ridge of a scar where my father's curse knife had struck her in the chest—all reminders of the things people had done to her.

I wasn't entirely free of those reminders myself. The De Montclair clan tattoo across my back attested to that. Perhaps someday I would ask Evangeline about a magically neutral version of the marks of our bonding and get those inked onto my skin. Not a reminder of my love for her, because I didn't need reminding. A token of my devotion, and a reminder of the joy I could find when I gave myself the freedom to pursue it.

Evangeline was dreaming.

I frowned. How did I know she was dreaming? She was still breathing evenly, her expression unchanged, but I was absolutely certain of it. I cleared my mind, and that certainty grew. A quiet hum of confusion and amusement came from her, tinged with frustration. I wasn't intentionally reaching out to her mind, and the impression was more distant, but its presence undeniable. Her magic burned inside me, although the wild, roaring nature of it had banked down to embers.

Evangeline's dream started to shift. Her frustration increased, and the acrid tang of fear joined it. I moved her gently, rocking her until her eyes fluttered open. She was facing the window, the rising sun catching on her lashes, highlighting her freckles, making her look impossibly delicate. Unfortunately, that illuminating sunbeam was squarely in her eyes, so as soon as she opened them, she scrunched her whole face up in bleary anger. She looked like she was going to curse the sun out of existence for irritating her.

God, I loved this woman more than life itself.

"Good morning," I said.

"G'mrn'ng," she replied, then yawned. I held my hand up to keep the sun out of her eyes, and her face smoothed. "Oh, thanks."

"Don't mention it. How do you feel?"

"Happy 'n' well-fucked," Evangeline mumbled.

"I'm glad to hear that, but I meant in terms of your magic," I told her dryly.

She took a second to think about it, and I felt the fogginess of her just-woken mind. "Pretty great," she said finally. "The magic feels way better. It's still super powerful, but it isn't overwhelming anymore. I could still lose control of it, I think, but now it's like… Like before I was trying to juggle chainsaws, and now I'm just using a very sharp chef's knife. Or something? Mm. Too sleepy for good metaphors. Similes?"

"Similes," I confirmed. "And don't worry, that made sense."

"How 'bout you?" Evangeline asked. She stretched and scooted up the bed a little, nestling her head against my shoulder. It was very sweet, and also possibly a ploy to avoid the sunlight. I lowered my hand. The sunbeam hit her on the chest, glittering off the remains of the ceremonial paint.

"I feel strong," I said. "Even more powerful than when I drank from you. And I can feel you, as well, not just your magic."

"Your telepathy?" She perked up as she always did when there was something new to investigate.

"Yes. Don't worry. It's not like I can hear your thoughts all the time now, and I still won't delve in without permission. It's more like when someone you know very well is on the other side of the room, and you can tell what they're doing without looking."

"Heightened awareness," she muttered to herself. "Cool."

"I do also feel extremely happy and well-fucked," I added, and she grinned up at me.

"Goddamn right. Good work, team."

"Great work," I agreed, utterly deadpan. "Let's hit the showers."

The safe house was feeling generous. The shower in the bathroom could now fit both of us without barely any awkward elbowing. This was fortunate, because there was still enough magic in the pigment from the ritual that only the other person could clean it off. Luckily, the magic allowed the other person to use a washcloth, otherwise it would've taken even longer. As I watched the last of the shimmering pigment slip down Evangeline's pale, freckled skin, I was tempted, so very tempted, to trace its path with my tongue, but time was short. Yesterday's ceremony had given us a little room for luxury, but it was a new day. We couldn't give Morgana more time.

Downstairs, Vic and Xarek were preparing breakfast. The table had stretched again to accommodate all of us, and a carafe of hot synth blood was already on the table. I poured myself a mug as Vic pulled the last of the pancakes off the stove and added them to the pile on the large platter. The synth blood still didn't taste quite right, but it no longer turned my stomach, and with Evangeline's magic crackling through me, I didn't feel any hunger.

"Morning, lovebirds," Theo drawled.

