“Gran,” Mia says gently, “I know you care about Poppy, but surely—”
“No!” Evelyn’s voice cracks sharply. “You don’t know what this means. That sphere contains—” She stops abruptly, swaying slightly.
Several people move to steady her, but she waves them off, her green eyes bright with an almost feverish light. The usually composed matriarch looks close to breaking point, and I can sense Kara’s growing concern.
Before any of us can react, Evelyn straightens, power crackling around her like lightning. The sheer force of her magic makes my skin prickle – I’ve never felt anything quite like it from a witch, not even Kara at her strongest.
“Mother, don’t—” Lake reaches for her, but she’s already moving.
With shocking speed for someone who, moments ago, could barely stand, Evelyn throws up her hands. The gallery walls themselves seem to ripple as her power surges outward. Glass cases shatter, artwork goes flying, and a path clears before her as if carved by an invisible blade.
“Gran!” Kara lurches forward, but I catch her arm, steadying her weakened form. I can feel her fear for her grandmother mixing with awe at this display of raw power.
“Stay back,” Evelyn commands, her voice resonating with authority. Her hair whirls around her face as she strides forward, tracking Lucien’s path like a hunting hound on a scent. “I won’t let him keep her. Not again.”
Before anyone can stop her, she’s racing down the cleared path, moving with impossible speed. Morgan curses eloquently in what sounds like ancient Greek. Darick’s already moving to follow, and Soren’s right behind him.
“Well?” Selene snaps at me. “Are you coming, or are you going to stand there holding hands all night?”
I glance down at where I’m still gripping Kara’s arm. She pulls away, color rising in her cheeks. “Go,” she says. “I’ll catch up once—”
“Like hell you will,” I start, but she’s already stepping back, letting her sister support her.
“Marcus.” Darick’s voice carries that edge of command that reminds me why he led our clan for so long. “We need to move. Now.”
With a last look at Kara, I fall in with the pursuit group. Ahead of us, Evelyn’s power leaves a trail like the aurora borealis, lighting our way through the devastated gallery.
We burst into the gallery’s central atrium, a vast circular space ringed with shattered display cases. Lucien stands beneath the domed skylight, moonlight casting his shadow in multiple directions across the floor. The sphere pulses in his grip, its purple energy casting an eerie glow across his features.
“I wondered when you’d catch up,” he drawls, but his eyes widen slightly at the sight of me fully healed. I feel a surge of satisfaction at his surprise.
Before any of us can move, Evelyn pushes past, radiating power. I’ve seen many formidable witches in my centuries, but nothing like this. The very air seems to bend around her as she advances.
“Give her back,” Evelyn demands, her voice resonating with otherworldly force.
Lucien’s smirk falters. “Dame Blackwood, surely we can discuss—”
The blast of power from Evelyn’s outstretched hands cuts him off, slamming into an invisible barrier around him. The sphere flares brighter as he channels its energy into his defense.
I dart forward with vampire speed, trying to flank him while he’s focused on Evelyn. Soren mirrors my movement from the opposite side. But Lucien’s barrier expands, throwing us back.
Sorcery crackles through the atrium as Evelyn launches another assault. The force of it shatters every remaining display case. Lucien staggers but maintains his grip on the sphere, which now pulses erratically.
A crack appears in its surface.
“Stop!” Lucien shouts, real fear in his voice. “You’ll destroy it!”
“Better destroyed than in your hands,” Evelyn snarls, power gathering around her like a storm.
The crack in the sphere spreads, purple light spilling from the fissure. The energies in the room become erratic, whipping around us like a tempest. I can feel the building pressure of power, taste the electricity in the air.
Lucien’s eyes dart between us, calculating. The sphere in his hands continues to fracture, hairline cracks spreading across its surface like a spiderweb.
I watch in horror as Lucien suddenly shifts, moving with blinding speed, even by vampire standards. One moment, he’s cornered, the next he has Evelyn by the throat, her feet dangling above the marble floor. The sphere pulses brighter in his otherhand, its purple light casting grotesque shadows across his triumphant face.
“Enough games,” he snarls. His fingers tighten around Evelyn’s throat. Despite her previous display of power, she seems frail now, her burst of strength evidently depleted. Her days in captivity must have weakened her.
I lunge forward but slam into his magical barrier again. Beside me, Soren throws himself against it repeatedly, his face contorted with rage. Darick’s attempting to breach it from another angle, but nothing penetrates.
