Page 69 of Sacrifice

Dread coursed through his veins. Something was terribly wrong. Beyond the closed office door, the hurried footsteps and shouts of his fellow police officers painted a backdrop of barely concealed panic. They were flocking to the windows, searching for the source of the blast. Every officer was thinking the same thing: a terrorist attack.But no ordinary bomb.

It couldn’t be a coincidence. The horizon caught Michael’s attention. A strange corona burned at the outer edges of the sun: purples and reds in the ethereal color palette that no human eye could see.

An electromagnetic storm.

It had to be linked.

What was Lucien playing at? Negotiations with the Dark Fae. Hiding the Girl. The collection of artefacts. Michaels’ brain whirred, examining the evidence until it suddenly hit him. A storm of electromagnetic energy would disrupt communications. It would disable electronic equipment.

On cue, the lights in his office winked out, and his computer powered down.

It could also produce a field that disrupted warding spells.

His church. He scoured the view for the spire he knew to be visible from his office window. A plume of smoke rose above it.

“Shit.” Michaels’ mouth went dry. The Crypt was under attack. Thousands of dybbuk were held behind the protection of his wards. An army of demons responsible for the scourge of humanity, reaped by himself and Lucien over millennia.

He had to get over there right now.

Jesper was going after Lucien at the Museum. Eve was in the cells. He had no choice but to entrust his mortal colleagues with her care.

He took the emergency stairs to the roof, unfurling his wings as he went.

Eve was plunged into darkness.She’d felt the air shift even inside her cell. Something major had happened.

A few heart-hammering moments passed and the emergency lighting flickered to life. She scrambled for the door and pressed her ear against it to listen for clues as to what was going on beyond.

Raised voices and a lot of quick, heavy footsteps. She could see them in her mind’s eye: keeping a lid on their adrenalin and channeling their professional selves. What had been a cool, air-conditioned office moments earlier now pulsed with a group heartbeat. Getting ready. Getting organized.

Eve’s head swam, and she realized her senses had returned. The veil Michaels had thrown over her was gone—erased by whatever the hell had just happened.

The air itself vibrated with energy. She staggered a little and tottered to the bench to sit down. The reality of the cell hit her. Thick walls and sturdy locks that wouldn’t be persuaded. Claustrophobia gripped her, and she slowed her breathing, willing herself to calm down.

Just a little of the quintessence might help. She knew she couldn’t afford to let it take her over. Now was not the time to lose control, but she needed to know what was going on.

She sucked in a deep breath and focused on her core, allowing the thinnest ribbon of energy to escape and take a tendril of her consciousness with it, out beneath the door and through the thin glass of the window. The air was full of static, the natural wavelengths and rhythms she experienced before, disrupting the world to make it hazy and out of focus. The frustration of it made her itch.

She seethed that Michaels had locked her in a cell and scratched at her arms, finding the raised welts of Lucien’s mark there.

When she’d first seen them, Eve had been pissed off that Lucien had dared to draw more runes on her uninvited and then failed to tell her about them. Now she was glad. Now she understood. Michaels didn’t play by the rules either. Lucien was matching him like for like. He was protecting her from him. Did Michaels really think that he could keep them apart forever?

She paced the short length of her cell like a caged bear. She needed to run. She needed space and air. She needed to feel the sun on her skin. The density of the walls closed in around her, suffocating, cold and dark.

Lucien will come for me.

Suddenly, she knew it. A feeling that was growing stronger with every heartbeat like a beacon. Lucien was coming. Now that the veil had been lifted, he would know where she was. She could sense it.

Eve held her forearm up to the light and traced the outline of his glyph on her skin. Her initial indignation at its presence now replaced with a cool calm. It was reassuring—not beautiful and glittering like the others but a ward of protection, surely? In the night before’s ritual, she had claimed him with her own mark. This rune was the promise of him claiming her, too.

It was warm to the touch.

Very close now.

A smile crept to Eve’s lips at the sound of the lock turning and when the door swung open, he was standing there, a wry smile on his face, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his suit trousers. The police officer beside him wore the blank expression of someone uncertain about their purpose there.

Lucien stretched out one hand to Eve, his face triumphant. “Ready to go?” he said.

Eve beamed and rushed to embrace him. He had come like she’d known he would. “Abso-fucking-lutely,” she said. “Get me out of here.”

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