Lachlan only held him tighter, and fatigue dragged him under. "I have everything to live for already."
32
Astorm had been brewing over Paris for the whole day, charging the air with tense energy. There was no rain, not yet anyway, but the sky rumbled and flashed its displeasure overhead.
It was the kind of weather for dark, destructive magic. Which meant it was the kind of weather that suited Valentine Greatdrakes down to his boots.
Valentine, cloaked in a glamor and blending seamlessly with a brick wall, stood in the alleyway across fromChrysopoeia. He checked his watch, folded his arms, and let the thunder rumble through his bones.
Everyone would be in place soon. Tonight, this nonsense with the Sanguis Vitae would end, and he would finally be able to go home.
About damn time too.
The day had been uneventful with everyone in waiting mode and going over and over their plan of attack, looking for loose ends. There wasn't any. This was what the three powerful branches of his family did best.
He toyed with the small sacred heart medal in his pocket. He knew that they would need some small protection to ward against blood magic as soon as Lachlan had pulled Apollo out of the mess he had gotten himself in.
Only Apollo could get the violent attention of a bunch of rich alchemists hell-bent on blood magic, he thought grimly. At least Lachlan was there to watch out for him now, to keep him grounded and hopefully out of trouble.
Valentine flicked the sacred heart medal between his fingers, rubbing the faint carvings on it like a worry stone.
Before their apartment on Rue Ronsard had been bombed, Valentine had crossed through the gardens and had gone to Sacre Coeur. He wasn't religious, but he still liked to go there and light a candle for his mother when he was in Paris. He wanted to remember the times she had taken him there as boy to light candles for her own lost family members.
They sold rosaries and saints trinkets, so Valentine had bought up several of the scared heart medals. He couldn't relate to sad-looking, virtuous saints, but a heart on fire? That he knew intimately. He always felt like his insides were burning hot with magic he could never let out.
Except tonight, he finally could, and his whole body was singing in anticipation.
Valentine's phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it free. The message was from Apollo.
Showtime.
"Finally," Valentine whispered. He rolled his neck, shook out his hands, and walked out from the alleyway.
Whispering under his breath, he loosened two of the sigils that kept his power locked down tight.
He breathed in ozone and breathed out magic. The pressure in his chest loosened, and he enjoyed the moment of having more of his power dancing in his veins. He could get lost in thesensation, but tonight, he got to let loose, and he needed the release so badly, his bones ached.
The facade of the building had changed since the gala. No red carpet to welcome people, no bright lights and flashing cameras. Two guards patrolled the front of the building. There was nothing magical about them. Valentine could taste magic on his tongue and see it in people's auras. They were just plain old humans.
"Can we help you?" a guard asked Valentine in French and then English.
"You have ten seconds to walk away and live," Valentine said.
The two guards stared at him and then at each other.
There must have been something about Valentine's expression that made them take him seriously. Or it might have been the scarlet red and silver lines of magic that were curling about his body.
"Merci, Monsieur," the guard replied, and they both hurried away. Smart men.
Valentine had struggled to decide just what to do with the building. He thought fire in revenge for what they had done to their apartment. Fire would be messy, and he would have to sit around to control it to make sure it didn't spread to the surrounding area.
Once again, it was Caelan who had provided the perfect solution. Valentine grinned. He was really starting to look forward to meeting Caelan, that was for sure. They wanted to know how he went with the spells tonight, and Valentine was debating whether to write them or go to Faerie to give the report himself.
Valentine centered his mind and started to move in graceful, precise steps like he was doing Tai Chi. Caelan told him movement would help the power flow better for him and offered some suggestions on poses. They had been right. His magicabsolutelysang. His arms rose and weaved slowly, and as he did, the fine scarlet and silver threads of power streaked out of him and around the building.
He raised his arms in front of him and unleashed the burning hot magic from his heart. It shot down the woven threads around the building and sliced through the bricks, concrete, and steel that attached it to the earth around it.
The building trembled, and alarms sounded. People were appearing at windows to look down on him and the magic that was binding tighter around them. He didn't see Dr. Lucien Delavie at any window, but it didn't matter. Layla had confirmed from her hack of the security cameras that the old bastard was in there. The other three leaders—Bellerose, Kovacs, and Mercurie—were all at the other site. He would get to them soon enough.
