Who would have imagined the vampire and the nephilim would ever be friends?
“You test my patience.” And before I can blink, the Messenger lunges without warning, without crying out, and I’m left to watch as he hurtles toward Syko. But Syko sees the assault coming and shoots backwards with a powerful flap of his wings just before both of them take to the skies.
I blink up. They’re specks in the sky, soaring and clashing against one another, and even from here, I feel the power of their battle raging.
My wings spread out. I know just how powerful the Messenger is and how little chance Syko has against him. His cries piercing the hellish sky push me into action. I glance at Malek, who paces impatiently back and forth.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize quickly just before I shoot into the skies after them.
The force of my rage claws its way out of me with one vicious sweep.
My father and I had an agreement. No one would touch what belongs to me, and already the Messenger is challenging me, and my father’s decree. He revels in the chaos and so he seeks to create it.
But he fucked with the wrong Prod.
And I aim to make him pay.
The higher I fly, the more fog surrounds me. It’s almost choking in its intensity, and up here, I see the demons of hell circling the battle, waiting to see who will come out the victor. So that they may rejoice and feast.
Syko dodges the Messenger, but he’s not fast enough.
I’m not fast enough to reach them before the Messenger uses his magic to catch Syko in his unrelenting grip. My mouth opens to shout a warning, but it’s too late.
My half-brother reaches for my best friend…
…and he rips his wings in half.
Five
Phoenix
I never realized just how many emotions are alive and well within me. Too many. There are too many feelings slamming through my chest, and I want to fall to my knees and vomit it all out just to catch my breath again.
But I can’t. I have to keep moving. I hesitated too long watching the damn nephilim fly off. I can’t pause to dwell on Syko’s lingering screams. Or the memory of Izara rushing to avenge whatever had happened to him.
Something did happen though. Something fucking bad. It was a haunting sound of agony that keeps ringing in my head.
She’ll take care of him. Saint will take care of him. He’ll be okay.
I hope.
Fuck!
Sykohadto go and play hero. Maybe he thought his presence would bring Izara back from whatever fucked-up black hole her mind was swallowed into. I crave her too; my body and heart fuckingacheto be near her. I would have let this whole fucking place burn to the ground once upon a time.
Emotions are fucked-up things. They make me want things I wouldn’t otherwise care about.
I swallow it all down and keep running after the swift movements of the professor up ahead. I almost lost him during the chaos and the night. The fae, they move like shadows, like the wind; if you aren’t paying attention you miss them. And here I am, stomping after him, jarring into demons here and there and slamming my fist into anyone who tries to slow me down.
At the entrance of the academy, where the brick sidewalk circles to make room for an angelic statue, the professor stops dead in his tracks. Fire and screams surround him, a blur of aggression and destruction slashing back and forth behind him. And yet, no one notices when the fae lifts his long fingers and blows a sweet, careful breath against the stone statue in front of him.
My steps slow, and I wait as he whispers words like a desperate prayer. The carved lines of the headmistress’s skirts sway like a breeze has caught the stone she’s built of. My gaze narrows as the skirts part down the middle. It opens.
Professor Thorne rushes forward at once, darting right into the entryway. And I’m right behind him, not hesitating to consider how completely bizarre it is to hide an opening beneath an honorable woman’s dress.
The entrance slides shut before I’m fully through, and I have to lunge into the darkness of the hidden passage. No light hints at the surrounding area. Dense shadows conceal me, and when I reach out on either side, the walls are close, barely leaving enough room for a single person to stand here. Dampness clings to the air, and I pause for a moment to try to hear the gentle steps of the fae somewhere up ahead.
Nothing. I hear absolutely nothing.
