Page 62 of Fate and Fury

She focused, summoning the breeze to lift the branch. It flew end over end up the steps, falling amongst the knives as the wind picked up speed once more.

Sammael’s hands clenched tight on hers, his eyes bright. “An effort worthy of a Dimi, my Vila,” he said.

An idea began to form in Elena’s mind, shimmering at the edges as it took shape, ripe with possibility. She dropped Sammael’s hands, stepping away. “What Gadreel did, taking Niko’s shape and then Alexei’s…you can do that too, yes?”

The brightness in his dark eyes dulled, replaced with caution. “Yes. Although I would not offend you by assuming the formsof those you care about. Gadreel does not consider such actions might be offensive, or cause pain. Truly, before I met you, it would not have occurred to me either. I assure you that I?—”

She waved a hand, dismissing his apologies. “Can you only assume human form, Sammael? Or could you—for instance—take the shape of a black dog?”

“You mean,” he said, cocking his head, “could I truly impersonate a Shadow?”

Wordless, Elena nodded. And just as silently, never taking his eyes from hers, Sammael transformed. One moment, he was the red-haired, smooth-shaven man she had come to know; the next, he stood on all fours, covered in lush black fur, his tail waving back and forth in greeting.

He padded toward her and leaned against her, making a low, comforting sound deep in his chest. She twined her fingers into his fur; it was warm, and alive as any Shadow’s.

An effort worthy of a Dimi, my Vila.

Elena began to smile.

32

GADREEL

Gadreel stood at the door to his throne room, staring at the newfound mound of wreckage. The Darkness gnawed at his belly, a starving beast that was never satisfied. It gathered in the corners and crawled up the walls, eating away at them, searching for a way out. Gadreel had tried his best to imprison it, but his wards wouldn’t hold for long. It had already escaped once, with dire consequences.

He had just finished repairing the roof and ceiling. His minions had cleared away the detritus of Drezna until all that remained was an ash stain on the floor. And now this.

He’d made the mistake of thinking that just because a shard of Darkness lived within him, he could control the force that now threatened to destroy everything he valued. To destroyhim.But the hint of Darkness that fed each demon was nothing compared to the virulent, hungering entity that was attempting to escape his throne room. Even now, it called to the tendril that lived within him, urging him to act. To set it free to roam and devour.

The foolish Vila had been wrong about so much, but she’d been right about one thing: Satvala had fallen, gobbled up by theDarkness. Thank the Devil it hadn’t been Kalach. Dimi Ivanova still lived. And Gadreel was desperate to get to her.

That’s what he’d been doing in the woods: prowling around Kalach, without the distraction of his incompetent legions, in hopes that the red-headed Dimi would venture out of the confines of her village. He hadn’t expected to find Sammael there, but it was hardly a surprise that his nemesis had gotten word of how the Dimi had decimated Gadreel’s troops. Perhaps this was where Sammael had gone, the night of his meeting with Gadreel. He had doubtless heard about the disastrous raid, gone to see for himself what was what…and now here he was, consorting with a Vila, dangerously close to the Dimi Gadreel needed for his own.

Luckily for Gadreel, Sammael seemed distracted. He hadn’t seen his fellow Watcher this besotted since the days of Lilith. But the Vila didn’t appear enamored of him, the way Gadreel had seen a bevy of women fall at Sammael’s feet over the centuries. She wanted something else from him—and, it seemed to Gadreel, he from her, as well.

It was a mystery, and Gadreel didn’t care for mysteries, unless he was the one engineering them.

Turning away from the wreckage of Satvala, Gadreel stalked moodily down the hall toward his library. The portraits on the wall chittered at him as he passed. Normally he found this entertaining; he’d spelled the souls of his more amusing victims into the paint’s pigment, and every time he walked past the portraits, it reminded him of his conquests. But now, their insults and complaints grated on his ears.

He couldn’t even sit in his damned throne room. The Darkness was holding him hostage in his own home.

Try as he might, he couldn’t understand what Sammael wanted from a Vila, much less one that belonged to Dimi Ivanova’s Shadow. She was beautiful, as were so many of herkind—but other women were beautiful. She was fragile, as had ever been Sammael’s weakness—but that was hardly a rarity. Dimi Ivanova’s strength was the rarity, the way she’d faced him without a hint of fear. She was a prize, an incomparable weapon. Let Sammael have the Vila, with her pleading blue eyes and the way she’d cringed back against the column of the ruined chapel. Gadreel would take Dimi Ivanova, that wondrous creature made of wind and witchfire, any day.

Besides, if Gadreel didn’t get his hands on Dimi Ivanova, he would have no need to worry about Sammael and the Vila. They would all vanish into the Void soon enough.

Gadreel came to the gilded door of his library and shoved it open. He slammed it behind him and stood, scanning the books on his shelves for the thousandth time, as if their pages would suddenly yield the answers he sought.

Was that what Sammael had been doing when Gadreel had spied on him—making notes on approaching Kalach and meeting with his Vila? Or had his archenemy already been colluding with her then? And what of that lost book, the ‘ancient tome’ Sammael had been blathering on about? Did it exist, or was it a mere invention, meant to distract Gadreel from Sammael’s true purpose?

The Vila had been useless, except for what she’d said about Dimi Ivanova and her Shadow being Reaped at the full Blood Moon, less than two weeks away. That meant the Dimi would leave the village. She would likely travel with an entourage, but she would be vulnerable then. If Gadreel could get to her—if he could take her—then there might still be enough time to vanquish the Darkness. It was possible, even if she were protected by rowan-fire on the way. As the wards between the worlds weakened, the smoke affected him less and less. Perhaps soon, it would not trouble him at all.

The Dimi would be reluctant to cooperate, true. But when Gadreel told her the truth about why he required her assistance, she would want to comply. She would do it of her own free will, or watch the rest of Iriska fall.

But what if she fought him off again? Much as he hated to admit it, he needed a backup strategy. Something based on stealth rather than brute force.

Gadreel flung himself into his favorite chair and snapped his fingers. An illusion of Dimi Ivanova sprang up in the middle of the rug, flowing red hair, leather gear, fierce expression, and all. She revolved slowly, taking in his library, then turned to face him again. Just like the last time they’d seen each other, she didn’t look impressed.

Even in his fantasies, the damnable woman refused to cooperate with him.

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