Sofi stumbled back to Katerina and Ana, her face white with worry and her hands shaking. “I have antivenin,” she signed, gesturing to her pack. “Why didn’t he let me help?”
They all knew the answer: unless a Shadow’s life was in mortal danger, there was no way he’d turn from a fight. Even as blood dripped from his injured leg, Damien had charged back into the fray. But Niko…it wasn’t his life that was in danger. It was his soul.
If he did what he intended—if he drank this Darkness down—there would be no coming back. His soul would be consumed, its Light extinguished. He would be no more than what he feared: an instrument of the Dark. A weapon to be destroyed, before it did its master’s bidding.
Katerina couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t lose Niko again, not like this.
There was no escape to the left. None to the right. None forward. And behind them was that flickering curtain, a gateway to…somewhere.
For all she knew, it would lead them to the Underworld. Straight back to Rivki, where the remaining Druzhina waited to capture and execute them. Into the heart of the Void.
But what choice did they have? Damien was wounded, and though Alexei battled on, ripping out the entrails of a demon who sought to get to Ana, he would tire soon. There were so many more of the Grigori, a battalion’s worth. The demons wouldn’t stop coming, and the clock was ticking, and at their backs lay the mystery the Magiya’s warriors had laid down their lives to protect. And here stood Niko, his jaw set and his gray eyes blazing with obsidian flames, wielding a power that would obliterate his soul to save their lives.
She couldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t.
Katerina glanced at her friends, their faces blurred by the tears that clouded her eyes, and jerked her head at the portal. And then she stepped forward, grabbed her Shadow by the arm, and tugged with all her strength.
The moment her fingers touched him, ice seeped into her veins, as if she’d plunged headlong into the Vohdanya. Shivering, she clung tightly, refusing to let go. He fought, baring his teeth and snapping, but then Alexei and Damien were there too, pressing their bodies against him, shoving him backward. Niko roared at them, tendrils of his shades separating from the rest and coiling toward his fellow Shadows, and for a terrible instant, Katerina feared the worst.
But the shades stopped, hanging a hair’s breadth from Alexei and Damien’s fur. Niko shot them an incensed, agonized look, then renewed his fight to get free.
In the middle of the room, the rest of his shades still battled the demons; some had shriveled to nothing, mere husks of their former selves, but others fought on, evading his grasp. Gadreel’s commands rose above the melee, urging his soldiers onward. His wings sprang from his back, onyx and massive, and he soared toward Katerina, his blue eyes lit from within by hell’s own fire. She choked, horrified, as his body swelled and twisted, contorting.
“Oh, gods,” Ana whispered. “Katerina?—”
But she never got to hear what Ana meant to say, because a thunderclap split the air. Midflight, crimson-tipped claws ripped their way out of Gadreel’s fingertips and a spiked rack of horns burst through the cage of his skull, like roots shoving through reluctant earth. Barb-coated scales coated his skin, black as pitch, and serrated ridges bracketed his spine. His lips drew back, revealing venom-coated fangs as long as Katerina’s forearm.
“Niko!” she shrieked, digging her nails into her Shadow’s arm. But he wouldn’t budge more than an inch, no matter how hard the five of them tried. It was as if the shades had given him unnatural strength.
Gadreel hovered above them, his wings fully extended, blocking out the light. Venom dripped from his fangs, sizzling as it made contact with Katerina’s gear.
“You have nowhere to run, Little Firebird.” The words were a hiss, as if a serpent had spoken aloud. They were in the room and in Katerina’s head; they were a portent and a promise. “Give yourself to me, and your friends will live.”
“He’s lying,” Sofi signed, her fingers trembling. “Don’t do it, Katerina, please.”
Once, Katerina had offered herself to the Dark Angel of War to save her Shadow. She would never do so again. “Sofi,” she said, low-voiced. “With me.”
Together, they summoned their witchwind. It unfurled from their fingertips in a gust so strong it blasted Gadreel back and away, and Damien howled in triumph. The Dark Angel of War soared through the air, his minions in his wake, and into the corridor beyond, where the books lay piled. The demons’ snarls and shrieks competed with the frenzied rustling and flapping of loose pages, like a flock of frantic birds scattering amidst a massacre.
Katerina didn’t care. If the alternative was death, then to the Saints with finding answers in books. They would defeat Gadreel and his minions, send them flying through the fortress and into Lake Svetloyar, and then the Mavky could have them.
For a moment, she allowed herself to hope.
But then, through the whirl of ancient paper and the twisting gloom of Niko’s shades came retribution. Gadreel dove for them, wings folded and gleaming fangs bared, and Niko stiffened in her grip. He spread his arms wide and tilted his head back, preparing to drink the Darkness down.
Oh, Saints, no.
“Don’t do this!” she pleaded, pulling as hard as she could on his outstretched arm. “Damien, Alexei, help me?—”
Together, they tugged and shoved, but her Shadow didn’t yield. And Saints, Gadreel was five inches away now—three—two?—
“My little Firebird. At last.” The demon’s claws scraped her arm, and Katerina screamed, terror searing her throat.
Staring into his blazing eyes from inches away was like gazing into the abyss. His slit pupils expanded, bleeding outward until his eyes became fathomless tunnels of solid black. Hunched shapes twisted in their depths; hellhounds howled in victory; a thousand broken, bent souls wept.
And then, the Dark Angel of War shuddered. Katerina tore her gaze away from the pits of his eyes to find Niko’s shades twining around his ankles, like the Lisovyki’s vines. They coiled upward, binding Gadreel’s legs, then wrapped around his scaled torso and pinned his wings. The demon ripped at them with his crimson-tipped claws, but he might as well have been grappling with smoke for all the good it did. He choked as the shades wound around his throat, tightening until his blackened, bifurcated tongue lolled from his mouth.
Niko could kill him. But the price wasn’t one Katerina was willing to pay. She would get them both out of here, if the effort tore her body apart.
