Page 36 of Vampire Runner

Aeternaphiel, in all his hubris, has stored his soul in a damn replica of the Ark of the Covenant.

A boom against the warded door as me sobering. Eris pushes me, her presence frantic. This is what we’ve been searching for. This is where the archangel’s soul is kept, the angel who was her mentor and lover before using her and casting her out of the heavens.

My hands are steady as I remove the box. It’s heavy and I stagger forward as my breath is pulled from my chest. No, not my breath—my very essence, and Eris as well. This close to the soul, it’s as if we’ve been plunked down into a river only feet away from the edge of a massive waterfall.

Eris, unable to speak directly to me, is furious and is shoving and pushing at me. She doesn’t need to tell me to do something. My own need to survive has me moving.

I wrench the gold lid from the box, discarding it on the plush carpets without care. The pull is stronger now. There, inside the box, is a heart. Everything about it screams corruption, mottled with sickly purples and greens. It beats with stolen strength.

I hurry to the closest weapon, something I don’t even have a name for. It doesn’t matter though. It’s a blade and Eris assures me it will work. Box in one hand, I grip the ornate weapon, nearly dropping it in pain as it sears my palm.

The door shudders again, loud and brutal. My magic cries out as it’s stretched and torn. It won’t hold much longer.

I don’t hesitate, bringing the blade down and piercing the organ. At least I try to. It’s as if I’ve struck unforgiving steel. Light sears my eyes and I close them against the flash. I keep pushing, believing Eris’s fervent reassurances that it will give, so long as I don’t relent.

Pain replaces each part of my being even as I feel the soul consuming Eris and my essence.

Then, with an elastic sensation, the blade sinks into the flesh before being repelled and ripped from my hand. I fall to the floor, black spots across my vision.

Eris is gone.

Completely and utterly gone.

The door is still under assault. The blade I used is somewhere, fallen behind another treasure. I climb to my hands and knees, collecting the box and staring inside. I look for any sign that it worked, but the heart beats on and the infected appearance hasn’t changed.

My magic wails in warning, and I bolt upright, refusing to give into my spinning head. I retrieve the lid of the box, slamming it closed at the same moment the door bursts open.

I clutch the box to my chest, my heart leaping into my throat.

A furious archangel floods the room with golden light, his wrath-filled eyes focused on me.

He throws Ashe to the ground between us. He’s too still, blood splattered all over him, oozing onto the floor below him. I cry out, taking a step towards him.

A warning sound, one more ancient than this world, stops me in my tracks. I lift my eyes to the archangel.

In this moment, it doesn’t matter that I failed to destroy his soul. There’s no way I can defeat him on my own, even if he became mortal. I know this in my very being. This is a creature not from this realm, not from my world.

He pulls the light within him, tugging at the hem of his shirt and sleeves, straightening himself. He curls a lip in irritation at the sight of blood on one of his arms before appearing to dismiss it.

“You and your vampires have caused me no end of trouble,” he says. His tone is even, perhaps mildly irritated, as if we’re nothing more than an inconvenience. “This one,” he steps forward and kicks Ashe’s leg, pulling a groan from my mate, “was an idiot and stayed when the others ran. They even took my favorite play-toy with them.”

I lift my chin defiantly. “You are evil. Ezra is not a toy!”

Aeternaphiel cocks his head, his expression considering. He snorts. “Do you know I’d forgotten his name? Ambrose made such a mistake, letting a creature as unique as him out of his possession.”

“Cassandra.” Ashe’s voice is weak, and it takes every ounce of my fragile control to not go to my mate.

“Oh, I see,” Aeternaphiel says, looking down at Ashe. The vampire rolls to his front, pain contorting his face as he gets his hands and knees under him. “You two are mates. No wonder why he wouldn’t leave you.”

“Let him go,” I demand. I thrust the box out at him, meeting his blank gaze with my own fierce one. “This is what you wanted, right? Take it. We’ll leave.”

Aeternaphiel swipes the box from my hand, not bothering to inspect it. That only confirms to me that I failed to destroy the soul and turn him mortal. “Why on Earth would I allow you to leave after you’ve caused such a ruckus? Do you know how many minds I’ll have to wipe downstairs after this? Not that they have much in those minds, as it is, but it is so absolutely tedious.”

I ball my fists, desperately searching for anything I can use to keep us alive. Where are Malachi and Lan? Why haven’t the Nightshades rushed the estate?

As if following the directions of my thoughts, Aeternaphiel gives me a pitying look before setting the gold box on top of an antique table holding a stack of manuscripts. “Did you all really expect me to not recognize your mate’s true nature? That I wouldn’t recognize yours?” Aeternaphiel shakes his head, tsking. “The moment you entered my estate, I raised wards to keep any more of your kind out.”

“Then why did you wait so long?”

---