Page 35 of Vampire Runner

The nickname slips out, and the moment it does, Ashe freezes. His eyes flick towards me, wide with a realization I miss. Ezra doesn’t hesitate and takes the opening to flip Ashe and slam a fist into the side of Ashe’s temple.

“Ashe!” I scream. Ezra wraps an arm around Ashe’s neck and starts to squeeze. I move forward, a spell already forming on my tongue. Using magic will alert Aeternaphiel if he hasn’t realized something was wrong by now. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.

Ashe bucks his hips, sending Ezra off of him and flying into a side table with a floral arrangement. The porcelain vase shatters and water splashes against the wall while flowers tumble around the demon vampire.

My mate is on his feet in an instant, gliding between me and the male we once considered a brother, a snarl on his face.

“No point in subtlety,” Ashe says, never taking his eyes off the slowly rising Ezra. The demon vampire flicks out his arms to shake off the water dripping down him. His eyes find me over Ashe’s shoulder. Instinctively, I fall back a step. There is no recognition in those eyes, no familiar intelligence.

Horror echoes through me. “What have they done to him?”

“Cassandra!” Ashe’s sharp tone breaks me from my frozen thoughts. “Get in the damn room. Reinforcements are coming.”

Goddess! I whirl towards the door, concentration furrowing my brows as I slap my hands against the warded door. The air stirs around me a moment before I hear Rhys’ familiar deep tenor cursing. I don’t let myself get distracted. If I stop to think about how Rhys must feel to see his brother in this condition, I’ll be the reason this mission fails.

I close my eyes, forcing everything around me to disappear until only the pulsating magical barrier is clear.

It’s rigid; the magic reminds me of the strict architecture and diagrams my family and old coven revolved around. The side of my lip curls up in a satisfied smirk and I curl my fingers as if I can grip the very wards themselves. If I’d wrestled my magic into the inflexible obedience like my family had wanted, I’d despair at the complexity before me.

According to their beliefs, I would need to locate the source of each ward spell and dismantle it piece by piece. It’d take hours—hours we don’t have.

Instead, I let my wild magic free. In my mind’s eye, my magic twists and writhes as it flows from my fingertips. My magic morphs between snakes and briar vines as it ignores the wards entirely. Instead, my magic wends between the wards, slipping between the infinitesimal spaces. In the eternity between heartbeats, my magic encases and penetrates the established wards.

It’s crass, uncontrolled, a maelstrom of chaos that electrifies me as I command the magic to destroy the wards. The fine hairs on my nape raise; my fingers vibrate with energy; the smell of ozone fills my nose.

I curl my fingers, imagining taking fistfuls of the latticework wards and my own strangling magic. I wrench my hands down and back, tearing the wards apart and down. The magic doesn’t stand a chance. Not against mine which is as wild and overwhelming as nature always intended. The dissipation of the wards crackle in my mind as well as in my ears.

I keep tearing at the magic, my own vines gripping the failing wards in a vice.

When the door is finally clear, the wards spark and flutter in my mind’s eye. I shudder, my head falling back, as I pull my magic back within my skin. It curls around my bones, settling down with its own sense of satisfaction.

The wall explodes next to the door, and I drop into a crouch, my arms thrown over my head.

Looking back over my shoulder, I struggle against the fear threatening to paralyze me. Rhys is struggling against a berserking Ezra; he’s holding back, but Ezra has no such restraint. My mate is facing off with five human guards, each of them with a gun in hand. Somewhere, Ashe has gotten his own gun, and there are a few bodies on the floor behind the standing guards.

Then Aeternaphiel appears at the end of the hall, fury twisting his angelic face into something monstrous.

“Stop them!” he bellows, and more guards charge towards Ashe.

As if reading my thoughts, Ashe and Rhys both snarl at me. I pull my magic back from where it’d drifted towards them before I realized it.

“We’ve got this,” Rhys grits out, dodging another blow from Ezra. “Get inside and kill the damn soul so we can get the fuck out of here.”

I choke on a sob as Ashe jerks awkwardly. Blood blooms on his left shoulder but my mate leaps forward and sinks his fangs into the guard who’d shot him. I throw myself against the door, shocked that it’s unlocked. Apparently, Aeternaphiel believed the wards and Ezra were security enough. Shoving the door open, I stumble into the room. A furious roar shakes the walls around me, and I slam the door closed before ordering my magic to wrap around the door and keep it sealed. Only Ashe or Rhys will be able to open it through the magic.

The part of me Eris clings to whispers caution. Aeternaphiel is powerful enough to tear through my wards like parchment.

Moreso, she urges me forward. The vessel is here. We both sense it. The room around me is overwhelming.

The room is a treasure trove, and my magic churns at the magical artifacts and riches scattered throughout the space. Ancient tomes, large jewels, and brilliant weapons are polished and arranged tastefully. I can’t help but pause, my fingers trailing reverently over a book older than my coven, older than the modern languages.

But Eris pushes me forward. The vessel is here.

At the back of the room, a dark cabinet is tucked into the corner. It’s simple, elegant lines and dark wood blending into the shadows. I’m drawn to it, my pulse racing, as I cross the room.

With sure hands, I open the double doors at chest height, not breathing. There, nestled in a bed of plush evergreen velvet, is a box no larger than a jewelry box. It’s gold, the ambient light reflecting off the latticed sides. On the top, two angels are carved on opposite sides, their wings outstretched towards one another.

I snort, the sound catching and scratching the back of my throat. Even Eris, whose presence is the strongest it’s been since we were attacked days ago, can’t help her humor.

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