I raised an eyebrow at them, looking pointedly at Isabella's arm slung around their waist. It was always a pleasure when a comeback didn't even require words. Theo scowled back, but a smile twisted at their lips. They were a prickly little bastard, and I was glad to see them with someone who suited so well.

"Food's up," Vic announced, bringing over the plate of pancakes while Xarek followed with fruit salad and sausages. This was way too much food, especially since five of us didn't eat the stuff.

"Where's Marcus?" Evangeline asked. "I can go grab him."

"No need!" Marcus said, climbing up the stairs from the workshop below. "I was just working on a little project—something to whet the appetite." He sounded cheerful, but I knew better than to take it at face value. I was far from an expert at reading Marcus, but I had centuries of experience reading the faces of powerful men who didn't want anyone to know what they were thinking. It was in the tension around his eyes, the twitchy way he wiped his hands on a shop rag. Marcus was worried.

We were all worried. We had done what preparation it was possible to do, and now we were in that restless in-between time, trying desperately not to think about the coming fight. I sipped at my synth blood slowly while the others ate.

At least the elephant in the room was heaped high with breakfast food. The witches and Xarek ate, and it turned out that what I had thought to be an excess of food was mostly polished off by one dragon shifter. When he caught the level of horrified fascination with which I watched him obliterate pancakes, he grinned at me.

"Dragons are big animals," he said. "Slow metabolisms, but stomachs the size of a small room. Gonna need all the fuel I can get."

"That makes sense," I said as he loaded his plate again. Next to him, Marcus was picking at his food, spending most of his time looking around the table.

Lissa was doing practically all the work to keep the conversation going, slipping into full hostess mode. She was nervous and had decided to make sure no one else in the room was more anxious than her. Vic, generally her quiet shadow, gripped her hand. Across the table, Theo and Isabella joined in the chatter, the former with more enthusiasm than the latter. I suspected Theo was doing it to make Lissa feel better.

As the conversation flowed, there was a second layer of communication going on in two-person bursts. Theo and Isabella were sitting close enough that they were pressed together from knee to shoulder. Vic and Lissa's knuckles were white where they held hands. Xarek leaned toward Marcus, who had his hand on the other's knee beneath the table. Evangeline and I were the only couple not constantly pursuing physical contact, but that was purely because we didn't have to touch to feel each other.

In the midst of all the reassuring touches, Damien looked more alone than ever, hunched over in his chair with his hands wrapped around a mug. He sat apart from the rest of us, expression blank. His eyes were directed at the mug of synth blood, but he was staring right through it.

Soon, the food was eaten, and the conversation stalled. Damien pushed his chair back, still not looking at any of us.

"We should go," he said. "The longer we wait, the more time she has to siphon power."

He wasn't wrong. With a wave of Marcus's hand, the table began to clear itself, and we filtered out to prepare. Theo disappeared into the room they were sharing with Isabella and returned with handfuls of mismatched bags.

"I grabbed kits last time I went into town," they said, handing a bag to each pair and one to Damien. "Had to guess the sizes on a couple things, but it's better than nothing."

"I did some enchanting to boost things up a little," Isabella added. "And I sorted out some supplies for everyone."

Evangeline and I unpacked the contents of our bag onto the bed. Two breastplate-style stab vests—streamlined black things enhanced with subtle spells. Two sharp, wooden daggers, two lighters, and aerosol cans for burning staked vampires. A slim, sharp sword for me. Two thigh holster-bags packed with rows of tiny plastic bottles, each containing a healing potion.

"The potions will only work on the non-vamps," Evangeline said as she strapped on her breastplate. "I made extras, though, just… just in case."

In case the witches were incapacitated. In case one of us needed to save the person we loved from the brink of death.

"Probably wise," I said, my throat tight.

There were charms, too, painted onto the gear or little tokens we tucked into our clothes. I didn't feel ready, but I felt more ready than I had when I'd faced my father.

Evangeline looked radiant, but she always did. There was no trace of worry on her pale face, just calm. She looked like an icon of some ancient battle goddess. If it weren't for the strength of our connection, I wouldn't have picked up on how stressed she actually was. She met my eyes, and her face softened as she gave me a tense smile.

