Page 4 of The Darkest Night

It was as if the world itself had been holding its breath, waiting to see which devil would dance under the light of the moon that night.

The scrying ritual Nikolai had performed would normally have required at least six sorcerers or witches. To do it on his own risked him not only losing his mind and his soul to Hell itself, but his flesh to demonic possession. He’d had little choice in the matter though.

He’d needed to find the body of the woman whose soul was about to awaken if he wanted not just to avenge his mother’s death and preserve the world of magic, but also to save the world itself.

The dark energy of the fallen angel who had gifted his race with Heavens’ powers had almost overwhelmed Nikolai and his familiar halfway through the ceremony. They’d clung to each other grimly and to the white light that was ever present within them, the brightness of the first witch’s energy a warm balm that had tempered the coldness of her demon lover’s magic.

Nikolai had woken up on the cool, damp forest floor at dawn, alone but for the crow who’d kept watch over him after he’d lost consciousness. The dullness of Alastair’s feathers and eyes had spoken of the toll the ritual had taken upon the creature. Though Nikolai had wanted them both to rest and recover their energies, there had been no time to waste, for the scrying ceremony had worked.

Nikolai had seen the Witch Queen’s soul awakening in the City of the Empire, AKA New York.

He’d used his contacts to find him a private plane to take him across the Atlantic and had landed at JFK Airport an hour ago. It hadn’t taken him long to sense the all-too-familiar magic of the Dark Council as he’d made his way into the city.

His father and brother already had their forces in place.

Nikolai wasn’t too worried about this yet. He suspected this was the case in every major city in the world right now. The seer whose vision had propelled his father to take action a couple of weeks ago had spoken of the Witch Queen’s revival in a crowded metropolis, under a waning gibbous moon.

Nikolai had chosen a high-rise in Midtown Manhattan to create his and Alastair’s next spell, this one also of a grade and complexity that should have necessitated several powerful magic users to put it in play. But it was yet another conjuration he and his familiar would have to do on their own.

What they were about to unleash on New York had one purpose and one purpose only. To hasten the awakening of the soul whose return his father and every Sorcerer King before him had long awaited. Once the spell took effect, it would give away his position to his father and brother’s army. Nikolai just hoped he had enough strength to fight them off and find the Witch Queen before they did.

Static charged the atmosphere. The light making up the runes grew dazzling. Nikolai took a ragged breath.

Here we go.

He sensed the presence of the Dark Council even as the magic storm exploded across New York, its brilliance causing him to squint. The clouds parted on a violent wave of energy, roiling masses twisting angrily as they were unceremoniously pushed aside in an expanding circle several miles wide. The waning moon pierced the inky firmament in the fading brightness, a brilliant globe surrounded by glittering stars.

Darkness fell over the city, lights blinking out in large swathes across the boroughs, starting with Manhattan.

Nikolai’s heart thundered against his ribs as he rose and turned to face the group of black-caped sorcerers and witches who’d appeared on the rooftop behind him, magic blazing from their hands and weapons, the eyes of their familiars full of loathing.

The watch on his right wrist transformed into a dark, double-ended spear as he directed what remained of his power into it. Alastair let loose a threatening squawk where he perched on his shoulder, wings fluttering agitatedly and body braced for battle.

Once again, Nikolai was thankful for the familiar his mother had gifted him when he was a child.

He clamped down on the dread swirling in the pit of his stomach and glared at the Dark Council members as they closed in on him.

“You’re too late. The Witch Queen will awaken before you can get to her!”

“We’ll see about that,” someone said coldly to his left.

Ice filled Nikolai’s veins.

Oscar Beneventi alighted soundlessly on the roof, his magic a black haze that cloaked his body and the wicked sword he wielded. His lynx, Drabek, coiled sinuously around his legs, the wild cat’s hateful eyes aglow with a dark light.

Shit! What the hell is he doing here?

Nikolai ignored the cold fingers dancing down his spine.

“This is a surprise,” he told his brother in a hard voice. “I thought you were in Budapest, licking our father’s boots.”

One of the sorcerers cursed and took a step forward, his weasel hissing at his feet. “How dare you insult our future king?!”

Oscar raised a hand. The sorcerer halted in his tracks and reluctantly returned to the offensive line at the silent command. Nikolai’s brother pushed back his hood, exposing his red hair and gray eyes.

“Father wants to have a word with you,Niko.”

Nikolai masked a shudder at the diminutive. He knew exactly what the current Sorcerer King intended to do to him if he got his hands on him. It didn’t matter that he was one of two surviving heirs to his father’s throne. He wouldn’t walk away with just broken bones and bruises this time. Not after stealing the most closely guarded and valuable artifact in his father’s personal vault.

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