The ground creaked as the earthwitches among their ranks sent their power down into it, uprooting trees that fell across their path, forging a dam. Against it, the river of Light and shadow frothed and roiled with the force of Katerina’s misery, the fractured moon churning like pieces of a broken mirror in its depths. For an instant, in their jagged fragments, she could swear she saw strange reflections: the gleam of gold thread, the flash of a blue eye, the swirl of shadows. Then they were gone, and the river reflected only their surroundings once more—witchfire, cursed moon, the faces of those who had once called them friends.
From the other side of the barrier of fallen trees, Baba spoke again. “I give you one opportunity, Katerina Ivanova, to break your bond with the nezhit. Only come to us, and we will fight to cleanse you, to return the undead to his rightful grave. Take your place at our side once more, and we will bind you to Valentin, as we once planned. We will stand against the Darkness together, and fight for all that is good and true and right.”
Katerina stole a glance at Niko, his fingers still woven through hers. He was looking down at her, his eyes wide with pain and fear and—resignation. As if he believed this was best for her. As if he assumed she would say yes, and abandon him when he needed her most.
Well, to all the Saints and demons with that.
She laughed, a harsh sound, ripped from her chest. “My Shadow is good and true and right. I stand with him, and with the Light, for they are one and the same. If you ask me to break my bond with him, you might as well ask me to sever my soul from its moorings. If you cast him out, then you cast me out with him, for wherever he goes, there will I be also.”
Niko’s free hand forged a fist around his blade’s hilt, clenched so tightly the knuckles stood out, bone-white, against his skin. “Katya. You don’t need to do this.” The words emerged from between his teeth, so quietly they could have passed for the wind stirring the tangled, exposed roots or the lap of the Light-river against the trees that held it prisoner.
“Yes,” Katerina said, putting every inch of her conviction into her words. “I do. One for the fire, my Shadow. Two for the storm. I will always stand by you.”
At her words, the amulet around her neck throbbed, as if to the beat of Niko’s pulse. And did that not prove that his heart still beat? In the distance, a lone wolf bayed, a lonely cry and a summons, and beside her, Niko flinched. Did he hear his own fate in that sound?
She vowed it to not be so. He might have lost his pack, but as long as she lived, he would never be alone.
“So be it, then.” Baba’s cracked voice was sorrowful, but heavy with command, nonetheless. “Leave, then, Katerina Ivanova, and take your cursed nezhit with you. Leave, and call this village home no more.”
The edict pierced Katerina to the core, but she refused to let it show. Without another word, she turned and strode toward the woods, still gripping Niko’s hand tight in hers. The last thing she saw before the two of them disappeared between the trees was Ana’s gaze fixed on hers, bright with tears, and Alexei’s pinned to Niko, every muscle in the Shadow’s body drawn tight as he watched his former alpha walk away.
Chapter Six
NIKO
The former alpha Shadow of Kalach sat beneath the shelter of a rowan tree in the clearing where he and Katerina had sought shelter for the night, arms wrapped around his knees, and contemplated his ruination.
He didn’t know what hurt the most: seeing Kalach in shambles; the way all of the villagers had regarded him as if he were poison; the shame of banishment; or the loss of his pack. He should have realized that Dimi Petrova had elected a new alpha in his absence. Someone had to hold the pack, and it only made sense for it to be Alexei. Niko loved his fellow Shadow like a brother, and Alexei had served as a loyal second. He was the logical choice. But a black dog without his pack was the equivalent of a lone wolf. He drew power from his brothers-in-arms, as much as he did from his Dimi and the Light.
And now, apparently, from the Darkness.
What was he? What had happened tonight, when he drove Gadreel and his minions back? How had he absorbed the Darkness into himself, and where had it gone? Would it continue eating away at him, gnawing and gobbling until there was nothing left but a gibbering agent of the Dark? And worse, would the corruption seep along the bond he shared with Katerina, infecting her along with him?
He could feel it inside him, flickering alongside the spark that was his Light. It had used him tonight, even as he had used it. He had helped; he had driven the Darkness back and saved Kalach. But at what cost?
A full-body shudder racked him, and Katerina, who had been pacing the clearing, came to a halt in front of him. They hadn’t bothered to light rowan-fires when they’d chosen a place to camp for the night, the way they had on their way back from Rivki months ago. Then, keeping the demons away had mattered more than anything else. Now, the Darkness was here, with them, and there was no use pretending otherwise.
Besides, the last thing they needed was to call attention to themselves. Gadreel was still out there somewhere, hunting Katerina, and once word got out that the Kniaz was dead, Saints knew who else would be on their heels. Terrified people loved a scapegoat, someone to pin the blame on so they didn’t have to look too closely at their own doings—or so they could lay their heads on the pillow at night, believing themselves safe. When Baba and the Elders had refused to so much as hear Katerina out tonight, he’d known the village would turn against them.
His Dimi could have chosen safety. Refuge. And yet she’d chosen him, the way she had in the Underworld. She hadn’t even entertained the notion that he was less than what he had been…that he was evil, unclean. And Saints damn him, he’d been too weak to walk away, even if he knew staying could only break her heart.
Sitting cross-legged beneath the rowan, she gave him a strained smile. “What are you thinking?”
He cleared his throat once, twice. “You don’t want to know.”
His Dimi frowned. “Tell me you’re not sitting here, flagellating yourself for what happened tonight. Their ignorance isn’t your fault, Niko. They—they once treated me much the same.” She bit her lip, then came out with it. “They stoned me, when you died.”
His head jerked up, fury etched in every feature. “They what?”
“Ana saved me.” She managed a small smile. “But my point is, I didn’t deserve it, any more than you do now. I thought I did, but I was wrong. All of this is Gadreel’s doing, not yours or mine. And one day, we’ll make them see it. Until then, we just need to get to the Magiya and free you from this curse.”
Niko’s nails dug into his palms until they drew blood. Within him, the Darkness rose, hungry and eager, and with an effort, he fought it back. “If I’d known what they did to you,” he snarled, “I would not have spared so many of them tonight. Bastards and fools, the lot of them.”
Katerina snorted. “Maybe not all of them. I can think of a few worth keeping.”
He drew a deep breath, in an effort to steady himself, and changed the subject, lest he charge back into the village and make good on his word. “Gadreel called you Little Firebird.” That had haunted Niko since the Dark Angel of War uttered the words. It had been Katerina’s father’s nickname for her, his term of endearment, both for the blaze of her hair and of her magic. “How did he know?”
His Dimi’s gaze dropped to the ground. “I have no idea. Unless…maybe my mother’s death wasn’t random. Maybe he’d been stalking her, or spying on us somehow. Maybe he anticipated he’d need me some day, like a spare part.”