"I'm gonna do some final checks with Isabella," she told me. "See you downstairs?"

"Of course." I caught her hand as she turned to leave and tugged her into a tight embrace. I needed to feel her against me, to feel her warmth and breathe in the scent of her hair. She wrapped her arms around me and tilted her face up to kiss me. There was no way to pour everything I felt for her into that kiss, but I didn't have to. In our joined minds, the love, adoration, and fear mingled smoothly.

I was halfway down the stairs when I heard the voices. Without vampiric hearing, I doubted I would've picked up on them. If I'd remembered to make noise when I walked, they probably would've heard me coming and gone quiet. But I was a vampire, and so, I heard exactly what Marcus and Xarek were saying.

They were on the second floor, over by the master bedroom, their heads bent together as they spoke.

"This one is fairly standard," Marcus said. "Simply activate it and it'll teleport you away." He pressed a pendant into Xarek's hand. It looked almost exactly like the one tucked inside my breastplate, close to my heart. A portal stone.

"Where will it send me?" Xarek asked, voice low.

Marcus smiled thinly. "Somewhere safe. Another of my bolt holes, far from here. Unfortunately, I haven't found a way to turn the artifact into something that can't be taken from you if you're captured."

"It's still amazing," Xarek said as he looped the pendant around his neck. "Thank you, Marcus."

Marcus tucked the pendant into Xarek's shirt and smoothed a hand over his chest. "There's something else," he said flatly. "If they… If you can't use the portal. It's far from an ideal solution, but…" He shook his head, tilting his face up to the ceiling and blowing out a breath.

"Tell me?" Xarek prompted gently.

"It's a powerful charm," Marcus said. "But the runes are quite simple. Easy to hide. If I draw it onto you, then all you'll have to do is say a word of your choice and the spell will activate."

"Marcus…"

"It's not pretty magic, Xarek, and I wouldn't offer this in any other circumstances, but… Morgana wants power. If she finds out there are more dragons nearby, she won't rest until she finds them, and we might not be around to stop her."

Xarek had gone motionless, one hand over Marcus's where it was still pressed to his chest. Marcus looked at him wearily—even from a distance I could see his exhaustion.

"If you activate the spell, it will burn through your memories and erase anything to do with your family," Marcus said. "No matter how deeply your mind is searched, there won't be any traces that could lead her to them."

There was a short, horrible moment of silence, and then Xarek pulled Marcus forward, cupping his face in both hands, resting his forehead on Marcus's.

"Thank you," he breathed.

Marcus slumped against him, grabbing onto Xarek's shoulders like the other man was the only thing holding him up. Xarek kissed him, and I was suddenly acutely aware that I was witnessing a private moment—something not meant for me. I crept back up the stairs and settled onto one of the seats on the third-floor landing until the others were ready. There was no harm in giving them some privacy.

Once everyone was suitably armored and equipped, we loaded into Marcus's atrocious vehicle, which was now some sort of distended minivan big enough to seat us all. Marcus and Xarek looked red-eyed and well-kissed, but they were hardly the only ones. I squeezed Evangeline's hand, and she rested her head against my shoulder.

We'd decided that, since the ley lines around Morgana's lair were no longer accessible, the simplest means of getting there would be to drive. Marcus was behind the wheel, with Xarek taking shotgun. Lissa and Vic sat in one row of seats, with Theo and Isabella behind them. Unfortunately, that left the back row to me, Evangeline, and Damien. Damien sat on Evangeline's other side, his face completely blank. Every now and then, he glanced at Evangeline, and his eyes warmed. I sent her a questioning thought and received a wave of reassurance in return. It wasn't anything to worry about.

I didn't know if I should tell her it wasn't the warmth I was worried about, but the blankness. I knew that expression. Usually it was seen on those who had either just left a horrible battle, or on those who were walking into one with no intention of returning.

The trees of the Eldoria forest blurred past us as the van sped forward. Inside, it was nearly silent, all of us lost in our thoughts and in each other. The battle was almost upon us, and it was getting closer with every passing second.

Soon, either Morgana would be destroyed, or we would be.