He spared a glance for Gadreel. The demon knelt, hands pressed to his bloodied chest, trying to regain his strength. If Niko were going to do this, this was the moment.
Across the ravine, Gadreel’s army still battled the Dimis and Shadows, along with the occasional intrepid villager. Where were the Druzhina? They must have traveled with the Kniaz, believing him to be the true nobleman and not Gadreel’s puppet. Why had they not come to Kalach’s defense?
The village’s warriors might have been able to hold their own, were it not for the avid tendrils of Darkness that ensnared their ankles and licked at their blessed blades, threatening them with the same fate that had befallen Assol. Inspired by Katerina, the firewitches had summoned a blaze that drove the shades back, but they were tiring; they couldn’t keep it up forever.
Commending his soul to the Light, Niko opened himself once more and beckoned the tendrils of Darkness to him. And Saints help him, they came—streaming above the river of Light, as if borne on an unholy wind. They came, and he held, and they sank into him as if coming home, plunging deep into the ever-widening vein of ore inside him. Their touch was frigid and blazing at once, like plunging his hands deep into a snowbank. It was agony, but still he didn’t let go, not until he’d rid Kalach of every reaching, curling shadow.
The demons roared with rage, but not Gadreel. The Dark Angel of War regarded Niko from his position on the grass, and, Saints damn him, he was—smiling.
“To me!” It was Baba Petrova, who had emerged from the chaos to stand amongst the warriors she commanded. “Windwitches of Kalach, now is your time!”
She raised her hands, directing her forces like the conductor of the symphony Niko had seen once in Rivki, when he and Katerina had brought the tithe. Exhausted though they must be, the Dimis fought to obey.
One by one, the demons rose from the ground. Their bodies hovered, drifting, before Katerina added her magic to the fray. She drew deep on their shared strength, reaching down the bond for her tie to his Shadow gifts to give her the edge she needed.
For an instant, Niko hesitated, afraid the Darkness within him would flow outward to her, corrupting her. He felt her bewilderment at his resistance flow down the bond as she tugged harder, and right or wrong, he’d never been able to deny her anything. He let her take what she needed, and together with the other Dimis, she blasted every demon standing in Kalach into the flowing river. They howled and shrieked as they sank, the Light incinerating them as Baba had intended.
Gadreel’s army burned, and Katerina turned her sights on their leader. She lifted her hands, and Niko didn’t need to hear her mind-voice to know her thoughts: Finally. Now, you will die.
But it was not to be. Gadreel staggered to his feet, sickly-sweet blood still dripping between the fingers pressed to his chest. Then, with one last covetous look at Katerina, the Dark Angel of War unfolded his wings, releasing them from their glamour, and took flight above the trees, silhouetted against the moon like a monstrous bird before he disappeared from sight.
Chapter Five
KATERINA
Gadreel soared above the woods, leaving only the promise of violence behind. Deep in the ravine the earthwitches had torn, the coursing river of Light bubbled. It was a beautiful thing, reflecting fragments of the moon’s face and the looming trees, as if it hadn’t just swallowed a demon army whole. But it was terrifying, too. She shouldn’t have been able to create such a thing, and yet here it was, sparkling under the eye of the false Bone Moon, rippling with its own currents and tides.
Next to her, Niko stirred. He’d leapt across the chasm to stand by her side as soon as Gadreel vanished, and Katerina had forced herself to look at him, afraid of what she might see. But the swirling shades were gone, as if they had never been there at all—as if he hadn’t summoned the Darkness with a crook of his finger, like a recalcitrant pet, and then let it bathe him in its power. As if he hadn’t vanquished it by becoming one with it, somehow.
What had he done? Where had the Darkness gone, when he’d absorbed it that way? Had it become part of him, somehow, feeding the corruption she’d felt in their bond ever since he appeared in the clearing by the ruined chapel? And if so, when she’d drawn on him for strength, had she used Darkness, in part, to blast those demons into the Light-river? Was that why he’d hesitated…because he feared it would spread through their bond, infecting her?
