Page 21 of Fated In Forever
9
MALACHI
According to my brother, I’d been born a fool, and here at the end, perhaps I’d become a fool again, because in these last hours, I’d started hoping for the impossible.
For Brendan’s ritual to actually work.
For this transformation to fade, for me to regain my mortal body.
And lacking that, to picture a life with Vicious, where our differences were eclipsed by the love we had for each other. But the moment Graves and Marten reappeared, seeing how eagerly she threw herself into their arms, seeing how well they all fit together, that hope withered away.
The transformation was accelerating.
I could feel darkness leaching into the marrow of my bones, a cold fire that spread through my veins like midnight shadows. Each heartbeat brought me closer to something that was no longer human, no longer myself. The ritual Brendan was about to perform might buy me time—precious hours, perhaps a day if I was lucky—but would, in the end, be nothing more than a finger plugged into a dam, holding back the inevitable flood.
And Evie deserved better.
She deserved a life with males who would cherish and love her.
We left the Shadowsend King—Rowan Forge, who was none too happy about having a monster in his castle—his queen and the other two Elders—who’d gotten their asses handed to them by Ravok and Romulus—in the entryway and followed Brendan up three flights of stairs and down a dizzying number of hallways.
The room was secure enough. A large, open chamber with practice dummies lined up against the far wall and row after row of weapons stacked together in deadly piles. Evangeline, Blake and Riordan lined one wall, while Brendan made a show of arranging everything on a table, Evie shooting me a lopsided smile as we mentally bantered over that night at Tyrell’s, then a few minutes later, Finn Forge and his brother Rowan straggled in, curious and apprehensive, followed by Nikolai and Aisling.
“Now that everyone is here, go stand over there, at the center of the circle, where the runes are etched into the floor.” Brendan looked harried, and while I should just call this whole thing off, part of me was just as curious to see what happened next. “Yes, that’s exactly the right place.”
I felt like a creature on display in a zoo, and the room stank of spilled blood and bleach, of too many hours spent scrubbing floors, and barely restrained violence.
Fucking perfect.
The irony was, nothing was going to fix me, but because I was mortal, and obviously wishing the impossible was one of nature’s cruel little jokes, I dutifully stood where Brendan pointed me, let him go through the motions of setting up an overly complicated ritual.
Even though I knew this would never work.
But there was the off chance itmight, and there was the rub.
Back in my day, we would have winged it and hoped for the best, but these days, it was all about presentation. The table was littered with bags of black salt and an ancient spell book, with chunks of obsidian carved with runes. My gaze kept drifting to Evangeline, to her faint, trembling smile that grew fainter by the moment until disappearing completely, to the steel in Riordan’s gaze that slowly turned to realization, to Blake’s quiet, seething temper that finally fizzled out after the two males shared a short mind-to-mind conversation.
About me, no doubt.
That’s right. Soon enough, I’ll be gone and you’ll have her all to yourselves again.That had to make them happy.
I’d have to time this perfectly. I couldn’t risk a repeat of what had happened in the underground chamber, couldn’t risk Evangeline harming herself further under the guise of saving me.
I could not be saved.
Iwouldnot be saved.
No, if Brendan managed to break our bond, if he managed to keep his word, I would transform completely into the demi-god known as Orcus and that transformation would have one of two outcomes.
The transformation might kill me—or I’d become strong enough to finally take on Ravok and win. Grind him into pulp beneath my magic and all my years of accumulated hate. But even if that future came to fruition, there was the matter of what happened next.
One way or another, I had to die.
My gaze fixed on Evangeline, pale and quiet, her eyes dark, watery smudges. I’d made her promise to kill me. Made her swear an oath, in the heat of a moment long past, something I bitterly regretted.
She had already endured enough. She would never bear that burden.
And Riordan Graves, noble to the core, would hesitate, but Marten…Marten was a born killer, a pragmatist who would do what needed doing.
