The poor dead bastard being fed on by the wraiths had to have been a decoy. Smart of Xavier, but then he’d been around a long, long time.
Cari’s attention came up. Mason saw her gaze flick from the angel to him on the ground. Her eyes widened at the shock of seeing so much blood.
Still alive, sweetheart.
She didn’t have the presence of mind to note that he still breathed and was looking right at her.
Her expression shifted through hurt and heartbreak—Cari, see me—then blackened into raw, Otherworldly rage. A tsunami swell of Shadow rose within her. The earth shuddered with the impending rush. A choral keening filled the air—multilayered, eerie voices from Twilight shattering the night. The air smelled like tears and blood.
Cari had used a lot of Shadow during the plague investigation, but not nearly as much as this.
Didn’t matter that he’d lost a lot of blood fast.
It was time to get up.
What was left of Cari’s thready control broke.
Mason, glassy-eyed. Pallor gray. His throat slit, blood dripping into a macabre collar. Breathing his last.
The angel was going to die. By her hand. Now. He’d taken too much from her already. But no longer.
Angels are the scourge of the world.
Yes. She reached for the Martin dagger, buried in the heart of a dead man.
The Order needs breaking.
Yes. She lifted the blade and drops of warm blood skated onto her clenched hand.
There is only Shadow.
Yes! She held the knife up, ready for its true victim.
Magic burst from Cari in a cataclysm of night. Shadow roiled out from her body until the black, star-studded sky above became a cloak, the silver on the water glittered for her adornment. The consciousness inside her merged with her mind so that she and the fae were one in sight and power and purpose. The fit was perfect, as if Cari were a vessel born to hold such power. She was the ultimate Umbra. Dolan. Dark House. The world, hers to rule.
The angel raised golden weapons to combat her. He had age and glory on his side, but she was as old as the Earth.
“You killed my Mason.” Her voice echoed in many tones, all of them anguished.
“He was already dead,” the angel yelled back at her.
No. Not an hour ago Mason had moved inside her. She had been going to claim him for her House and offer him her hand. Mason Maker. And this island would be the place they came to escape the politics of the Council, the pressures of all her duties. This would’ve been their happy place. But now, the whole wide world would be.
“He was dead the moment you were born.”
“And yet you are the one who has taken lives.” House after House. Her father. “I’ve only saved them!”
She swiped at her bloody nose, felt a warm gush between her legs, tasted iron—the magic was challenging her flesh. And at the same time, she was changing to accommodate it. She could feel the golden turn of each cell and nerve, a gorgeous ache in her womb. She was becoming immortal and shedding weakness.
“I remember the last time Queen Mab gained a foothold in the mortal world and plunged humanity into darkness and despair.”
Cari stalked toward him. All the living things in her wake screamed, just as she was screaming inside. “I’ve done nothing to harm any human. They surround my property, pound on my car, shoot at my wards, yell foul things, and I do nothing.” While this angel-fiend in his pretty, glowing skin had bled her Mason. “I loved a human.” Now she’d kill for him.
The angel lifted his spear. “Do you even remember what you do with your human lovers?”
Eat them. Nothing felt so good as a bright soul within her. She’d always wanted one—so pretty, prettier than any jewel, any golden bauble—a soul. She’d seduced men and women alike to give up theirs. And for a little while she could have one burn inside her breast, too. It hurt a little, but then, pain and pleasure were sides of the same coin. Sometimes it was difficult to distinguish between the two.
Mason had belonged to her.
Movement. She looked over as Mason lurched to his feet. Mason. Alive? He stumbled once to the side, pale and sick to death.
Joy made her eyes wet.
But he was alive. Soaked in his own blood, but alive. And now that she was really looking at him, she could see the Shadow that had sealed his wound.
Clever Maker. He’d be at her side forever.
Mason drew out his gun, his eyes going cold black to match hers. He aimed with both hands at the angel—still steady, even after Xavier’s attack. He fired three shots in rapid succession.
Xavier didn’t even look over as he swatted the projectiles out of the air like summer bugs. “You have to die, Cari Dolan.” He surged forward, light bursting from his being, his spear aimed for her chest.
And her limitless Shadow countered in a rush of her own.
Lightning snapped between the two forces as each strained forward, the spear piercing the monstrous wind of Shadow. Cari bared her teeth in a primal snarl. She was going to tear the weapon from the angel’s arm. She’d take his arm, too. Rip him apart, like he’d tried to rip her life apart and had almost succeeded.
Her vision fell to utter blackness. A storm blew the grass and trees and water into nothingness. She stood on a ruined plain of scorched earth. The desolation was beautiful and serene.
This is mine. This is all mine. It has always been mine. And why shouldn’t it be?
“Cari!” a voice called.
Mason. Shining bright. Wading into the fray after her. He’d picked up a shovel, now smoking with magic. Mason was so beautiful, the hue of his intensity shifting to white. White hot. She wanted him inside her. Deep, deep inside her. Wanted that shattering feeling every moment of every day.
Xavier must have seen the rapture on her face. “You will snuff out that light. You won’t be able to help yourself. Give him up.”
“He’s mine.”
“Save his life. Give Mason the world.”
Mason’s head was down to angle into the storm. His shirt was blown back by the gale, the open sides flapping. His chest and belly were flexed with his effort. He’d grabbed the shaft of the shovel, lifted it, twisting his body for additional force.
And it occurred to her that Mason and Xavier were two of a kind. Her fae-turned mind couldn’t discern which of the advancing lightning souls belonged to the man she loved and which to the one obsessed with killing her. The glare of Shadow and Light washed out their features. Both strove with equal intensity.
Had to be the one with the spear. But he was pretty, too. And the earthy scent wafting from his body—it had a pull that she could only describe as intriguing.
Maybe she would take him, too. She tightened her grip on the Martin blade.
Part of her mind rebelled. No. She didn’t want either of them. She had a duty to her House. She was the Dolan. These creatures of Light were not her business.
Except she wanted Mason Stray.
She would have just that one.
No.
She didn’t trust how she would take him inside her or which ecstasy her body desired.
Her nerves recoiled, drawing her tight with fear. She was frightened of what she could do. Of losing enough of her mind that she wouldn’t know the difference.
“You can’t kill me,” she sneered in the face of a lesser adversary, but part of her meant it.
The world required magic to thrive, which was why Shadow was necessary. It was time for an age of beauty and innovation, when dreams could be rich with ideas. Heroes could rise, inspired by truth.