At the thought, Katerina shivered, remembering the hopelessness that had swept her in the Underworld—and the soulless, vengeful creature Elena had become, with only a tiny spark of Light still burning within her, where once there had been a flame. She herself would rather die than live that way, as a perversion of her Dimi birthright.
She would think this through later, debate its implications. For now, the important thing was that those insidious, vicious shades hadn’t stolen her Shadow’s life, as they had the lives of the children and Dimi Assol. He had survived their onslaught, and then he had vanquished them. She didn’t understand how or what it meant, but he had used his gifts for good.
He was watching her, his gray eyes guarded, and she did her best not to let her apprehension show on her face. They had saved Kalach; that was what mattered. There would be time enough for questions and explanations later. Now, they had to face the village…and from the thud of footsteps on the ground behind them, that time had come.
She turned, squaring her shoulders. And there they all were: the Elder Council forming an arrow, with Baba Petrova at its point. Behind them stood a phalanx of Dimis and Shadows. Instinctively, she counted the pairs; six had fallen. Fury and grief flooded her at their loss, though thank the Saints, Ana and Alexei still stood.
For a long moment, they just eyed each other—she and Niko, with their backs to the river of Light, and what remained of Kalach’s forces. Katerina straightened her spine, determined not to crumple under the cold weight of their collective gaze. There was no gratitude there, no sense that they had thwarted the village’s doom. Instead, each face—other than Ana’s and Alexei’s—bore nothing but terror and dread.
Baba spoke first, accusation lacing every syllable. “How is this possible? What have you done?”
Katerina wasn’t sure whether the question was directed at herself or Niko. Either way, she wasn’t going to burden her Shadow with replying, not when she could feel the shock and self-hatred baking off of him like residual heat from a rowan-fire. She stepped forward, in front of Niko, and lifted her chin.
“What I had to. You might thank us; without Niko, you might all be ash right now, or fodder for the Void.”
“Thank you?” Baba’s voice was heavy with scorn. “This is your fault, Katerina. You have brought the Darkness to our very doorstep by flaunting the prophecy, and then salted the wound by resurrecting the dead. All of this”—she gestured at the burning village, the square where the Kniaz’s body lay, and the rubble that surrounded them—“can be laid at your feet.”
“That’s not true!” Katerina protested. “The prophecy wasn’t about us at all. It was about Gadreel. He’s the one who freed the Darkness from its confines. Everything that’s happened since then is because of his choices, not ours. If you would only listen, you’d see?—”
“Silence.” Elder Mikhova’s voice split the air as she stepped forward, bridging the space between them. Two Shadow and Dimi pairings—Lara and Ilya, Svetlana and Luka—moved with the Elder, protecting her from them, Katerina realized, sickness rising in her stomach. Her fellow Dimis and Shadows thought she and Niko were a danger, something to be guarded against.
Niko had been Ilya and Luka’s alpha; they had answered to him, obeyed him. And now, they couldn’t even look him in the eye. How must that feel, to return to his village only to discover his pack answered to another? And worse, that the Shadows who had revered him viewed him now as a disgrace and a menace? Her heart broke for Niko, who had been the one to demand they return to Kalach. That they not abandon those they had sworn to protect. But what of abandoning him? Did the blood he had shed in Kalach’s name mean nothing?
Elder Mikhova’s forest-green robes brushed her feet as she came to a stop in front of them. She circled Niko, eyeing him with horror. “How? We weighted his eyes with metal coins, to pay his passage into the otherworld,” she said at last, retreating between the two pairs of Dimis and Shadows. “We filled his mouth with stones, so his spirit could not return, and dusted his coffin with ash. And yet here he stands. What Dark magic have you wrought, Dimi Ivanova?”
Katerina opened her mouth to reply, but for the first time, Niko spoke. “I mean none of you any harm. True, I am changed, but I am not the force you fear. I fight, still, for Kalach; surely you can see that. No matter what has befallen me, I fight on the side of the Light.”
